Why I grow a moustache every November.

And the importance of preventive cancer screenings.

Marty and I.

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My dog has a better moustache than I do.

Okay, it isn’t really a moustache per se but more his fur growing in such a particular way that the illusion is there. It looks good on him though, is the point (and as you can see from the above picture, Marty is a very handsome boy).

I’ve never had such luck, unfortunately but it doesn’t stop me from trying, every time November rolls around.

“Movember”: the one time a year I can grow a moustache and have it be socially acceptable.

If you’re unfamiliar, it began as an Australian initiative in the early 2000s: grow a moustache during the year’s eleventh month and in doing so, raise awareness for men’s cancer research, testicular and prostate specifically.

And within a decade, it became a North American fixture too, with backing from celebrities and major organizations both, including, quite prominently, the NHL (where hockey culture and questionable facial hair go hand-and-hand).

On a whole, cancer awareness across Canada has never been higher. Preceding “Movember”, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The continued efforts of the Canadian Cancer Society and the Terry Fox Foundation continue to inspire.

There are various cancer-supportive programs which allow for education, research initiatives and donation set-ups. The space to ensure that the necessary resources make their way to the appropriate people - who are working tirelessly so that, one day, we can all be cancer-free.

And if that means sporting some less-than-stellar upper lip hair for a couple weeks, then all the better.

But lost in the discussion, I think, are often those we forget to check in on - ourselves.

While I’ve never had cancer myself, I do have Lynch Syndrome, a genetic, hereditary condition that makes me far more susceptible to well, most everything, colon cancer in particular. The disease, by way of this genetic predisposition has taken far too many of my loved ones, including both immediate and extended family.

For most, your average man or woman won’t begin undertaking colonoscopies and possibly gastroscopies until well into middle age.

In my case, I’ve become much more proactive.

And that’s the thing - based on my personal medical situation and broader family history, I’m more conscientious and aware of the risks and preventive measures one can take.

Each individual health situation is different and every person should always have absolute autonomy over their body, medical or otherwise, and what they chose to do with it, let’s be clear on that.

But then you see someone, maybe a young person supposedly in good health, someone who “did everything right”, diagnosed with late-stage colon, stomach or other cancer. Someone who never bothered to inform themselves, despite their championing of others and it makes me so incredibly sad.

Entirely preventable, with proactivity and yet the catalyst for such loss.

There’s a young man out there who supports all the causes, who is growing a moustache this month and will happily raise money through the Movember program.

But they’re too embarrassed, too bashful, too unsure to discuss things like the risk of testicular cancer with their doctor or even if they’re not at the “recommended” age, considering booking a colonoscopy. They might think themselves above it.

They’re not.

Being transparent and putting ego aside? It just might save a life. It could be yours.

So even as we head into the back-half of November and the approaching holiday season begins pulling our attention in a million different directions, it doesn’t mean that our focus should dwindle.

Doing it for others, raising money and “looking out”, it is noble, absolutely.

But doing it for yourself? It just might be the greatest gift.

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