My Testicular Cancer Story: How One Diagnosis Changed Everything
- Mar 31
- 6 min read
By Andy Hood
3 Key Takeaways
Testicular cancer often has no warning.Ā I couldn't see it, I couldn't feel it coming, and I'd asked for none of it. In 2021 it found me anyway. There was no bruise or broken arm to point at, which is exactly why checking yourself matters.
Checking takes less than a minute and it can save your life.Ā A simple monthly self-check is the single most powerful thing you can do. Here's how to check yourself, and scroll down for the step-by-step from Macmillan and the Robin Cancer Trust.
Life after cancer is a different kind of fight.Ā The scar and the missing testicle are the easy part. The real change is in the mind, the questions that never fully go away. But that change can be turned into purpose, and for me it became running, fundraising, and helping other men catch it early.
Table of Contents
Cancer Changed Everything
This is my testicular cancer story, and it changed everything. Cancer is a word no one expects to hear, and no one is ever ready for it. It lands cold and flat, with no feeling at all, and somehow that's what cuts the deepest. The moment it's said to you, the ground shifts beneath your feet. What does it even mean? I couldn't see it. I hadn't asked for it. So why had it chosen me?
As a kid, I came off a skateboard and broke my arm. The board went one way, I went the other, and that made sense to me. I could see the damage and I understood the pain. But testicular cancer doesn't work like that. There's no visible break, no obvious bruise, just something hidden, quietly changing the course of your whole life.
The Diagnosis I Never Saw Coming
I was diagnosed with testicular cancer in 2021, and I never saw it coming. I still can't pinpoint the moment it truly dawned on me that life was about to change. But let me be clear: it does change. Not just physically. Yes, I now have one less testicle, and yes, there's a scar I notice every time I get changed. But the real change is in my mind. It's the questions that never quite go away.
Are there cancer cells in me right now? How would I even know if it came back, because it could come back? That morning cough, does it mean something? The nagging stomach ache, the changed bowel habits, and the tiredness, the relentless, bone-deep tiredness?
I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime. Running feels harder, and work drains me in ways it never used to. Is this just getting older? I'm 53 now. Or is it something else? That uncertainty is exhausting.
Just One in Millions, But It Doesn't Feel That Way
Around 2,600 men in the UK are diagnosed with testicular cancer every year, roughly one man every four hours. Worldwide, it's about 190,000. Cancer in all its forms accounts for over 20 million diagnoses every year, expected to climb to 35 million within the next decade.
So in 2021, I was one in 20 million. A dot. A tiny, insignificant dot. But when it's you, it doesn't feel insignificant. Not even close.
When Did I Actually Accept It?
I still don't know when, or if, I truly accepted I had cancer.
The Moment Something Felt Wrong
Was it when I noticed my left testicle had shrunk and hardened? That was a moment I owe, bizarrely, to Jeremy Clarkson, which you can read about here.
The GP Visit
Or was it at the GP's office, standing there in my boxers, looking away while he examined me, then hearing him calmly say he'd refer me on a two-week pathway? My wife started placing bets on what it might be. Me? I turned to Google and convinced myself it could be anything else. I was wrong.
The Whirlwind: Scans, Surgery and Chemotherapy
What followed was a whirlwind of appointments, scans, surgery and chemotherapy, and somewhere in the middle of it all, some serious soul-searching. At one of my lowest points, I made a decision. I would rebuild, and not just recover but come back stronger. I would take this experience and turn it into something positive, for me and for others.
Running Became My Way Back
Before cancer, I could comfortably run a marathon. After cancer, I came back to running, but differently. Further. Harder. Ultras, endurance events, and challenges that pushed me physically and mentally. Some were self-designed, some deliberately attention-grabbing, but all of them had a purpose: to raise awareness of testicular cancer, and to raise funds.
Even then, I still hadn't fully accepted it. That question kept nagging away. Why me, and could it happen again? So I kept busy, because I had to. Running helped and training helped, but people helped most of all.
Unexpected Doors
Cancer, strangely, opened doors I never expected. After running to Diddly Squat Farm to thank Jeremy Clarkson for that life-saving nudge, a relationship began, one that continues today, with more runs planned. Then there's Krispy Kreme: in 2024 and 2025 I ran to 20 of their shops and spoke at their national conference, and in 2026 I'll be doing it again with another solo ultra across London. Tough work, but delicious.
New friendships formed too, with incredible charities doing real, meaningful work in this space: The Robin Cancer Trust, Cahonas Scotland, and ChemoHero. In 2026, I'll be running an ultra alongside Toby from The Robin Cancer Trust, another powerful way to keep raising awareness.
Turning Pain Into Purpose
Cancer gave me something I never expected: purpose. By the end of 2027, if everything goes to plan, I hope to hold two world records. And along the way, I launched my own brand: Check Ya Balls. It's a cheeky name with a serious message, reminding men to check themselves. Testicular cancer underwear that nudges you to do the one thing that could save your life. Because sometimes, it really is that simple.
Soā¦ Have I Accepted It?
So yes, this testicular cancer story has completely changed my life. I wouldn't have achieved what I have, wouldn't have met the people I've met, and wouldn't have had the conversations I've had. BBC News, podcasts, articles, interviewsā¦ none of it would have happened.
And yet, have I accepted that I had cancer? Honestly? I'm not sure I have. Because this story isn't just about diagnosis. It's about everything that comes after.
How to Check for Testicular Cancer
If my story does one thing, let it be this: check yourself.Ā It takes less than a minute and it could save your life. Testicular cancer is one of the most treatable cancers when it's caught early.
The best time to check is during or just after a warm bath or shower, when the skin around the testicles is relaxed. Check one testicle at a time using both hands, and gently roll each one between your thumb and fingers, firmly but without squeezing hard. The aim is to get to know what's normal for you. A healthy testicle should feel smooth and firm, but not hard, and it's completely normal for one to be slightly larger or to hang lower than the other.
As you check, you'll find the epididymis, the soft, coiled tube at the back and top of each testicle. It can feel a little bumpy or tender, and that's normal, so don't mistake it for a lump. What you're really looking and feeling for is any change: a lump, hardness, swelling, pain, heaviness, or anything that simply isn't normal for you.
If you notice any of these changes, see your GP as soon as possible. Most lumps turn out not to be cancer, but get checked anyway, and don't let embarrassment stop you, because your GP has seen it all before. Make it a monthly habit by setting a phone reminder or tying it to something you already do once a month. The more often you check, the quicker you'll spot anything new.
Trusted guides on how to check
Macmillan Cancer Support: How to check for testicular cancer
The Robin Cancer Trust: Testicular cancer: signs, symptoms and how to check
If in doubt, get it checked out. Early diagnosis is everything.
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