In November 2017, I woke one morning in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, to find a pea-sized lump in the base of my penis. Ow!
I had a bit of pain, which I thought was odd but didn’t think it was likely be serious.
I went to the local pharmacy and purchased a tube of Canesten (which I’ve always thought of as the WD40 for the genital area). For a week or so I applied it, but there was no improvement.
I decided to head down to the sea, thinking salt water and some relaxation would help with this irritation.
There still hadn’t been any change so I thought: ‘I know what, I will do what most blokes do and take a two month course of Ignorit!’
So, I did. I pretended it didn’t exist.
I’ve been a performer for 38 years, as a comedian and clown; I’ve acted in street theatres, stand up comedy and TV. Before I discovered the lump, I’d been working and performing for the British Council in South Korea.
When I received an offer of work in Adelaide, South Australia, I thought I’d combine the trip with a visit to the GP. I was convinced my lump was an abscess and it would be easier to get it removed in a country where I spoke the language.
So, shortly after arriving in Adelaide, I went to the doctors. I got a scan and was sent straight to see a specialist. The place seemed posh, with a plasma TV, water coolers, carpets, sofas, no queues… nice. I was calm.
Then I was called in to see the specialist. He told me to drop my pants, examined me, told me to pull my pants back up and informed me I had penile cancer. It was stage 3 to 4 and he would have to amputate my penis or it would kill me!
Penile cancer? I’d never heard of it, had anyone else?
He then told me I wouldn’t have sex again. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was like that moment in Jaws when Chief Brody’s chair shoots forward after realising that the shark is in the boating lake where his kids are.
I was spinning, I was feeling sick, and I was on my own with Dr Bastard. He produced a model of a penis and showed me where the tumour was and how much of it needed to be removed. He offered a free biopsy if I came back in an hour, but if I left it until tomorrow it would cost $200.
Inside I was saying: ‘You animal, you total barbarian, you uncompassionate bastard!’
But, I bowed my head and backed out of the room saying ‘thank you’ – and that I would be back in an hour.
The results of the biopsy came back positive for penile cancer. I got an MRI (being placed inside Buck Roger’s washing machine was a new experience). It was like the worst industrial rave I’d ever been to. I felt I needed a second opinion, so I decided to return to London.
I boarded a plane for the UK, imagining Dr Bastard standing on the runaway waving a scythe shouting: ‘Come back, I’ll cut your c**k off, It’s mine!’ Another one lost for his trophy cabinet.
Arriving home, I was in a real state. What had been a pea-sized lump was now more like a cocktail sausage. I couldn’t pee and residue was coming out; it was very painful.
I was really sick, but, somewhat ironically, my local hospital, St George’s University Hospital, Tooting, is one of the leading hospitals for penile cancer in Europe.
I spoke to a few close friends and family, including my two kids who are in their twenties. Everyone was shocked as no one had heard of this type of cancer.
On May 6 2018, I finally had the operation following a consultation at St. George’s.
I had nine injections around my penis and had marks made in my groins, as they were also doing a biopsy on my lymph glands to ensure it hadn’t spread.
I had a partial penectomy, an op to remove parts of the penis. My doctors reassured me they would be able to save part of it; I could even have sex and have children again! I could also have reconstructive surgery in the future.
In the end, they managed to save the base of the penis but they weren’t sure this was possible until the surgery itself.
The big thing they could remove though, was the tumour – and it meant I could be cancer free.
Penile cancer affects approximately over 600-700 people a year in the UK. The survival rate is over two thirds if diagnosed and treated.
It can be caused by strains of HPV, sometimes transmitted by contact, as well as phimosis of the penis. plus lifestyle habits such as smoking. Worldwide figures are approximately 36,000 cases per year.
By May 14, I walked gingerly out of St George’s. As well as the partial penectomy, I’d also been given a further biopsy of the lymph glands in my groin.
Thankfully the cancer hadn’t spread.
I should add at this point that as soon as I’d arrived back in London for surgery, I’d started writing my theatre show Dick – One Man In 100,000.
I’d mentioned the idea to my surgeon who looked at me in disbelief. But I thought it was very important to get awareness of penile cancer out there. I was still shocked by how few people knew about the disease.
Ironically, I’d been discussing my career with a friend who passed away the year before from cancer. We talked about challenging myself more with a solo show – and I’d been thinking about what it could be.
The next part of the rebirth was about to begin. In a lot of pain, but recovering slowly, I stopped taking codeine after a few months and continued writing.
It was my therapy to face my illness this way – comedy and tragedy are all part of life’s rich, frayed tapestry.
Six months after my op, I was having a check-up and asked about orgasms and masturbation. I was told by a slightly embarrassed doctor that if I really put my mind to it, I should be able to achieve full satisfaction.
This wasn’t a big challenge, although slightly nervous, I applied myself with great results.
Just after my op, I was quite lost and confused and had lots of questions. I had great support from Macmillan who put me in touch with Orchid Male Cancer Charity. Orchid gave me a lot of support. I hadn’t heard of them before and without them I would have struggled.
Over the last few years, I’ve worked with Orchid and been involved in medical conferences from a patient perspective. The first event I did with them was a charity run held at Olympic Park, in 2018, where 150 participants dressed in penis suits did the ‘Willy Waggle’. Because of events like these, awareness is growing slowly.
Now, I’ve made appearances on This Morning on ITV, with Phil and Holly, and did a spot on Stand Up To Cancer on C4. I’ve even been approached to do a TV documentary titled Shopping For A New Penis on Channel 5.
Last year, the first ever International Penile Cancer Conference was held, and now every September 20 is International Penile Cancer Day.
I’ve met many fellow sufferers, both online and in person, talking about the challenges we have to overcome – physically and mentally. However, inevitably, not everyone overcomes these, and I’m thankful I’ve had writing to help me get through it.
I’m a very open person and discussing penile cancer isn’t a taboo for me but it may well be for others. I definitely feel I’ve made a difference to sufferers and survivors in reaching out to them. Some have seen me on television or at conferences, and feedback has been positive.
Now in 2022, I’m heading towards reconstructive surgery at UCLH, where I’ll have laser treatment on my arm, which will then be used to build the scaffold of my new penis.
Hopefully after three operations, lasting over 14 hours in total, my new penis won’t still think it’s a hairy arm and want to pick my nose, pull pints and try to shake hands with people.
Dick – One Man in 100,000, by Richard Stamp, is at Rich Mix, 19th Feb, 8pm – as part of Certain Blacks presents Shipbuilding.
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