Albert “Bud” North has lived a life marked by hard work, resilience, and deep faith. A shearer turned truck driver from Invercargill, Bud’s life changed dramatically in 2016 when he was diagnosed with stage 4 prostate and bone cancer.
It’s been quite a journey! Exciting, yes, but not always pleasant. If you’ve got a scientific mind, it can be fascinating in a strange way. But living through it? That’s something else.
Back in 2013, I came down with shingles. That’s when the trouble started. I was off work for six weeks, stuck on the couch. Couldn’t do a thing. I was lucky to have a friend who worked at a nursing home. She made sure I had meals and didn’t fall over or hurt myself. I didn’t realize it then, but that was the beginning of something much bigger.
I didn’t get any better. I kept getting sick. It was the same symptoms, over and over. Nausea, low blood pressure, no energy. I was working at the meat works back then, and I'd go see the nurse whenever I felt crook.
Two or three times they sent me to A&E or my GP. No one could figure out what was going on. I was really unwell.
Then came 2016. I ended up in A&E three times in three months. One doctor finally said, “There’s really something wrong with you,” and she started digging. She found a lump on my prostate.
That was the beginning. It turned out to be prostate cancer. And bone cancer too. Both were stage 4.
I’ve always had a pretty practical way of looking at life. We’re all terminal from the day we’re born. So when the doctors said I couldn’t be cured, I thought, Alright. What next? One told me I had 2–3 months to live. Another gave me 12–13 weeks. That was December 2016.
They offered chemotherapy, and then the oncologist asked if I’d be willing to take part in adrug trial. This was a brand-new medication, originally developed in China and later taken over by the Americans. I was the very first person to take it. Twelve New Zealanders were chosen, in groups of three. The only criteria to qualify for taking the drug … you had to be terminally ill.
In May 2017, one day before my birthday, I started that drug officially, alongside 21 cycles of chemo. The 22nd was the experimental treatment.
It was five pills, taken all at once, followed by a week in hospital for monitoring. I got the pills on a Wednesday at Dunedin Hospital. By Sunday, I honestly thought I was going to die. It was unbelievably powerful.
But I lived. Much longer than anyone expected. But I’ve been sick a lot since, and now I think I’m on my final chapter.
Up until September last year, my brother and I went fishing every Friday on the Mataura River. We were pretty successful and usually got our limit of two. But I’ve only managed to get out once since then. My health is just not what it used to be.
Even going to church is hard. I went last Sunday and had to leave after half an hour. My back gets so sore it feels like a deep bruise. Every two hours, I have to check my bladder. It stopped working, so I’ve had a permanent catheter since September. It’s annoying, but I’m used to it.
I’ve learned to stay positive, though. There’s always someone worse off than me.
It’s strange, what keeps you going. The trial drug and my faith in the Lord, that’s what’s kept me moving forward. I said to myself early on, I’m not going to let this disease ruin my life. It’s starting to now, but we’ll see how it plays out. My urologist reckons I’ve got one to two years left. I want to live to 86. I’ll be 72 soon. They’ve got it wrong before!
In 2022, I was referred to the Cancer Kairahi Service. The referral had come through from Tōku Oranga, a Ngā Kete service that provides holistic, patient-led support through health and wellbeing navigation. I’d just had an oncology appointment and had a blocked ear. I needed support, someone to be a second set of ears. The Tōku Oranga kaimahi used to come on Fridays and take notes during my appointments. That was a godsend. Five minutes after talking to the doctors, I’d forget half of what they said.
The support from the Cancer Kaimahi has been incredible. Jo and Barb pop in about once a month, just to say hi. It might not sound like much, but to someone like me, it means everything. They drive me to appointments, sit in, take notes - just making sure I’m not alone in all this.
I’ve been through a lot. But I’ve also learned a lot. I’ve met amazing people. I’ve seen how different cancer is for everyone and how every treatment hits differently. But the biggest lesson? You can’t get through something like this alone!
And thanks to the people around me, I haven’t had to.
