Exactly five years ago, Javier Alcázar was admitted to the hospital for surgery to treat prostate cancer. He was 46 years old and had no idea what lay ahead: no one talks about men’s cancer the way they talk about breast cancer. From that experience—and from a summer in 2021 when he “hit rock bottom”—TheMoveMen was born, a movement that today brings together more than 70 members and some 50 volunteers and has set itself a goal as simple as it is ambitious: to end the taboo surrounding men’s cancer. We spoke with Javier about his diagnosis, the disease, and masculinity. What began as a devastating blow ended up transforming into a project that today mobilizes companies, doctors, patients, and institutions.
His life changed radically at age 46, with a diagnosis of prostate cancer. How do you remember that moment?
It’s impossible to forget. Five years ago now, I was admitted to the hospital for an operation that changed my life. They removed my prostate, lymph nodes, and seminal vesicles. From that point on, a completely different phase began.
The surprising thing is that the diagnosis came almost by chance.
I’ve been diabetic since I was 26, and I went in for a routine checkup with my endocrinologist, who at the time was reading a scientific article about a possible link between diabetes and prostate cancer. He suggested I get a PSA test almost on a hunch. I didn’t even know what PSA was. The result was completely unexpected. The normal range is 4 ng/ml, and mine came back at 22. From there, more tests followed, leading to the diagnosis. PSA isn’t a tumor marker in and of itself; it’s an indicator that something might be wrong with the prostate. If that doctor hadn’t been reading that article, I’d probably be talking about metastatic cancer today… or maybe I wouldn’t be here anymore.
What was your first reaction when you heard the word “cancer”? Was it a shock to receive the news?
The word “cancer” is incredibly frightening; the fear is overwhelming—you feel like you’re going to die tomorrow. In my case, it wasn’t metastatic cancer—39% of my prostate was affected, but it hadn’t spread—so, all things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But we men don’t talk about cancer—or death—as openly as we do, for example, with breast cancer.
“We men talk very little about our health. That silence continues to cost lives.”
Did you have any symptoms?
None. Absolutely none. I felt fine and was leading a normal life. That’s why I stress the importance of screenings so much. Prostate cancer may not show any signs until it’s already too late.
However, Spain still doesn’t have a screening program for prostate cancer.
That’s one of the big debates. Every year, around 35,000 cases of prostate cancer are diagnosed—practically the same number as for breast cancer. The mortality rate is also very similar. Yet there is an early detection program for one but not for the other. It’s true that, technically, the PSA test alone isn’t sufficient as a screening tool and requires additional complementary tests. But the European Union has already asked member states to explore how to implement early detection programs. We need to move in that direction.
It coincided with a particularly difficult time in your life.
I had just lost my mother to Alzheimer’s, right in the middle of the COVID pandemic, and I couldn’t even say goodbye to her. At the time, I wasn’t aware of the emotional toll that had been building up, since I had been her caregiver for eleven years. Later, I realized I had been enduring stress, family responsibilities, and work pressures for far too long… All of that eventually takes its toll. I’m not saying that’s why the cancer developed, because it would be irresponsible to claim that. But I do believe that the body speaks when we stop listening to it. I’m convinced that that emotional cocktail had something to do with my cancer.
“Spain still doesn’t have a screening program for prostate cancer, unlike the one that exists for breast cancer.”
You often talk about how cancer forced you to stop. What did you discover during that hiatus?
I discovered many things about myself. The first was learning to forgive myself. It sounds like a cliché, but it isn’t. There came a point when I even felt guilty for getting sick. Then you realize that it’s pointless to constantly ask yourself why it happened to you. What matters is what you do from there on out. Cancer taught me to accept myself, to love myself more, and to live with a different perspective. I thought I was happy before I got sick, but today I know that I’m much more aware of life.
You mention a very specific silence surrounding men’s cancer
There are at least three side effects that almost no one talks about: mental health, which cuts across all types of cancer; incontinence; and erectile dysfunction. I wore diapers for twenty days. I remember perfectly going to buy them for the first time and putting them on at home: no one explains what kind to buy; you stand in the pharmacy looking at the packages, and then you look in the mirror with them on, and—wow. For me, that image is a kind of symbol: when you truly bare yourself to yourself, the first thing you see are your shortcomings. But you also discover something important: you can keep going. That vulnerability ends up becoming a strength.
“Cancer forced me to stop. And, although I wish I hadn’t had it, it taught me how to truly live.”
And what about erectile dysfunction? Is the taboo solely related to the disease?
I’d bet my life that no one has ever told you they suffer from erectile dysfunction. And you don’t have to have cancer to suffer from it: stress, diabetes—a thousand causes can lead to it. On the other hand, all my female friends have spoken openly to me about breast cancer. Among my male friends, as far as I know, not a single one has. Until we normalize these conversations, we’ll continue to be too late.
However, none of that is ever really discussed.
That’s precisely the problem. Everyone knows stories of women who have spoken with tremendous courage about breast cancer. And thanks to that, there’s much greater social awareness today. On the other hand, how many men do you know who have publicly shared that they’ve had prostate cancer? Very few. And that means that when it’s your turn to go through it, you feel completely alone.
“The MoveMen isn’t just about cancer; it’s about life, prevention, and changing a culture”
And from your personal experience, TheMoveMen was born with a very clear motto: “Talking saves lives.”
Exactly. I had no role models. No one explained to me what was going to happen to me. Doctors do their job, but I needed to hear from someone who had walked that path before me. So I thought: if I missed having that voice, there must be thousands of men just like me. A few months after I shared my story, a friend got tested and was also diagnosed with prostate cancer. Another friend pushed to have the PSA test included in his company’s mandatory physical exam, and they detected something in him as well. That’s when I realized that talking saves lives. In January 2023, we decided to turn the tables: to turn that void—that silence surrounding men’s cancer—into a movement. And that’s how The MoveMen was born.
Why a movement and not simply an association?
Because we want to change a culture. Legally, we’re a nonprofit association, but our mission is much broader. We want to take men’s cancer out of the hospital and bring the conversation into companies, culture, sports, the media, and universities. Cancer doesn’t belong solely to the healthcare sector. It’s a social issue.
They also talk about male breast cancer.
Yes, it exists, although very few people know about it: there are about 700 cases in Spain. We’ve organized initiatives on this issue, and next year we plan to hold what would be the first conference on male breast cancer in Spain in Zaragoza, together with the INVI Association, the only organization dedicated specifically to this topic.
“Putting an erection before one’s own life is a mistake we still see today”
You also talk a lot about the role of women.
Because they’re essential. Today, they remain the primary advocates for men’s health. It’s often women who tell their husbands, fathers, or sons to go see a doctor. That shows we’re still stuck in a cultural model where men have delegated the responsibility for their own health. We have to change that model.
You say that men’s cancer isn’t just a problem for men.
No. It’s a social problem. When a man gets sick, his partner, his family, his children, his workplace, and his friends all suffer too… That’s why The Movement Men works across all these areas. We don’t want to talk only about patients. We want to talk about people.
In just two and a half years, you’ve made a huge impact with TheMoveMen.
The truth is, we’re very proud. We have leading doctors, companies that believe in the project, researchers, patients, and volunteers. We’re already active in different cities across Spain and continue to grow. We’re in Madrid; this year we’re launching in Barcelona, and next year in Valencia. We host an annual gala, have a social media presence, organize numerous activities, and collaborate with institutions like the Spanish Association of Urology. There’s still a long way to go.
Are you afraid today? Do you still undergo regular checkups?
Yes. Cancer is still a part of my life. Last year, I had to undergo twenty sessions of radiation therapy because residual cells were detected. Obviously, that wasn’t good news. But even that experience, I tried to approach differently. I took the opportunity to learn about the work of healthcare professionals who often remain unseen and to bring them into the spotlight as well. It’s not about denying reality. It’s about choosing how you face it. Fear never completely goes away. I don’t know if one day I’ll die of cancer, with cancer, or from something else. No one knows. But I do know one thing: as long as I’m here, I want to live life to the fullest.
Talking about men’s cancer saves lives; it forces us to rethink how we understand the disease and take care of our own health
What would you say to a man who’s putting off a checkup because “I’ll go another day”?
That he’s playing with his life. Recently, a woman told me that a friend of hers didn’t want to have surgery because he feared losing his erectile function. My response was very clear: Are you really going to prioritize an erection over your life? I think that sentence perfectly sums up the problem we still face.
Are younger generations breaking that taboo?
I spend a lot of time in business circles, with young people, executives… and I notice that mental health, for example, is discussed much more openly than before. It’s easier to talk about certain things, and that’s a positive step, although there’s still a lot of work to be done.
After everything you’ve been through, what does TheMoveMen mean to you today?
It’s probably the most important project of my life. A vital movement that aims to change the way men’s cancer is viewed in society, by talking openly about it—among both men and women. Not because I created it, but because it can help other people feel less alone. If we can get one man to see a doctor early on, help another man find the courage to say “I’m scared,” or help a family find support, it will all have been worth it. Because, in the end, talking saves lives—and that’s our reason for being.
