![]() ![]() My testicle was gone but my mortality was called into question and there was no solace, no counselling, no direction of how to handle this serious event in my life and I really struggled with my mental health in the weeks and months after.” Oncologists have a very tough job diagnosing, giving bad news and having patients die and while I felt my oncologist was great, it was all quite sterile and full of medical jargon. “However, although the medical treatment was a success, the mental strain of it all really hit me hard. I’m always super anxious waiting to see the oncologist, catastrophising in my head that I’m going to get bad news but so far so good. ![]() There is also an elevated risk that it will come back in the other testicle. I feel as though cancer has a gun to my head it can return at anytime, anywhere in my body and can kill. I’m always terrified going through this process, which doesn’t get easier. Since then I’ve been getting a full NCT every six months: CT scan, blood work and a chat with the oncologist. Unfortunately being freelance I had to go back to work four days post-surgery but apart from a limp and some discomfort I was alive. “My wife, kids and family were all brilliant and helped me through it. There was no spread so no chemo, and that was a huge relief. “The surgeon and staff were all fantastic and I was released sore but alive – and quite frankly this was the best possible outcome from this serious situation. “The operation was a great success and scans revealed there was no spread to lymph nodes, so surgery was the only treatment I received,” he says. The 45-year-old was discharged after five days with an appointment to return for the orchiectomy (testicle removal) the following week. Basically, the testicle was like an apple with a rotten core and surgery was a given.” Orchiectomy I was told that I had Stage 1A and the tumour may have grown through the inner layer of tissue surrounding the testicle, but not the outer layer, so it had not spread to blood or lymph vessels. I had cancer and that was all there was to it. I didn’t drink, looked after myself, ran 10km races for the craic, ate well and all the rest – but none of it mattered. “My mind was blown, and I couldn’t quite believe that I had cancer. My wife was with me on the ward when the doctor came in to deliver the news and I was quite upbeat initially, but when I heard him say the C word, I honestly lost the power of speech and comprehension. “The doctor had already told me that it was most likely dead due to torsion, and I was kept in for five days, but it wasn’t until the fourth day that I got the news that I had testicular cancer. “I went off to A&E and to be honest, was quite shocked to be in hospital but was also very worried and upset about my poor testicle,” he says. ![]() It wasn’t until the fourth day that I got the news that I had testicular cancer Stu, who lives in Wicklow with his wife and two children, knew he had a problem, but it didn’t cross his mind that he might have had cancer – so when this was diagnosed, he was dumbfounded. So I called the doctor straight away and got an appointment for later that afternoon – and after being examined I was sent straight to St Vincent’s hospital in Dublin as the doctor also believed it was a torsion.” “But I had read of anecdotes of guys leaving it because of worry, shame or fear and I kind of knew the testicle was dead just by feel and knowing my body well by being vigilant about checking my bits and pieces. I knew straight away something was very wrong but thought perhaps, because of the sensation, it may have been a torsion, a twist in the spermatic cord. It was very solid and smooth, like a pebble with absolutely no give when pressure was applied. But I have always been vigilant and check myself regularly, so that weekend, I did a bit of a check in the shower and the left testicle just didn’t feel right. “I spent a month working 14-15 hour days and was sitting on a crap chair pretty much all day, so when I noticed a numb, uncomfortable feeling in my groin, I put it down to sitting on the bad chair. “In January, 2019, I was operating robotic cameras for a TV show called the Rotunda,” he says. So when, two years ago, he experienced a strange sensation in his groin, he did a self-examination and realising something wasn’t right, immediately sought advice from his GP. Stu Teehan has always been aware of the need to be vigilant about cancer, particularly as in his various roles as a director, cameraman and photographer, he was involved in several projects with the HSE focusing on cervical cancer and the HPV vaccine roll out. ![]()
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