“Getting a cancer diagnosis floods you with emotions. The predominant one for me was fear. I can still feel that fear in my stomach.
If I really zero in on what that fear is about, it’s my kids and wife Jo. I want to be next to Jo until we’re old. I want to raise my son into a good man. I’d love to help give him skills and foster his compassion. I want to be a good role model for my daughter and encourage her to be the strong, capable person I can see she is.
I know both of my kids will be amazing people when they’re adults, but my fear is missing out on all our life together. It’s selfish, really, thinking about the things I’m going to miss out on. Not being here doesn’t impact me – it impacts the people I love most in the world.
The second emotion that came rushing to the surface after my diagnosis was anger. For me, anger and fear operate together. I already had anger at myself for not getting off the booze early enough. I was beating myself up, then I was diagnosed with cancer and the anger came at me hard.
That anger tied into the unfairness of my situation. My dad had passed away. I’d been dealing with someone who was so mentally and physically fit falling apart in front of my eyes. That wasn’t fair and I’d hardly had time to process my grief. Now I had cancer and I was so angry about it.

I did think, ‘Why me? What have I done to deserve this?’ I’d see an obese person walking down the road, smoking a ciggie and smashing a meat pie, and I’d think, ‘Why don’t they have cancer? Why do they get to trash their body and live?’
Then I’d think, ‘Actually, I don’t know anything about that person. I don’t know what ailments they’re battling or what they’re going through.’ That awareness made me appreciate that everyone has their own private story.
It’s like that saying that seems to pop up on my Instagram all the time: ‘Be kind. Everyone is facing a private battle. You never know what someone is going through behind their smile.’

Even though you understand that with your rational mind, it doesn’t instantly make what you’re going through OK or stop you from feeling afraid. My challenge was to make peace with the idea that I hadn’t done anything to get cancer – it’s just something that happened.
Bowel cancer is one of the hardest things to reckon with because no one knows where it comes from. There are lifestyle and carcinogenic factors, but they’re hard to pin down. You can’t say, ‘You had too many steaks, ciggies and beers between 4 February 2000 and 16 January 2020, therefore you got bowel cancer.’
It’s not like lung cancer, where there is a direct link to smoking or being exposed to asbestos etc. With bowel cancer, they don’t know exactly where it comes from or how to cure it, so there’s not one solution or treatment plan.

I’d find myself comparing my cancer to other people’s and going, ‘They got through this, so I’ll get through this.’ But that wasn’t accurate because everyone’s journey is different. What didn’t work for someone might work for me and vice versa. That’s as inspiring and hopeful as it is f**king worrying.
It’s a challenge to reconcile the feelings of unfairness, but I know cancer didn’t choose me because of something I did. It’s not mad at me for not taking the bins out or cutting someone off in traffic – which I would never do, by the way. With cancer, there’s nothing personal about it. It helped me to see it as an event that’s happened. It’s not my fault.
If I held onto the unfairness, that would make my anger go through the roof. And I want to set a good example to my kids of how to deal with something really bad. I want them to look back and go, ‘Wow! My dad was doing chemo when he took me to that rugby tournament. He wasn’t whining and bitching – he was just there for us.’

I don’t think they’ll understand how hard this period has been until they are a lot older and that’s the way I want it. I’d like to be completely honest with them, while protecting them from the potential outcome until it arrives.
I want my children to see that no matter what cards you’re dealt in this life, you can play your hand with dignity. Even when you need help, you still have the power to help others. You can still have a cheeky glint in your eye and make time to share a laugh.”
Dai tours Taranaki, Hawke’s Bay and Invercargill from March. For dates and tickets, visit laughwithdai.com.