The Book I Wish My Family Had in 2005
In May 2005, my father was diagnosed with testicular cancer.
I was 18. I was working behind a pharmacy counter in Long Island, which meant I understood medication, I understood protocols, and I understood almost nothing about what our family was actually going through. We had doctors. We had appointments. We had information delivered in clinical language that answered the medical questions while leaving everything else unanswered.
What did this mean for his life? For our family? What were we supposed to feel? What were we supposed to ask? What came after treatment, and what did that version of life look like?
We figured it out. He survived. But we figured it out the hard way, without a roadmap, without a community, without a resource that could have met us where we were and said: here's what's happening, here's what to expect, and here's how to get through it.
I've spent the better part of 20 years trying to build that resource in different forms. Stupid Cancer gave young adults a community. TC Navigator gave patients an AI-powered guide. And now, the Testicular Cancer Foundation has published something I am genuinely, unreservedly proud of.
If These Balls Could Talk: A Guide to Testicular Cancer is the book I wish my family had in 2005.
It's 22 chapters. It covers everything, from what testicular cancer actually is, to early signs and diagnosis, to treatment options, to the things nobody talks about enough: fertility, sexual health, mental health, how to navigate conversations with your employer, how to manage isolation, how to be a caregiver without losing yourself, and what life looks like on the other side.
There's a chapter on myths and misconceptions, because misinformation is its own kind of harm. There's a chapter on sharing your story, because survivors are one of the most powerful forces in this space. There's a chapter on becoming an advocate, because knowledge is only as valuable as what you do with it.
The book is direct. It doesn't talk down to you, and it doesn't sugarcoat things. It's written in the voice of people who've actually been through it, because that's who we are. We're testicular cancer survivors and caregivers, and this book reflects 15-plus years of walking alongside patients, survivors, and families.
I'm excited about this release in a way I don't always let myself be excited about things. We announce a lot of things in this work. Campaigns, programs, tools, partnerships. And all of it matters.
But a book is different. A book travels. A book sits on a nightstand. A book gets passed from a parent to a son, from a coach to a player, from a doctor to a patient. A book shows up at exactly the right moment, even when no one is there to deliver it.
If someone had handed my father a book like this in May 2005, his journey would have been different. Not easier, necessarily, but better informed, less isolated, and more human.
That's what this book is. That's why I'm proud of it.
