As Colorectal Cancer Rises in Young Men, Silence Remains Deadly
By Junius Nottingham Jr.
* The thought & opinions in this blog do not necessarily reflect that of MHN’s thoughts, opinions, or values.
Most Americans have never heard of Lynch Syndrome, but it’s the most common cause of hereditary colorectal cancer. As a result, it is also drastically underdiagnosed – and with colorectal cancer rising among younger adults, we can’t afford to stay silent. I know better than anyone that silence can cost lives.
My son Jeremy was a federal law enforcement officer. He was trained to be disciplined, resilient, and tough. Like many men in uniform, he was also taught to push through pain and avoid appearing vulnerable.
When Jeremy began experiencing rectal bleeding, whether he minimized his symptoms or clinicians failed to probe deeply enough, I don’t know. What I do know is that no one connected the dots early enough. By the time Jeremy was diagnosed with colorectal cancer, it was advanced. He died in 2021 at just 31 years old.
Colorectal cancer is now the leading cause of cancer death in men under 50. Since the mid-1990s, cases have climbed 2% annually among adults aged 20 to 39. While researchers point to sedentary lifestyles and processed foods, I suspect genetics may be part of this picture. Lynch syndrome affects about one in 300 Americans, increasing colorectal cancer risk up to 80%. And, it doesn’t just raise colorectal cancer risk; it’s associated with cancers of the uterus, ovaries, stomach, and even the central nervous system. Since most people have never heard of it, they certainly aren’t aware that they may have it.
Only after Jeremy became critically ill did we learn that he had Lynch syndrome. This meant that either my wife or I had it as well. After we were both tested, my results came back positive.
In hindsight, the warning signs were there. My mother died of cancer at 61. My grandmother and two aunts also died young, all from ovarian cancer. My brother passed at 50 from what doctors thought was Parkinson’s, but which I now believe was Lynch syndrome attacking his central nervous system.
No one ever suggested our family get genetically tested. And, like many families, we never sat down to examine the pattern. We mourned each loss in isolation instead of asking whether something genetic was at play. Lynch syndrome, I’ve since learned, can manifest in ways that look nothing like cancer. Had anyone in our family been tested, that pattern might have been caught. That silence was costly.
Women tend to be proactive about their health but, too often, men are not. In law enforcement especially, there’s a culture of stoicism: “man up,” don’t complain, don’t show weakness. I’ve watched colleagues suffer in silence. I’ve seen how that bravado discourages men from asking for help, whether for mental health or physical symptoms.
I am an outlier of sorts. I regularly participate in hereditary cancer webinars and conferences, but often, I am the only man in the room. And, personally, I am very comfortable challenging doctors. But many men don’t push back, ask hard questions, or demand genetic testing in the exam room. Cultural expectations of toughness are allowing men to fall through the cracks.
Strength isn’t ignoring pain. It’s getting tested, advocating for yourself, and doing everything you can to protect your family.
If you have a family history of cancer, talk about it. Don’t treat it as a one-off. Connect the dots. Genetic testing can identify conditions like Lynch syndrome long before cancer develops. If something feels wrong in your body, don’t minimize it. Persistent symptoms deserve investigation. Men need to stop waiting until a crisis gives them permission to care about their health.
Doctors have a role to play too. I tell clinicians to treat every patient as if they were your own child. Don’t just check boxes. Ask the uncomfortable questions. Be thorough, especially with young men who may be reluctant to volunteer details. The rise in colorectal cancer among younger adults demands a more aggressive approach to screening and genetic evaluation.
Since Jeremy’s death, I’ve become an advocate and a speaker. I work closely with organizations like FORCE (Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered) and have created my own nonprofit to spread awareness about Lynch syndrome. And I live every day with the knowledge that I passed this gene to my son without knowing it. That is a weight no parent should carry. But I also live with purpose: to make sure other families don’t suffer the same fate because of silence, stigma, or delayed care.
I want people, especially men, to act. Talk to your families. Get tested. Advocate for yourself in exam rooms. Because toughness didn’t save my son. But speaking up and getting genetically tested might save yours.
About the Author
Junius Nottingham Jr. is the founder and CEO of the nonprofit J-NOTT-GTT and host of the But God podcast, both created to honor his son Jeremy. A retired federal law enforcement officer, he now dedicates his time to volunteering and spreading awareness about Lynch syndrome.
