“I’m always worried it will be the last time I speak to him”: A best friend’s battle with prostate cancer and breaking male stigma

A stadium roars under the Australian sun, beers flowing, fans shoulder to shoulder – Colin Weir remembers the trip of a lifetime. But those moments carry a burden.

“I’m always worried it will be the last time I speak to him.”

The “him” is Mark Grayson, 62, from Liverpool, Colin’s best friend of over 35 years.

They met working in the Middle East, two lads far from home who bonded over their love of rugby and a pint.

“He’s my very, very, very close friend – we’re best pals,” says Colin, 61, from Scotland.

Mark agrees: “He’s a fantastic friend – always there when I need to talk.”

For the past decade, however, their friendship has lived under a shadow, after Mark was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

A friend’s battle with cancer

At first, there was hope for Mark – treatment seemed to work. But the cancer progressed beyond his prostate and he now lives with stage four stomach and bowel cancer.

“I’m a very positive thinking person,” Mark says. “Yeah, I’ve got stage four cancer, so does Sir Chris Hoy, and look at him. The guy’s a saint.”

Despite his optimism, Colin has seen the impact.

“The ripple effect of it is enormous. I know what it’s done to him, and I know what it’s done to his wife Debbie and daughter.”

Determined to do more, each March Colin takes part in Prostate Cancer UK’s “March the Month” challenge, walking 11,000 steps a day to raise money for cancer research.

“This makes you aware of it every single day,” he says. “Because the people who have it don’t get respite.”

This year, he far exceeded the target, racking up an impressive 43,000 steps. But challenges like this he says, are not enough.

The silent cancer that men don’t talk about

Prostate cancer affects 1 in 8 men in the UK. Yet it often goes undetected until it’s too late.

The prostate itself is a small gland that sits underneath the bladder. Its main job is to make semen- the fluid that carries the sperm.

Cancer develops when its cells grow uncontrollably – often without symptoms. But family history, age and ethnicity can all increase the risk.

If caught early, survival rates are almost 100%. At later stages, this drops to 49%.

For best mates Colin and Mark, that hesitation is rooted in male stigma.

“Blokes can be funny about these things,” Mark says. “They don’t talk, and they try to deal with it on their own.”

“Put it aside,” Colin adds. “Think about your family – what they’d have to deal with if you don’t take ten minutes to get a blood test.”

Ten minutes that could save a life

For many, prostate testing is still associated with embarrassment, fear, and homosexuality.

“There’s connotations around it,” Colin says. “Some guys just think, ‘Absolutely no way.’ I’m not getting anything inserted.”  

In reality, initial testing is usually a simple PSA blood test, and sexuality has no connection to the disease – but the myths persist.

In fact, in the North West, late diagnosis rates are among the highest in the country.

“When I’m getting everything else screened, it’s a no-brainer to get that added,” Colin says.

Mark urges: “Guys, have the bloody test! If I didn’t have stage four stomach cancer, I could just be on regular treatment for my prostate. I’d be very happy with that.”

Now working with Macmillan as a support “buddy,” Mark has seen firsthand how silence continues to persist.

“Only three men have contacted me,” he says. “Men just don’t want to talk about it.”

“I had no symptoms at all.”

Blackpool comedian Mike Simmons knows the effects firsthand.

Five years ago, during a routine check, a doctor casually asked what medication he was taking for prostate cancer.

“I hadn’t been diagnosed,” Mike recalls. “I had no symptoms at all.”

Mike was 58 when tests confirmed it.

“I feel very lucky,” he says now, cancer free. But the emotional toll remains- especially telling his family.

 “I broke down when I picked my wife up,” he says. “But I had to keep it together for my daughter.”

His daughter, Olivia, was just four years old.

Like Colin and Mark, Mike believes stigma is a major barrier.

“I think men feel invaded,” he says. “There’s this fear – it starts as a joke – but it sticks.”

Now he speaks openly about his experience on stage to hundreds.

“A young lad came up to me after a show, crying,” he says. “He said, ‘My dad’s got prostate cancer and won’t talk to me about it. I’ve learnt more in 20 minutes listening to you.

“You have a responsibility – to give people as much of your life as you possibly can give them.”

Changing the conversation

Across the UK, efforts are being made to break that silence.

The Barry Kilby Prostate Cancer Appeal runs community PSA testing events, often at local sports clubs – meeting men in comfortable environments.

At a recent event at Charlton Athletic FC, almost 500 men were tested.

“We tested 471 men,” says project manager Janet Ryan Smith. “58 flagged as red.”

A red flag means PSA levels are too high and those men were told to seek medical attention.

“We’re giving them that nudge,” Janet explains.

But a new pattern emerged.

“The majority of people who contact me are wives,” she says. “They’re the ones booking the appointments.”

Mark was not surprised.

“A lot of men would rather bury their heads in the sand,” Mark suggests. “If I don’t know, I don’t have to deal with it…and that is so wrong.”

It’s clear to Janet as she mingles at such events, that the stigma is still strong.

“Men come in asking, ‘Am I having a finger up my bottom today?” Janet says.

But it’s clear that behind the ‘banter,’ there’s a real sense of anxiety.

“You’ll find that quite a few of the men that come are very, very nervous. They don’t like the needle. They don’t look at it,” she said.

The challenge, she adds, is turning that fear into action.

A message that can’t wait

For Colin, the message is simple.

“Think about your friends” he says. “Think about your family.”

Mark agrees – and has learned to open up after undergoing counselling after his diagnosis.

“The worst thing you can do is keep it to yourself. I’m much more open now with my wife and daughter.”

After 10 years, Colin’s advocacy work feels more pressing than ever.

Because for him, every call carries the same thought –

What if it’s the last one?

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