‘Imagine I hadn’t gone to the doctor’: Nic Maddinson’s private battle with cancer

“I don’t think you should get on the plane tomorrow,” Orchard said.

The scans confirmed a tumour. Maddinson rang Bianca at work to break the news.

She flew up the following day, while Maddinson stayed in Sydney for more tests. He still arrived in Byron Bay on the Sunday for a quick trip “to let it all sink in”.

Three days later, Maddinson underwent surgery.

“I was with John waiting for some scans, and that’s when it hit me the most,” he says. “I had the surgery and I didn’t think too much about it.”

Then, after about seven weeks, came the words he didn’t want to hear: “The cancer has spread.”

“Once I found out I had to have chemo, that was pretty hard to deal with,” he says. “It had spread to parts of my abdominal lymph nodes and lung. That was a bit where it was pretty daunting. Bianca was the one asking all the questions. It was a bit of a blur. I’m glad she was there.

“I’m in awe of how strong and supportive she was through everything. She even quit her job as a dentist the day we found out I needed chemo.

“She took on literally everything at home, so I could rest when I needed, all while pregnant and struggling with her own sleep and looking after two dogs and a toddler.

“There were definitely days when it broke me mentally having to get up and go to hospital, and she helped me push through.

“She wanted to sit with me, all day every day, but I felt guilty for wasting her days, so she only came in a handful of times.

“Imagine if I hadn’t gone to the doctor.”

Maddinson thought he’d miss a few weeks in the off-season. But he was told his vision, hearing and fitness might never be the same. Reality hit home.

“Cricket was the last thing I wanted to think about,” he says.

Zampa was worried.

“In my head, I’m unfortunately thinking about the worst-case scenario,” the leg-spinner says. “What’s going to happen to my best mate? He had a really positive outlook on it. He just got on with it and didn’t make a fuss about it.”

On May 19, Maddinson embarked on his greatest challenge yet. Facing the fastest bowlers in the world was light work compared to five hours of chemotherapy every day at St Vincent’s Hospital – a five-minute drive from the SCG.

Nine weeks. Three cycles. Three weeks each. Endless sleep.

“At the start, I actually felt OK,” Maddinson says. “It takes a while to get into your system. By day three, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I didn’t really improve much after that.”

On day four, things took a turn. NSW teammate Moises Henriques came to visit. He sat silently, watching his mate have his body pumped full of drugs.

“I remember saying to Moey, ‘I just need to sleep today, mate. There’s no point hanging around too long’.”

Zampa offered to fly to Sydney whenever he could.

“I’ve never had someone close to me go through it,” Zampa says. “It was drop everything to try and help. He was lucky he had good support around.

“He’s always been really stubborn, so receiving help and asking for it when it’s needed certainly isn’t his strength. I couldn’t have imagined going through it.

“I’m speaking to my wife about it, then getting off the phone to Maddo, and I don’t really have the answers myself or know how to help.”

Maddinson felt bloated and put on weight.

“By the second or third week, I lost all my hair. I was feeling pretty average,” he says. “I was taking types of steroids to manage side effects, but they would keep me up at night. I’d be at the hospital from about 11am to 4pm. Then a sleep. Then I’d force myself to have dinner. I’d sleep until about 1am, but sometimes I’d then be awake until 6am. I found that difficult. I was super drained and felt like I had to sleep 24/7.

“I felt guilty. I couldn’t do anything around the house.”

Only a handful knew – family, Zampa, Sean Abbott, Henriques, Josh Philippe, Cricket NSW high-performance boss Greg Mail, and a handful of other friends outside of cricket. Word spread quietly, but Maddinson wanted to keep it tight.

During the winter, Mail told Blues players.

Maddinson, with no hair, moustache or beard, turned up one morning at Centennial Park to have a coffee with teammates before a fitness session. Hair was always Maddinson’s thing. He once bleached it peroxide blond before a Big Bash game and joked that “Gwen Stefani” was the inspiration.

“None of the boys asked, but it was pretty obvious something was going on,” Maddinson says. “I looked completely different.

“I wanted to feel like myself and go for a walk or a run. I didn’t really want to train for cricket. Batting didn’t interest me. I wasn’t envious of them playing. That was the first time in my life. It’s only recently that I’ve really wanted to play.”

He suspected some players on Australia’s Test tour of the West Indies knew. Some nights, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d watch the first session of action in the Caribbean on television as Bianca and August slept.

Sam Konstas, his NSW opening partner, was struggling with the bat for Australia – and so was Maddinson, in a different way.

In the morning, August would often find his dad asleep on the couch. He just wanted to go to the park again.

“You try and put yourself in those shoes, and it’s almost impossible to explain to your kid why you can’t play with them,” Zampa says. “His little guy Augie is an absolute champion. He’s all over the place and a ball of energy.”

Maddinson adds: “At home, he’d want to chase me down the hallway and tackle me.

“Bianca ended up saying to me, ‘I think you’re trying to do too much’. I tried to ride my bike one day and feel stupid for doing it now. I knew I felt terrible, but I just wanted to do something that I was used to doing.

“It was the slowest and longest nine weeks.”

Maddinson felt foggy and spaced out. He watched a lot of Netflix and cycling races. He deferred an online undergraduate psychology course at Curtin University because he was so exhausted.

“I was in hospital every Monday for about 12 weeks in a row. The first Monday we didn’t have to go into hospital was such a relief.

“The hardest part mentally was having to get a needle every day. I had bruised hands and forearms from the number of needles. I don’t think I could have physically taken myself back in there for one more day.

“I felt I was mentally pretty strong but I think I would have thrown it in.”

July 14 was a good day. Chemo was finally done.

Maddinson felt terrible but summoned the energy for a photo with August, who’d made a sign for his dad.

It said “LAST CHEMO” and was covered with stickers of dinosaurs.

Ten days later, he texted Blues batting coach Nick Larkin.

“Can I come and hit some balls?”

On July 28, still feeling terrible, he drove to Sydney Olympic Park, padded up and put a helmet on. No one else was there.

Larkin threw down some cross-seamers. The dashing left-hander belted them. He batted for half an hour, hit about 100 balls, and walked out. It was what he needed.

“I didn’t touch a bat for a month after that,” Maddinson says. “It was a weird feeling. Every time I mishit one, I got angry at myself in the nets. It was the first time I could bat without a care in the world.

“I stopped batting for a little bit because I didn’t want to just not care.

“Eight weeks after my last chemo round, I got good news. The treatment had worked.”

The road back to cricket wasn’t straightforward. The batting and strength returned. His fitness is still a work in progress.

“My recent tests were all good, and I can go about getting back into cricket, which I love,” he says.

On Thursday, Maddinson had a centre wicket net session with a few Blues squad members.

Once he faces some faster bowlers and ticks a few fielding boxes, Maddinson will be eligible for selection – perhaps for Easts, NSW Second XI, or the Blues’ Shield match at the SCG from November 10 to 13.

Have his goals changed?

“It’s tough question to answer right now. Yes and no,” he says. “I would still love to play Test cricket again, but I’m more realistic. The older you get, the less likely it is to happen.

“I had a really good opportunity last year and I just didn’t really grab it. I’m just really excited to try and play cricket again. I was dropped at the end of last year, so I’m not expecting to be straight back in the side.

“The most important thing would be to say I am available. That would be a nice day.”

He hopes something good comes of telling his story.

“I feel very lucky I live in a country where we have good medical care,” he says. “I am in a pretty privileged position to have access to John Orchard. He helped sort out all my appointments and was with me the whole time.

“When I found out I needed chemo, it hit me hard because I almost didn’t go. I thought it would go away. To know that I caught it probably as early as I could have, and it still spread into other parts of my body, that was scary.

“I just think it’s so important if you have anything you’re worried about, get it checked out.

“It feels silly to not tell my story. If one person reads it and gets checked, I’ll be happy. I grew up in the country and a lot of people fob it off. It’s a ‘she’ll be right’ attitude. Get the stuff checked out, it can make all the difference.”

August is back at the cafe with a grin on his face.

It’s time for the park, a kick of the footy, and a slow, steady return to normal life for the Maddinson family.

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