- When Craig noticed a spot on the head of his penis, he put it down to a common mishap.
- So when docs confirmed the spot was penile cancer, Craig was heartbroken.
- Now Craig is urging other men to see their doctor if something doesn’t seem right.
Here Craig tells his story in his own words.
Stepping out of the shower, I reached for a fluffy towel to dry myself.
As I wiped away the water on my thighs, I noticed a pea-sized red spot on the head of my penis.
That’s strange, I thought.
It looked like a freckle but, aged 49, I certainly hadn’t been sunbaking in the nude of late.
Maybe it got stuck in my zip, I reasoned.
‘Does it hurt?’
A common mishap when in a hurry, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d nicked the poor fella.
My partner Colette, then 50, noticed it later too. ‘Does it hurt?’ she quizzed.
It didn’t, so I pushed any worry from my mind.
When I began having issues relieving my bladder a few months later, in April 2020, I visited my GP, who gave me medication to help me urinate.
Although the spot hadn’t changed in size or colour, the doctor was concerned that it looked slightly sinister.
‘Best send you for a biopsy,’ she said. ‘Just to be sure.’
So I was sent to the cancer centre to have a sample taken.
‘It’s going to be nothing,’ Colette assured me.
The sick feeling in my stomach was telling me otherwise.
A few weeks later, back in the oncologist’s office, my worst fears were confirmed.
‘It’s going to be nothing.’
‘You have an aggressive form of penile cancer,’ he said gently.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked in disbelief.
But the next part truly rocked me. He said I would need part of my penis amputated to ensure the cancer didn’t spread.
It could then be reconstructed using muscle tissue from my thigh.
Making my way back to the car afterwards, I was in utter shock.
I called Colette to break the news, and when I walked in the door later, I fell into her arms.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ she assured me.
‘Better you be safe than sorry.’
When the day of my surgery rolled around six weeks later, I was equal parts nervous and relieved.
I just want the cancer out and this nightmare over, I thought, steeling myself.
‘Better be safe than sorry.’
As the nurse prepped me for the op though, she noticed the mark had spread and was now covering the entire tip.
The procedure was postponed so I could get another biopsy.
Nothing could have prepared me for the results two weeks later.
‘I’m so sorry, we need to amputate your entire penis,’ my surgeon explained.
Sadly, the cancer was so aggressive, radiation and chemotherapy wouldn’t be effective.
I immediately went weak at the knees.
This can’t be happening, I thought, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Like most men, my penis was part of my identity.
Who would I be without it?
The 30-minute drive to our place was agony as I wondered how I’d tell Colette, who was at home.
‘This can’t be happening.’
‘They’re taking all of it,’ I choked.
‘I’ll love you no matter what,’ she soothed.
The next four weeks waiting for surgery were hell and I fell into a deep depression.
Life as I know it will never be the same, I tortured myself.
What kind of man am I with no penis? What kind of lover will I be?
When the day of my op arrived in May 2020, my legs were trembling as I walked into the hospital.
As I was wheeled into theatre, my anxiety was building. Docs applied an epidural to my back, making everything from my waist down numb.
Terrifyingly, I’d be awake during the operation.
When a curtain was pulled over my chest, blocking my view, a nurse gripped my hand tightly.
Please no! Stop! I can’t do this! I wanted to scream, but the fear was paralysing.
So I squeezed my eyes closed and prayed for it to be over. Four hours later, I was in recovery.
‘The op was a success. You’re cancer free,’ the surgeon soothed.
I knew I should be relieved, but I was devastated.
My manhood was gone.
Sadly, a prosthetic wouldn’t be functional so I opted not to get one.
Penile cancer is a rare type of cancer that can present on the foreskin, head of the penis, or skin of the penile shaft. While it is most common in men who are uncircumcised, there are a range of contributing risk factors. These include, being diagnosed with Human papillomavirus (HPV), smoking, being over 50 years of age, pre-existing skin conditions such as psoriasis, HIV/AIDS, premalignant lesions and exposure to UV light.
What is penile cancer?
According to the Cancer Council, around 103 Australian men are diagnosed with penile cancer each year (about 0.8 cases per 100,000 people). While it is more likely to be diagnosed in men over 50, it can present at any age. In 2024, an estimated 166 new cases of penile cancer were diagnosed. In 2023, a total of 31 deaths from penile cancer were estimated.
How common is penile cancer?
Instead docs re-routed my urethra through a new opening so I could urinate.
After three days in hospital, I was allowed home to continue recovering.
Thankfully, Colette was my rock. ‘We’re going to get through this together,’ she vowed.
But my nightmare was far from over. Flashbacks from the operating theatre filled my thoughts.
I developed recurring UTIs and the ongoing nerve pain stopped me sleeping.
With constant pain and sleepless nights, I had no choice but to leave my job as a bus driver.
A year into my recovery, I felt completely defeated.
Seeing my GP, I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression.
But thanks to help from a psychologist, and Colette’s unwavering love, I realised that life was worth living, penis or not.
Now four years on, I couldn’t be more grateful for my second chance at life.
Though I worried how my diagnosis would impact my relationship, Colette and I have never been closer.
And while I still have some bad days, I’m now at a place where I can make jokes about my journey.
And with a surname like Mycock – yes, really – I have to have a sense of humour.
After the amputation, my penis was flown overseas for medical research – it’s clocked up more air miles than I have!
I’ve since discovered how rare penile cancer is, and I’m urging other men to see their doctor if something doesn’t seem right.
In Australia around 103 men are diagnosed each year.
And while it’s often diagnosed in those over 50, men of any age can develop penile cancer.
There’s no shame in seeking help.
It just might save your life.
