Chris Hoy phoned after my diagnosis. If only I'd listened to him earlier

Times

12 hours ago

Last year, like millions of people, I read with astonishment the news that Sir Chris Hoy, one of our most decorated Olympians, had been diagnosed with cancer.
A few months later, Hoy revealed that it was advanced stage 4 prostate cancer, that it had spread to his bones and was incurable. The common thought I suspect so many of us had was — blimey, how can one of the fittest people on the planet get that?
I'd been lucky enough to be in the front row at the Olympic Velodrome in 2012 when two mountainous men on bikes exoceted towards the finish line at 50mph — Hoy getting across the line almost by sheer force of will to beat his opponent and claim his sixth Olympic gold. Superhuman.
• Jeremy Clarkson: I don't mind prostate checks — beats being dead
On hearing Sir Chris's devastating statement, the males among us, particularly those aged 67 like me, probably also thought, if he can get it, we ought to get ourselves checked. I certainly intended to. But I never did. Seeing friends, football matches, even walking the dog, simply life itself, just seemed to intervene and, anyway I felt fine — no symptoms.
Then just two months later, numb with shock, pretty much unable to speak, I found myself listening to a calm, mellifluous Scottish brogue talking me through my own identical diagnosis, based on his experience. Chris was on the phone. He called me after hearing through a mutual contact. It was a mental lifeline.
It's impossible to describe the devastation any stage 4 cancer diagnosis causes — unless you are one of the thousands who receive one. Exact figures for stage 4 prostate are a bit sketchy, but it's approaching 10,000 men every year. Including their wider families, that's a heck of a lot of annual shock. And the numbers are increasing.
My own physical problems began during one of those trips I'd long planned after stepping back from daily news-reading duties in February 2023. I was on a long-anticipated trip to southeast Asia with my wife when I started to feel distinctly weird.
As the days went on, I could hardly get out of bed, and by the time we made it to the flight home I was in agony. I felt like I'd been shot in the back. So, it was straight off the flight — a taxi to A&E and five hours later my world was upended. The cancer was spreading fast, and I needed immediate surgery to keep me alive.
After the numbness and shock of diagnosis, the negative thoughts come flooding in. Firstly, of course, how long have I got?
Then, 'Why, oh why, didn't I get that check?' hard on its heels.
And perhaps the worst, 'You bloody fool, what have you done to your family?'
There have been positives too, though, plenty of them, believe it or not. First, let what has happened to us be a wake-up call to other men. I'd write this next sentence in 6in-high capital letters, like some demented world leader on his own social-media platform, if the sub-editors would allow it.
If you're over 50, in a high-risk group or have a family history, get yourself checked. Do it and do it this week. And if your GP thinks it's not worth doing, you have a right to insist. So insist.
• My night with the prostate vigilantes offering tests the NHS won't
It's a simple prostate specific antigen (PSA) test. It only costs a few quid. It can cause false alarm in some cases, but surely if it picked up more cases in their early, easily treatable phase, it would save the NHS millions? Prostate cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death in males in the UK, accounting for 14 per cent of all cancer deaths in men.
Testing is particularly pertinent for me personally because, as part of my job as an interviewer, I sat on TV sofas and in studios for decades hearing clinicians, medics and researchers saying get tested when you pass 50. I listened but didn't act.
The only crumb of comfort I have from the reasons for my procrastination is that I never had any obvious symptoms — increased night-time peeing, blood in the urine, uncontrollable urges to go. So be aware this disease is insidious and can spread silently and rapidly.
There are even positives for members of the stage 4 club. A lot of the headlines about Chris Hoy's news and now mine screamed that we have terminal cancer. Well, yes and no. Life itself is terminal ultimately, after all, and so often for those with prostate cancer, some other condition gets you first.
• Chris Hoy: I'm busy proving life doesn't have to stop
Doctors have to put a number of years on how long you've got, because it's usually the first question they get asked. But everyone responds to the medicines differently, and prostate cancer is heterogenous. So, I prefer to say, sure, it's incurable, but it is treatable, and becoming increasingly so, with the myriad discoveries, repurposed drugs and new combinations coming down the track.
Is there a chance, cutting-edge researchers such as Sir Chris Evans, founder of the Cancer Awareness Trust, are asking, that we're not too far away from it becoming like HIV — once a death sentence, but now manageable? And I'm not just saying that because I want it to happen.
But the greatest positives? They are obvious life-lessons really, but too many of us forget about them. Family, friends and living in the moment.
I couldn't get through this without my wife, children and wider family backing me up so resolutely. Emotional support, hospital trips, banter — even breakfast in bed! I think about them more than I do the cancer — and I'm sure that goes for all of us with stage 4.
Friends — as the saying goes, you learn who the real ones are. So many people I lost touch with over the years have been getting back in contact, leading to more of those damn regrets — why didn't I give them a ring years ago?
And fundamentally you appreciate precisely how many minutes there are in each day and how to use them wisely.
In my case, some of those minutes are allocated to training for Chris Hoy's wonderful charity initiative, the Tour de 4 bike ride in Glasgow in September. I've got an inkling I might not be able to keep up with him.
Dermot Murnaghan hosts Legends of News, a new podcast available on all platforms. He is riding the Tour de 4 to raise money for Prostate Cancer UK. You can donate here.