Read here - https://inews.co.uk/inews-lifestyle/richard-herring-testicle-cut-off-men-faint-talk-3035969
May 3, 2024 10:00 am(Updated 10:20 am)
If someone had asked Richard Herring in his 20s whether in theory heād rather lose his genitals, or die, heād have probably chosen death. āMy genitals were much more important to me then,ā he says, āIād have worried about sexual function, and what it might do to my life, what guys in the changing room might say.ā
Yet when a doctor told the comedian aged 53, that because had testicular cancer theyād be removing one of his balls, he didnāt actually mind too much. āI wasnāt yelling āhurrah!ā, but I was so worried about dying, more than anything, that I just wanted the cancer gone. I think when the oncologist told me about the operation, she expected me to be more upset, but the tumour was six centimetres already ā bigger than the testicle itself ā and I just wanted to stay alive.ā
Instead of fear, he says he felt an intense sense of relief as he floated away under the general anaesthetic; when he had first got the call confirming that he had cancer, heād heard his two-year-old son laughing in the next room, and thought, āoh my god, heās not going to remember me, Iām going to be dead in two months.ā Herring cried, and he felt anger, too. āAbout them not having a dad, how it would affect them, and then my own anger that Iād put so much work in and they wouldnāt know who I wasā¦ I also thought that it might be better if I died straight away, the kids would be so young it might affect them less.ā
This was in 2021, during lockdown, and he went into overdrive, attempting to make as many memories for his children as he could. āA lot of my trying to create these magical moments actually went a bit wrong, because the magical memories actually come when youāre not trying, but it was all very profound to me, and everything came into sharp focus.
āIāve thought about death a lot since I was a little kid, but in that moment I understood what I might mean. I just suddenly knew what was important, and it wasnāt my testicle.ā
He had wondered about how his sex and hormone levels may be affected, but says thatās all been ok for him. Following the operation, and a course of chemotherapy, Herring no longer has testicular cancer ā a type, which he has since learnt and rather wishes heād known sooner ā has a very high survival rate. If caught before it has spread, nearly all men survive.
It seems like a strange twist of fate that the stand-up comedian and writer, who lives in Hertfordshire with his wife and two children, would have ended up losing a testicle, given that heās previously done an entire show about male genitalia called Talking Cock and has written a book called The Problem with Men, about masculinity.
āThe balls are often seen as the centre of being a man,ā he says. āI got a tweet the other day from a guy whoād been to the doctor and found out he had testicular cancer, who said that having his ball taken off had made him feel like half a man, but at least heād see his kids grow up. The idea that youād feel half a man is really indicative of male fragility, and the male psyche, and that the weakest part of menās bodies is the thing they try to pretend is the strongest.
āI find it interesting, with all the debates around gender, that actually I donāt feel any different in myself for having one less testicle, and even if I had both taken off, Iād still feel like a man inside. Then again, Iām not a big tough guy, and also Iām in my 50s, I already have two children.ā Then, he adds, jokingly, āAnd, actually, my wife was suggesting we have a third child, so having my genitals gone might have been helpful for meā¦take my balls off, please!ā
The testicle-removal has been a part of Herringās latest standup show Can I Have My Ball Back?, in which he talks about the doctor explaining to him how heās going to do the operation. But an odd thing has begun to happen, about five minutes after he tells the story. āAbout six men have fainted during the 15 or so shows Iāve done so far,ā he says, āand the first time we called an ambulance because we thought the guy was having a stroke.
āItās not that graphic but do I mention them cutting a hole in your stomach, and then squeezing the ball through the hole, and then I talk about them asking whether I want general or local anaesthetic, and I say, well, Iād love a local because then I can watch my own testicle popping out of my stomach. Itās a joke [he had general] but it obviously brings to mind the idea of being semi-castrated. I donāt even think itās the detail, itās more the very idea of something happening to their genitals. Men are very protective of that area, and it taps into manās biggest fear, and the vulnerability of it all. You know what, though? This is the one time when itās a positive to have external testicles because theyāre not in your body, so unless the cancer has already spread, them being on the outside makes it easier to get rid of, and makes it a more treatable illness.ā
Catching it early, though, is the key, but Herring is like many men who put off going to the doctor. āI noticed there was a heaviness in my balls, and it felt odd, but I didnāt go and get checked straight away, I didnāt want to waste NHS time, and because it was Covid I thought what a terrible time it would be to get cancer. I also figured that nobody in my familyās ever had this and they all lived a relatively long time, so I foolishly thought I was saved from this sort of thing.
āI didnāt talk to my wife about it, either. Then I was away on an acting job in Wales, and I remember feeling like something is definitely wrong, so when I got home I told my wife and she convinced me that I definitely needed to see someone. I rang the GP, and they saw me within 36 hours.ā
Since talking openly about his experience, men have got in touch to say that they, too, have had their testicles removed, or that his story has made them go and get checked. āThe important thing is to know yourself,ā he says, āand once a month or so, just feel yourself and check for any changes. Itās scary, and I completely understand why people donāt do it, partly because of the embarrassment of knowing thereās going to be a someone in a white coat feeling your testicles, but itās worth the 30 seconds of discomfort, because itās really unlikely to be cancer, and if it is, you can get something done. I think that living with the fear of it being cancer is worse than the reality of having it.ā
Herring, while in the clear at the moment, is hyperfocused on his remaining testicle, and does worry about his health. He has since got fitter, and has found himself working less, and spending more time āhaving funā both with his family, and on his own. āI was also very aware that when I was having chemo, I was surrounded by people of all ages, some with possibly fatal cancer, and so sometimes I find it hard to process that Iāve even had cancer, and itās more like Iāve dabbled in it. But it did make me think, well, if this doesnāt kill me, then something else will, so Iād better have a nice time.ā
And, of course, because Herring is a stand-up comic, he canāt help but see the absurdity in even the scariest of moments. āWhen I was having my CT scan for testicular cancer, I noticed that the machine was made by Siemens. That kept my mind occupied for quite some time.ā
Richard Herringās new stand-up show Can I Have My Ball Back? is now on its UK tour. Information and tickets her