If help is offered, grab it tightly...

Mental health, such a rare topic of discussion amongst us 'chaps'

Mental health, a rarely discussed subject amongst the male contingent and almost impossible to get anything other than an ‘I’m fine’ (followed by the customary gentle ‘scoff’ sound) when asked how we are. Allow me to have this one, I am after all British😉.

But when getting news of cancer in the prostate (this obviously is not exclusive), in most cases it can have a slight impact on one’s mental health, and possibly without really knowing or acknowledging it. So to make sure that the subject gets discussed without judgement, shame or embarrassment…here it goes from my perspective.

Early 2021, I was a happy go lucky chap that pretty much had everything a man would want, a good job, food on the table and a family & friend network that cared and loved me…then this happened:

Dr Akhtar: “Mr Stevenson, following the biopsy and scans that we have been doing…blah blah blah blah, you have Stage 3 prostate cancer”

My Brain: “ Nope, not registering that thank you Dr. Not today, not tomorrow, not fucking ever. I am 46 years old and this is an older mans issue. You can keep whatever Stage 3 prostate cancer is and I am out of here”

That is when my mood pretty much went from carefree and joyous to one where the world just fell apart around me:

My Brain: “Fuck, I am going to die. I am a dead man walking, the kids are still too young to lose their Dad, I haven’t seen the world yet, this is not fair, why me, I am too young…(you get the picture)”

I was in complete shock at this point, and I cried. I cried like never before and my brain was racing around all the bad things that anyone could think off at the time that they have just been told they had cancer inside of them. The smallest of things were suddenly a concern for me…”How would I tell the kids, Louise, my Mum & Dad”, “What about work, they need me, I need them to pay me”, “The house isn’t finished”.

I had not experienced this level of fog, discomfort and panic in my thoughts before as I was at that time. It was like everything was going wrong. Louise, as always, was amazing…she listened, supported and loved me with no questions or expectations asked, and at one point she even told me to pull myself together when one evening I could not stop the water works (tbf - it was needed to be said!).

For a few weeks I was still in shock, however, I started to move forward from the emotional to the practical, because that is what I am good at. Being practical and controlling things, I am a serial control freak. I pushed down the thoughts, worries and impending doom that I had about having cancer and thought forward towards getting surgery completed and getting to the other side.

During this time I did accept a telephone session of talking therapy, however, it was not for me. I felt awkward talking about the diagnosis and let’s be honest, there were people out there that have a lot more devastating news delivered to them that I have had. I was just being selfish taking a therapists time up…”I am fine” I said to the therapist, “I will let you know if I need another session”. I did not take the offer of speaking to her for quite some time…I really wish I had now.

I went through all of the treatments that they offered to try and get this cancer out of me and in hindsight this was pretty easy to handle as I knew the physical side was something that I could help make an impact upon. What was bubbling away was the emotional toll that it took upon me. I was thinking constantly that at some point someone was going to say “sorry, we can’t do anymore…your time is up”. This is mentally draining, trust me, a real life energy suck.

When asked, I kept saying “Yep, I’m fine thank you”, but reality dictated that I wasn't. It had started to take a toll on me and I needed to start working it through properly with some external help. This is when I said that I need to pick back up with the therapy sessions.

So in mid 2024, I re-started my sessions with an NHS therapist specialising in cancer. This is over three years after initial diagnosis…THREE YEARS! Three years I had been sitting on these thoughts thinking that they would just eventually pass by, I was being optimistic. I was not going to be able to move this along by myself, I needed someone to help me unpick it all. I am so glad that I did!

It was uncomfortable to start with as I felt like a bit of a fraud, like I did not warrant being there. However, Michelle (the therapist) was amazing…sitting, listening, asking why…without judgement or opinion. Gently scratching away at my surface to understand what feelings I had locked away that we could sort through together. I suddenly felt like I could talk the real truth in a safe environment about how I felt…Michelle didn’t need anything from me, I did not need to feel like I had to be strong in front her or that I had something to protect her from anything that might upset her.

It was like a massive burden was lifted from my life, a truly worthwhile exercise in accepting whatever the future held for me.

Now I fully appreciate that therapy is not for everyone, and I never thought that it would help me. But if you are reading this, or are close to someone in a similar situation, I would ask you to think about giving it a go…you never know!

I work on my mental health everyday in a way that I have found works for me, life is so much fuller now than it has ever been. I put this down to allowing myself to open up a little and get some external help 🫶.

Till next week!

If you need more support then there are some great charities ready to help:

United Kingdom: https://prostatecanceruk.org

United States: https://www.pcf.org