I want to write this post for one reason above all others — because if someone reads it and decides to push a bit harder for answers when something doesn't feel right, then it will have been worth every word.
This is the story of how my cancer started. Or at least, how it started making itself known. And how, for a long time, I — and the medical system — missed it entirely.
It wasn't the first time
Before the kidney cancer, there was the skin cancer. Around mid to late 2020 I noticed a skin tag under my eye had got bigger. I scratched it off — as you do — and a boil appeared in its place. I had it removed fairly quickly and the results came back as a mix of basal cell carcinoma and squamous cell carcinoma. Two types of skin cancer, caught and dealt with. Job done. All clear.
I didn't think much more about it at the time. It had been removed, it was gone, life carried on. But looking back now, I think the two cancers — the skin and the kidney — were probably developing around the same time. The body doesn't compartmentalise the way we'd like it to. I'll come back to why I think that in a future post.
The symptom I put down to exercise
A few months after the skin cancer was dealt with, maybe into 2021, I started noticing a pain in my testicle. I was exercising a lot at the time — running, physical work, a very active lifestyle. So I did what most men do. I put it down to the obvious explanation and got on with things.
I switched to more supportive underwear. More flexible trousers. And to be fair — it helped. The discomfort eased off enough that I could manage it day to day without it being a constant problem. So I managed it. For years.
In the back of my mind I knew I should get it checked. But it was my testicle. And men don't go to the doctor about their testicles. We just don't. And that embarrassment very nearly cost me everything.
Years of coping
I carried on like this for a long time. Not ignoring it exactly — more managing it, rationalising it, finding reasons why it was probably nothing serious. The job was physical. The running was intense. These things cause discomfort. That's just life.
But by around 2024 something had changed. The testicle didn't feel quite the same as the other one anymore. Nothing dramatic — it wasn't hard, there was no obvious lump. But it sat a little prouder from my body than it used to. Different enough that I finally couldn't talk myself out of going to the doctor.
The timeline
The ultrasound that missed it
The doctor examined me and wasn't overly concerned — but referred me for an ultrasound to be safe. The ultrasound found a varicocele — a group of varicose veins in the testicle, which is a perfectly normal and common thing that can cause discomfort, particularly with heavy exercise. That explained the symptoms. Nothing to be done about it. Just one of those things.
While I was there the nurse also scanned my kidneys, as a routine part of the process. And the results came back clear. Nothing of concern. I went home relieved, finally able to put years of low level worry to rest. It was a varicocele. That was all.
The tumour was already there. It had been growing in my kidney for who knows how long. And the ultrasound missed it.
I'm not writing this to blame anyone. Ultrasounds have limitations. Kidney tumours can be difficult to detect depending on their position and the quality of the image. I don't carry anger about this — what would be the point. But I do think it's important that people know scans are not infallible. A clear result is not always a definitive result.
Then August arrived
A few months after the all clear I was at home, sorting dinner, and the most severe pain I had ever felt hit me in the back. Within minutes I could barely breathe. The haemorrhage had happened. The tumour — the one the ultrasound hadn't found — had bled.
Everything that followed from that moment is documented in My Story. But it started here. With years of a symptom I managed instead of investigated. With an embarrassment that kept me from the doctor longer than I should have waited. And with a scan that gave me an answer that turned out not to be the whole picture.
There's one final detail worth noting — and I think it's significant. After the haemorrhage happened and my kidney was eventually removed, the testicular discomfort I had been living with since 2021 completely disappeared. Gone. After three years of managing it daily, it just wasn't there anymore.
My belief is that the tumour growing in my kidney was pressing on something — a tube, a nerve, a vessel — that was causing the referred pain in my testicle all along. Once the kidney was gone, so was the discomfort. They were linked. They had to be. Which means the symptom I first noticed in 2021 was almost certainly my body trying to tell me something was wrong with my kidney — not with my testicle at all.
Three years of a symptom that turned out to be my kidney trying to get my attention. I just wasn't listening to the right part of my body.
If you take one thing from this post, let it be this: if something doesn't feel right in your body, and it doesn't go away, push for answers. Don't rationalise it. Don't wait because you're embarrassed. Don't accept a clear result as the final word if your instinct is telling you otherwise. You know your body better than anyone. Trust it.
— Nick