In the world of pro wrestling, when both your shoulders are pinned down flat on the ring and the referee counts to three – otherwise known as a three-count – you’ve lost that match.

I’m a pro wrestler and my shoulders have been pinned down in that way many times.

I’ve often been unable to ‘kick out’ – using my legs to break out of the pin and get my shoulders off the mat – before gingerly walking backstage to shake my opponent’s hand.

I expect it in the ring; but I would have never thought my shoulders would be flat on a hospital bed instead, as I was wheeled into an operating theatre to remove a tumour from my kidney. Diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma – stage 3 kidney cancer – I faced my biggest opponent yet.

It started on a perfectly normal evening.

I was at home playing Call of Duty: Warzone with the boys in lockdown 2020. We were all joking around, waiting for the next game to start. I got up to use the bathroom, and that’s when my world shifted.

Blood. In my urine. A vivid, unmistakable red.

What was happening? My thoughts raced but I convinced myself it wasn’t worth spiralling yet.

That was the beginning of my journey with kidney cancer.

After that initial shock, I went back to my game, trying to shake the unease. ‘Hey, something weird just happened,’ I said casually, as if downplaying it might make it less real.

When I told my friends about the blood, the joking around stopped. Their concern was immediate, but so was their advice: ‘You need to get that checked out.’

But the macho wrestler in me decided to leave it for a few more weeks, ignoring the daily image of blood in my urine. It became increasingly red but I continued to brush it off. Google told me it could be a UTI, so that was the narrative I stuck with.

Around this time, I started noticing other changes too. My appetite vanished. I could barely eat half of what I normally would – I had always had a big appetite from lifting weights.

But I dismissed it, blaming lockdown and not being able to work out how I did due to the gyms being closed. So, I accepted my 7kg muscle loss.

I eventually told my sister. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t mince words. ‘Adil,’ she said firmly, ‘You have to see a doctor.’ I brushed it off at first but her insistence stuck with me, and when I saw blood again a few days later, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I finally booked an e-consult with my GP, a month after the initial red flag. The doctor’s voice grew serious as I spoke over the phone and they immediately referred me for tests.

From that moment on, everything moved fast: blood tests, urine samples, ultrasounds, a cystoscopy, CT scans, and finally a biopsy. Each appointment brought a mix of dread and hope. ‘Maybe it’s nothing,’ I’d think. But also ‘What if it’s something?’

The day of my diagnosis is etched into my memory. I asked to be called with my biopsy results instead of traveling 45 minutes to Hampstead’s Royal Free Hospital. I just wanted them to rip the band-aid off.

‘You have kidney cancer,’ said the doctor on the phone.

Time seemed to slow down. I remember staring at the floor, trying to process what that meant.

Cancer. How? Why me?

All I could think about was how drastically my life had just changed, but I needed my mindset to be bulletproof.

The decision to have surgery was made quickly. My tumour was large, and surgery was the best, and only option to remove it before it could grow further. I was terrified but also relieved that something could be done.

Between my diagnosis and the surgery, only a few weeks passed, but those weeks felt endless. The wait was agonising. I spent a lot of time reflecting, praying, and trying to prepare myself mentally for what lay ahead.

The surgery was physically and emotionally gruelling – my abdomen was bandaged up, I was still high from the anaesthesia and sat in an empty ward with no friends and family around me as lockdown restrictions were still active.

The pain was intense, but so was the relief – the tumour was gone. The surgery had been major – they’d removed my entire kidney, so recovery was slow.

There were days of frustration and tears, as I processed what I’d been through and struggled to adjust, but also moments of gratitude. Friends and family rallied around me – their support was a lifeline through the tough days.

When I got the all-clear that I was cancer-free, ‘Alhamdulillah’ was the first thing I said. The Arabic phrase meaning ‘All praise to God’ captured my overwhelming relief and joy.

But the experience left its mark, which is why I decided to share my story and make a documentary – ‘Wrestling with Cancer’. It’s a self-made project, directed by me, with my good friend as the director of photography Saif Babur, and SHXRPSHOOTRS production house.

It went to film festivals worldwide and is aimed at helping others going through similar battles – we talk to other cancer survivors and their journey, raise awareness about cancer, and show that there is hope, even in the darkest moments.

Working on the documentary has been incredibly rewarding, and given me the opportunity to go on national TV to tell my story – it has turned this from a negative into a positive.

I also get DMs from newly diagnosed cancer patients saying that they didn’t think there could be any light at the end of the tunnel, until they found my story.

It’s important I tell people that cancer cannot put you in a box and shackle your life down – instead it gives you the biggest fight of your life and if you are blessed to overcome it, anything is possible.

These days, I’m back to acting and wrestling, a passion I’d put on hold during my treatment.

Getting back in the ring after one year post op was both terrifying and exhilarating. My body felt different, but it also reminded me of my strength and what I’d overcome.

If there’s one thing I want readers to take away from this, it’s this: Listen to your body. Don’t ignore the signs, no matter how small they seem, and contact your GP to get checked.

When faced with challenges, lean on the people around you. Their support can make all the difference.

Cancer changed my life, but it also gave me a new perspective.

My doctor told me that I still have to live with the fact that there’s a one-in-three chance my cancer will come back, but I’m more determined than ever to live fully, to chase my passions, and to make every moment count.

But finding cancer early makes it more treatable, so I won’t be putting off any warning signs in the future.

There’s no way in hell I’m letting cancer pin me with my shoulders down for the three-count. Instead, you best believe I am kicking out.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk.