What cancer taught me about business and humanity

When you start a company, you expect to deal with the usual pressures like recruiting the right people, winning clients, balancing the books, keeping pace with competitors. You plan for risk, downturns, growth. What you don’t plan for is being told you have prostate cancer.

My diagnosis came after a routine health check flagged a Prostate-Specific Antigen level of 3.6 - slightly above typical levels. Further tests confirmed Stage 2 prostate cancer with a Gleason score of 3+4 - intermediate risk. It was a shock. I had no symptoms, no reason to suspect anything was wrong. I decided on brachytherapy, a targeted internal radiation treatment that offered the best chance of tackling the cancer while keeping life as normal as possible. I remember thinking there were two ways to look at it: unlucky to have cancer, or lucky to have caught it early. I chose the latter.

That perspective has shaped everything since, how I handled the diagnosis, how I led the business through treatment, and how I now think about what really matters in leadership.

Sharing the news

Telling people was, without question, one of the hardest parts. People expect steadiness from a CEO. You’re meant to be the one with answers, the one who doesn’t waver. But pretending nothing was wrong didn’t feel right. So I was honest.

I told my leadership team first, then the wider business, and finally our clients. I explained the diagnosis, what the treatment would involve, and reassured them that I intended to stay as involved as possible. I wanted to strike a calm and factual tone, no drama or ambiguity.

The response was overwhelmingly positive. People were genuinely kind. Some colleagues quietly checked in to see how I was coping, others offered to take things off my plate, clients sent thoughtful messages, and friends from the wider business community reached out too.

It truly meant more than I can say. In those moments, I realised that showing vulnerability doesn’t make you weaker; it reminds everyone, including yourself, that you’re human. And it has the power to strengthen relationships in ways that pure professionalism never can.

Building a business that can stand on its own

My first worry was about continuity. Would the company cope without me at full capacity? Would clients lose confidence? Would the team feel unsettled? These are questions that every founder secretly asks themselves, even in ordinary times.

What happened next surprised me. The business didn’t just manage. It thrived. The leadership team really came into their own. Everyone pulled together, decisions were made as a group, and that trust we’d built over the years suddenly felt very real. Watching it unfold was reassuring. It proved something I’d always believed but perhaps never truly seen in action: a strong business doesn’t revolve around one person. It’s grounded in shared values and in people who feel confident enough to lead when the moment calls for it.

That period forced me to step back, delegate, and trust others more deeply than I ever had. And it worked. The company ran smoothly, clients stayed supportive, and I had the space I needed to focus on recovery.

A changed outlook

Once treatment was behind me, I realised my outlook had changed completely. Since then, I’ve become far more intentional about how I spend my time, both in the business and outside it. I’ve always cared about building a business with purpose, but this whole experience brought that into sharper focus. When I think about the future of the business now, I don’t just think about growth or innovation. I think about impact. How can we use what we’ve built, our platform, our relationships, our community, to do something meaningful beyond the balance sheet?

That includes health awareness. Prostate cancer affects one in eight men in the UK, yet it’s still a difficult topic for many to discuss. Since sharing my story, I’ve connected with men from all walks of life who’ve been through it, or who are worried about getting tested. Those conversations have been honest, often emotional, and always grounding. Some of the most meaningful moments have come from people who reached out privately after reading my post about my diagnosis. They wanted to talk, to ask questions, or just to say thank you. I’ve tried to offer the same in return; sometimes by sharing my experience, sometimes simply by listening.

What businesses can do

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that businesses have a huge role to play in normalising health conversations, especially for men. Too often, these things stay quiet until it’s too late. Creating a culture where health isn’t a taboo topic makes all the difference.

That means encouraging people to get checked, sharing information about screening, and being flexible when someone is going through treatment. It means leading with empathy, not policy. When employees see that their wellbeing matters as much as their performance, it builds trust and loyalty that no benefits package can match.

I’ve also become more active in supporting awareness efforts. I’ve raised funds for Prostate Cancer UK through charity events, including the Sir Chris Hoy Tour de 4 54-mile cycling challenge, and I’ll keep using my platform to encourage men to take their health seriously. A quick test can save a life. Mine is proof of that.

Looking forward

This experience has changed me, but not in the way I first feared. It hasn’t made me more cautious or less ambitious, it’s made me more intentional. I want to build a business that does great work, but also one that stands for something. I want to help create an environment where people feel supported through every part of life, not just the parts that fit neatly into a workday.

If there’s one message I’d pass on to other men, it’s simple: don’t wait. Get checked, even if you feel fine. And talk about it. The more we speak openly about health, the more lives we’ll save, and the stronger, more human our workplaces will become.

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