I thought I had a UTI – then my GP’s voice grew serious

In the world of pro wrestling, when both your shoulders are pinned down flat on the ring and the referee counts to three – otherwise known as a three-count – you’ve lost that match. I’m a pro wrestler and my shoulders have been pinned down in that way many times.

I’ve often been unable to ‘kick out’ – using my legs to break out of the pin and get my shoulders off the mat – before gingerly walking backstage to shake my opponent’s hand. I expect it in the ring; but I would have never thought my shoulders would be flat on a hospital bed instead, as I was wheeled into an operating theatre to remove a tumour from my kidney. Diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma – stage 3 kidney cancer – I faced my biggest opponent yet.

It started on a perfectly normal evening. I was at home playing Call of Duty: Warzone with the boys in lockdown 2020. We were all joking around, waiting for the next game to start. I got up to use the bathroom, and that’s when my world shifted. Blood. In my urine. A vivid, unmistakable red.

What was happening? My thoughts raced but I convinced myself it wasn’t worth spiralling yet. That was the beginning of my journey with kidney cancer. After that initial shock, I went back to my game, trying to shake the unease. ‘Hey, something weird just happened,’ I said casually, as if downplaying it might make it less real.

When I told my friends about the blood, the joking around stopped. Their concern was immediate, but so was their advice: ‘You need to get that checked out.’. But the macho wrestler in me decided to leave it for a few more weeks, ignoring the daily image of blood in my urine. It became increasingly red but I continued to brush it off. Google told me it could be a UTI, so that was the narrative I stuck with.

Symptoms can include:. Get help from 111 now if:. See a GP if you have:. Around this time, I started noticing other changes too. My appetite vanished. I could barely eat half of what I normally would – I had always had a big appetite from lifting weights.

But I dismissed it, blaming lockdown and not being able to work out how I did due to the gyms being closed. So, I accepted my 7kg muscle loss. I eventually told my sister. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t mince words. ‘Adil,’ she said firmly, ‘You have to see a doctor.’ I brushed it off at first but her insistence stuck with me, and when I saw blood again a few days later, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I finally booked an e-consult with my GP, a month after the initial red flag. The doctor’s voice grew serious as I spoke over the phone and they immediately referred me for tests. From that moment on, everything moved fast: blood tests, urine samples, ultrasounds, a cystoscopy, CT scans, and finally a biopsy. Each appointment brought a mix of dread and hope. ‘Maybe it’s nothing,’ I’d think. But also ‘What if it’s something?’.

The day of my diagnosis is etched into my memory. I asked to be called with my biopsy results instead of traveling 45 minutes to Hampstead’s Royal Free Hospital. I just wanted them to rip the band-aid off. ‘You have kidney cancer,’ said the doctor on the phone.

Time seemed to slow down. I remember staring at the floor, trying to process what that meant. Cancer. How? Why me?. All I could think about was how drastically my life had just changed, but I needed my mindset to be bulletproof. The decision to have surgery was made quickly. My tumour was large, and surgery was the best, and only option to remove it before it could grow further. I was terrified but also relieved that something could be done.

Between my diagnosis and the surgery, only a few weeks passed, but those weeks felt endless. The wait was agonising. I spent a lot of time reflecting, praying, and trying to prepare myself mentally for what lay ahead. The surgery was physically and emotionally gruelling – my abdomen was bandaged up, I was still high from the anaesthesia and sat in an empty ward with no friends and family around me as lockdown restrictions were still active.

The pain was intense, but so was the relief – the tumour was gone. The surgery had been major – they’d removed my entire kidney, so recovery was slow. There were days of frustration and tears, as I processed what I’d been through and struggled to adjust, but also moments of gratitude. Friends and family rallied around me – their support was a lifeline through the tough days.

When I got the all-clear that I was cancer-free, ‘Alhamdulillah’ was the first thing I said. The Arabic phrase meaning ‘All praise to God’ captured my overwhelming relief and joy. But the experience left its mark, which is why I decided to share my story and make a documentary – ‘Wrestling with Cancer’. It’s a self-made project, directed by me, with my good friend as the director of photography Saif Babur, and SHXRPSHOOTRS production house.