The Washington Post

Hoping to find other patients, he revealed a cancer often mistaken for ‘jock itch’

Hoping to find other patients, he revealed a cancer often mistaken for ‘jock itch’

Stephen Schroeder figured he had little to lose, his growing sense of desperation fueled by the loneliness of his unusual diagnosis.

For more than two years, Schroeder had been coping with an extremely rare, invasive cancer called extramammary Paget’s disease (EMPD), which had invaded his scrotum, requiring multiple surgeries. Women account for roughly half of EMPD cases; the cancer, often misdiagnosed as eczema or contact dermatitis, attacks the sweat-producing apocrine glands, including those in the genital and anal areas.

The slow-growing cancer, which in men is frequently misdiagnosed as “jock itch” — slang for a fungal infection — can be fatal. And while treatment is often grueling, for Schroeder the worst part was his sense of isolation: He had never spoken to anyone who shared his diagnosis.

But in time Schroeder would engineer a solution to his isolation, reaping its benefits by connecting with others in similar circumstances. The richness of that experience, he said, has exceeded anything he could have imagined.

Doctors thought he just had jock itch. Then it spread.

Doctors thought he just had jock itch. Then it spread.

Late Friday afternoon on Dec. 4, 2014, Stephen Schroeder was waiting to board his packed flight from Philadelphia to Las Vegas for a much anticipated long weekend with his son when his cellphone rang. On the line was an unexpected caller: his doctor, reporting test results sooner than Schroeder had expected.

Listening intently, Schroeder was flooded with disbelief as he struggled to comprehend what he was hearing. Using the lip of a trash can as a writing surface, he scribbled notes on the back of his boarding pass, making the doctor spell out each unfamiliar word. Then he sent a terse text to his wife, who was at their home in the Philadelphia suburbs, and got on the plane.

Onboard, Schroeder, then 55, fired up the balky in-flight Internet, desperate for information.

What he read over the next five hours left him alternately terrified, stunned and then, as denial took over, skeptical. “I kept thinking this must be some kind of really stupid mistake,” he recalled. “The diagnosis had to be wrong.”