When comedian and writer Michael Shafar first felt unwell in late 2017, he assumed it was nothing serious. He was 27, working full-time on The Project, touring Australia with his comedy, and gearing up for bigger stages. Life was busy.
“My right testicle was getting bigger, but I didn’t think it was anything serious,” he says. “Had I gone to the doctor straight away, I probably would have just needed surgery and been fine.”
Instead, after months of feeling rundown, catching colds, and dealing with back pain he blamed on anxiety, Michael mentioned it almost as an afterthought during a GP visit. By that afternoon, he had an ultrasound, blood tests, and a confirmed diagnosis: testicular cancer.
A CT scan revealed it had spread to his abdomen and chest. Things moved quickly – diagnosed on Friday, surgery on Monday, chemotherapy by Thursday. Only a week earlier, he’d thought he just had the flu.
“It was surreal,” he says. “But honestly, getting the diagnosis was almost a relief. I finally understood what was happening to my body and what needed to be done.”
Choosing to live life as Michael.
Through treatment, Michael made a conscious choice: to stay connected to the parts of life that made him feel like him.
He still wrote jokes. He still went on stage. He stayed working on The Project in between chemo cycles when he could.
“That was really important to me – not being defined by my diagnosis,” he says. “If you can keep doing the things that make you feel normal, do it.”
It wasn’t easy. Fatigue hit harder than anything he expected.
“I never really understood what fatigue was until chemo,” he says. “Sometimes I couldn’t even open my eyes.”
But he kept showing up – for his work, for his audiences, and for the life he wanted waiting for him on the other side.
Six months later, in August 2018, he got the news he worked so hard for: he was clear of cancer.
When cancer returned – resilience returned with it
Michael rebuilt his life with the optimism he’s known for. But in July 2020, doctors noticed something concerning on a scan.
The cancer was back.
“It was a real shock,” he says. Another round of treatment followed – harder in some ways, but met with the same determination and humour.
“I’ve gotta say, a huge advantage of losing a testicle – I finally feel comfortable in skinny jeans,” he told audiences at the Adelaide Fringe.
Humour became not just a coping mechanism, but a bridge – a way to talk openly about men’s health in a space where embarrassment often stops men seeking help.
If even one person in the crowd gets checked earlier, he says, it’s worth it.
Life after cancer: joy in the ordinary
Today, Michael has no active cancer detected, and ongoing tests continue to look positive. Life feels like his again – colourful, busy, hopeful.
And his gratitude sits in the everyday things.
“I remember how hard it was to keep food down during treatment. Now it’s a treat to demolish a lasagna.”
He laughs about the luxury of worrying about normal things:
“Whether a new joke will work on stage – that’s a much nicer worry than whether the chemo is working.”
His perspective has shifted. So has his future.
“The other day I thought: ‘I’d like to move to New York in five years.’ And then I realised – it’s nice to know I’ll probably still be alive in five years. I couldn’t think that way during treatment.”
At the top of his higlights real: “I got married in December 2023, which was pretty great. I didn’t want to propose until I felt confident about my health – so that was really special. Also, if I don’t say that was the highlight, my wife will be very upset reading this.”
A message for other men
Michael knows firsthand how embarrassment and avoidance can delay diagnosis – and dramatically change treatment.
“It’s kind of embarrassing to go to a doctor and show him your balls – but it’s absolutely worth it,” he says.
“If something feels off, just get it checked. Don’t wait.”
He hopes sharing his story helps men feel less uncomfortable about their health, and more empowered to act early.