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What’s It Like To Be is a regular listener.co.nz column where New Zealanders from all walks of life share first-hand experiences of living with and overcoming health challenges. Here, brothers Harrison and Fletcher Stott tell Paulette Crowley about being diagnosed with and treated for testicular cancer.
Every year, around 170 New Zealand men are diagnosed with testicular cancer and for eight of them, the disease is fatal. It’s common in teen and young men aged 15-44 but is highly treatable, especially if it is detected early.
Harrison Stott
It was 2019 and I was running a marathon in Oslo, of all places. While I was training, I kept getting chafing on my balls. Being a classic male, I didn’t do anything about it until the actual day. I was like, ‘God, how am I going to do this? I’m going to be running for three hours.’
I went back to London, where I was living at the time, and a couple of weeks later I thought I should see a doctor. She told me I had a cyst on my left testicle, which is apparently really normal. She said, “I can tell you’re a bit concerned about it, so we’ll get an ultrasound done”.
I knew things were bad when I heard how many beeps were going on during the ultrasound. The next day, they called me in and said they’d found four tumours inside my testicle, unrelated to the cyst, and that they needed to take some samples. That meant they had to remove the testicle. A few weeks later, I had the diagnosis – two of the tumours were cancerous. When I heard the word cancer, I thought, “That’s for old people, not for young, fast, exciting people living in London.” So it was definitely quite a shock. I was only 28.
After my testicle was removed, they had to do a CAT scan to make sure the cancer hadn’t spread. I had to wait about eight weeks before I knew the result; that period gave me anxiety like I’ve never had before.
Eventually, on Christmas Eve, they told me, “You’re fine”. I didn’t need chemotherapy but needed to go through a monitoring programme, which was essentially monthly blood tests, and a chest x-ray and CAT scan every few months for a period of two years. After that they give you yearly tests for another few years.
I was discharged from monitoring in November last year. It was an amazing relief. I burst into tears; I was in a bit of a state.
I’m 34 now and run a business in Auckland. I’ve got two kids and have just gotten on with my life. I’m so lucky to have come through the way I did.
They say that testicular cancer is a young man’s disease – it mainly affects men between 15 and 44 years. I’ve got two brothers and obviously told them about it. A couple of years later, my younger brother, Fletcher, was also diagnosed with testicular cancer. Apparently, both of us having testicular cancer was nothing to do with our genes, it was just shit luck for both of us. But it’s kind of funny because between the two of us, we’ve still got a pair of balls.
Fletcher Stott
After my brother Harrison’s testicular cancer diagnosis, it was always in the back of my brain to keep an eye out for symptoms. We’d supported him as a family and after a couple of years, we knew that the likelihood of his cancer coming back was a lot lower than before. Life had moved on from the scary part of his journey – but it had always stuck with me.
In 2023, I was holidaying in Indonesia and noticed my left testicle was a bit sore. Typically, testicular cancer presents as a painless lump. I thought because it was painful, I should be fine. But I also knew I had to be on top of it, because of what had happened with my brother.
I got an appointment that night at a local clinic. That whole day, I was sitting there thinking, “I reckon I’ve got cancer.” It wasn’t like a panic – I was very calm – it was more like a sadness, almost because I knew what was coming. Very strange feeling. Everyone else said, “It’s just a f---ing cyst, just chill out.” But I just knew.
The ultrasound they gave me revealed I had a tumour in my left testicle. Within five minutes, they had me in front of a urologist, a surgeon, who wanted to know if I wanted my testicle taken off that day. It was crazy.
My family and I quickly started figuring out whether I should go back to New Zealand for treatment. It turned out it made sense for me to go to my dad on the Gold Coast, Australia, and have the treatment there. I knew that I was going to lose a testicle, no matter what, because if you do have cancer, it’s more likely to spread from taking a biopsy, so they remove the entire testicle. I’d seen my brother go through that, so I knew what to expect. He’s since had children, you know, so I really wasn’t that concerned about that side of it. I accepted it pretty quickly.
The doctors removed the testicle and told me that they’d caught it quite early and they didn’t think I’d have to do chemotherapy, based on the size of the tumour and the blood test results. It didn’t feel very cancer-y, at that point.
But then we got the biopsy results and things started happening. I had a slightly different form of testicular cancer than Harrison had, and it was more aggressive. The doctors said I should have chemotherapy, which is really effective for the type of cancer I had.
The doctors I dealt with were incredibly empathetic and caring. They said, “We’re not here to try and prolong your life, this treatment will cure you.” That’s when it all started to feel really cancer-y. I was like, “Oh my God, I’m gonna feel like s—t.” And that was really, really daunting to me.
I’m not going to sugar coat it, the treatment was pretty brutal. I hated it. But in saying that, chemo gave me a very different perspective on life. In my chemotherapy ward, there were more than 200 people and every single one of them would have wanted to have traded places with me. Why? My type of cancer was treatable.
You see people there fighting for their lives or just prolonging their lives so they can get another year with their grandkids. People go in there really sick. But I wasn’t sick from the cancer – I came into treatment healthy. I was lucky enough to know that by the end of the year I was going to be having a summer of being with friends and celebrating survival. It was a really humbling experience.
Having cancer changed everything for me and I now see having cancer in my 20s as a blessing and one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m 29 now and in October, it will be the two-year mark post chemo. I’ll have some more tests and if they come back clear, the chances of the cancer coming back will be really low. Here’s hoping.
Jolly Good Chaps is hosting its annual charity ride – the Cold Kahuna – on Saturday, August 9 and Sunday, 10 August to raise money to support Testicular Cancer New Zealand. Riders will brave sub-zero temps on small bikes (125cc or less) as they travel from Auckland, Waikato, Tauranga, Wellington and Hawke’s Bay to converge on Ohakune for a weekend of camaraderie and scooter-filled shenanigans. Find out more about the ride here.
