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By Sym Posey | The Birmingham Times
Roy S. Johnson has spent nearly five decades asking other people to tell the truth.
As a journalist, he has built a career around telling stories — from the biggest names in professional sports to the people whose lives and experiences rarely make headlines. The Tulsa, Oklahoma native has interviewed athletes, executives and celebrities, covered some of the country’s biggest sporting events and written about the issues he believes matter. He’s worked for Sports Illustrated, Men’s Fitness and the New York Times. He worked with Vanguard Media and helped launch Savoy magazine.
But in the summer of 2025, Johnson found himself facing a story he never expected to write about himself: cancer.
“I mean, no one likes to hear the word cancer and their name in the same sentence,” Johnson said.
For Johnson, however, the diagnosis did not become a reason to retreat from the public eye. Instead, it became another story he felt compelled to tell.
During Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, Johnson’s story is one about early detection, family, faith and the decision to live intentionally while refusing to allow a diagnosis to dictate the terms of his life.
He calls himself a “cancer thriver.”
“I may still have it in my body, but I’m not going to let it drive my life,” Johnson said.
That distinction — between surviving and thriving — has become central to how Johnson approaches his diagnosis.
A Family History He Didn’t Know
Johnson’s prostate cancer diagnosis was not completely unexpected. What surprised him was learning just how close prostate cancer had already been to his family.
His father died when Johnson was 11. His mother died years later. But as a child, Johnson did not know what had caused his father’s death.
“Back then, they didn’t tell kids what was wrong with adults, let alone what the cause of death was,” he said.
Johnson’s brother told him he had always thought their father died of lung cancer.
But decades later, as an adult, Johnson discovered his father’s death certificate.The cause of death was prostate cancer.
The revelation gave Johnson’s own health screenings a new significance. Fortunately, he had already developed a habit of seeing his doctor regularly for annual checkups.
For years, his prostate screenings came back within the normal range for his age. Johnson remembers undergoing the digital rectal exam that was once a routine part of prostate screening and later having the PSA blood test become part of his annual checkups. The PSA test measures prostate-specific antigen in the blood and can indicate that further testing may be necessary.
Johnson’s levels remained normal for years. Then, in 2025, his doctor told him his PSA level had spiked. The next step was a biopsy. And then came one of the most difficult parts of the process: Waiting.
Johnson and his wife were in New Orleans for the Essence Festival when the call came. His wife was there for an event she was hosting, and Johnson had been waiting for the doctor’s call. Then he heard the word that changes everything: “Unfortunately.”
Johnson said his mind went in a hundred directions. Fortunately, he had two phones. One was plugged into a charger. He recorded the call.
While his mind was racing, he knew he could later return to the recording and listen to the doctor’s words again. At that moment, though, Johnson was numb.
He was also determined not to tell his wife immediately. She was in the middle of an event, and he did not want his diagnosis to distract her from something she had worked to organize.
So he kept it to himself. They finished the event. They met some of the people she had been working with for drinks. And Johnson waited. He eventually told her after they returned to their Airbnb.
“I almost died that night because she was going to kill me for not telling her,” Johnson said with a laugh.
Behind the humor, however, was the reality of what he was processing. He knew he had to tell his wife. Then his children. Then his broader family. And before making decisions about treatment, he had to understand what he was facing.
Roy S. Johnson wants men to understand that an early prostate cancer diagnosis is not automatically a death sentence. The key, he says, is detection. (Reginald Allen, For The Birmingham Times)The Diagnosis
Johnson’s biopsy revealed cancer in six of 12 samples taken from his prostate. Three samples were classified as stage one and three as stage two. Doctors use the highest classification when determining the overall diagnosis, so Johnson was diagnosed with stage two prostate cancer.
The diagnosis came with another realization: His brother had also been diagnosed with prostate cancer. His brother’s diagnosis came about a year after Johnson’s and followed a similar path of regular blood testing and a biopsy.
Now, the brothers are navigating prostate cancer at the same time, although they approach the experience differently. Johnson’s brother is more private.
He is currently undergoing radiation treatment, with daily appointments five days a week for roughly five and a half to six weeks.
Johnson does not pressure his brother to talk. Instead, he sends text messages. He prays for him. At 8:45 each morning, when his brother has to report for radiation, Johnson makes a point of praying for him.
His brother’s wife also keeps Johnson updated. It is another reminder that cancer is not always an individual journey. Families carry it together.
Choosing to Wait
After his diagnosis, Johnson and his wife met with his medical team to discuss treatment options. There were several. One option was surgery to remove the prostate.
Another was radiation. There were additional treatments as well. And then there was active surveillance.
Essentially, active surveillance meant not immediately treating the cancer but instead monitoring it closely through regular testing. Johnson’s initial reaction was straightforward.
“No. We’re gonna get this cancer out of my body,” he recalled thinking.
But one of his physicians, Dr. Michael Bivins, head of Urology Centers of Alabama, offered a different perspective.
If Johnson were his patient, Bivins said, he would recommend active surveillance.
That recommendation forced Johnson to reconsider his initial instinct.
His doctors explained that prostate cancer can be slow-moving and that there was not necessarily an immediate need to make a rushed decision.
If he chose surveillance, he could continue monitoring his PSA levels and pursue another treatment option later if necessary. Johnson began to weigh the possibilities.
He prayed. And then he remembered a scripture he had worn around his neck for years: Isaiah 40:31 – “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.”
For Johnson, the verse took on a new meaning.
“You can’t wear it if you don’t walk it,” he said. He decided to wait. His wife was not initially convinced. But as they talked through the reasoning and the options, she supported his decision.
Johnson began active surveillance in August 2025. He had PSA testing in February and again in August 2026. So far, he said, his PSA levels have not spiked. His doctor told him to return in six months.
Waiting, however, does not mean ignoring the diagnosis. Johnson emphasizes that active surveillance is not passive. He continues to monitor his health. He exercises.
He tries to eat well. He avoids many fried foods and does not drink soda.
He began drinking pomegranate juice and taking prostate-related supplements after receiving recommendations from others. But the most important part of his regimen is one he cannot measure in a laboratory: Faith.
“Let go and let God,” Johnson said.
Faith as a Treatment Strategy
Johnson’s faith has always been part of his life, but cancer has deepened the way he understands it. In addition to Isaiah 40:31, he frequently returns to 2 Chronicles 20:9 and the reminder that God’s grace is sufficient and that His power is made perfect in weakness.
Johnson does not pretend that cancer is easy. He acknowledges the fear. The temptation to allow his mind to go to the worst possible outcome. He understands why someone receiving a cancer diagnosis might immediately begin thinking about death or planning a funeral.
But he also wants men to understand that an early prostate cancer diagnosis is not automatically a death sentence. The key, he says, is detection.
That is why Johnson is so passionate about testing. His own experience has convinced him that knowledge is power. He wants men — particularly Black men — to become more comfortable discussing prostate health and getting screened.
“I’m encouraging all men to get tested,” he said. “All men over 40. Just get tested.”
His advocacy has moved beyond personal conversations. After Johnson publicly disclosed his diagnosis through his writing, people began reaching out. The response stunned him. Phone calls. Text messages. Emails. Messages from men who had experienced prostate cancer themselves. Messages from people whose fathers or brothers had been diagnosed. Messages from men who had never considered getting tested until they read Johnson’s story.
Some told him his openness gave them permission to talk about their own experiences.
Johnson began connecting men with physicians through his professional network and using his platforms to bring experts into conversations about prostate cancer. Then something happened that he could not have predicted.
His writing helped fuel advocacy for legislation in Alabama aimed at making prostate cancer screenings free for high-risk men and African American men. Johnson’s name was attached to the legislation alongside David McAlainy’s.
For a journalist who had spent years telling other people’s stories, it was an unexpected realization: His own story could create change.
“Never, ever in a million years would I have thought that my writing would lead to a new law being passed,” Johnson said.
Especially not in Alabama.
Cancer Doesn’t Have a Political Party
Johnson is known for his political opinions, something he acknowledges openly.
His columns have a particular perspective. But cancer has a way of stripping away those divisions.
“Cancer does not have a political party,” he said. “It does not have an ideology.”
It does not care whether someone lives in a city, suburb or rural community. And Johnson experienced that firsthand after sharing his diagnosis.
Some people who contacted him told him they did not agree with him politically. Some admitted they did not always like what he wrote. But they were praying for him.
That, Johnson said, was one of the most powerful parts of the experience. The diagnosis created connections where disagreement might otherwise have created distance. And it reinforced something Johnson had learned through journalism: People are often more complicated than the labels assigned to them.
The Courage to Tell the Story
There was never really a question about whether Johnson would share his diagnosis. As a journalist, he has spent decades asking people to become vulnerable. He has asked people to tell him about their hardest moments, their failures, their losses and their struggles. How could he ask others to do that while refusing to do the same?
“There was never a moment when I was not going to share my story,” Johnson said.
Writing became part of his therapy. He began documenting his journey in what became his “Cancer Chronicles” columns. The series had not been part of some carefully constructed plan. It simply happened. Johnson wrote. People responded. And then he wrote some more.
His story became a resource for people who needed information and encouragement. He heard from men who had been diagnosed but had not told their families. He heard from people who were afraid. He heard from men who had never considered getting screened.
And that is perhaps one of the most important reasons Johnson continues to talk about his diagnosis.
Silence can be isolating. He wants men to understand that they do not have to carry cancer alone.
“God has placed people around you for a reason,” Johnson said.
If a man refuses to tell the people who love him what he is facing, Johnson said, he prevents them from becoming part of his support system. He prevents them from praying for him. From encouraging him. From loving him through the difficult moments For Johnson, vulnerability is not weakness. It is an invitation to community.
In the summer of 2025, journalist Roy S. Johnson was diagnosed with prostate cancer. (Reginald Allen, For The Birmingham Times)A Brother, a Father and a Warning
The fact that Johnson’s father died from prostate cancer and that his brother is now undergoing treatment has given his diagnosis an especially personal weight. There is a generational thread running through the family’s experience. But Johnson does not view it as a reason to live in fear. He views it as a reason to live with awareness.
His father did not have the treatment options available today. Johnson’s children may have even more options in the future. Medical treatment has changed. Screening has changed. Awareness has changed. And Johnson wants men to take advantage of those changes.
He encourages men not to wait until they experience symptoms. In the early stages, prostate cancer may not announce itself. Johnson knows that firsthand.
His knees hurt. His back hurts. He has dealt with other aches and injuries. But his prostate never told him anything was wrong. That is precisely why testing matters.
“If you do get a detection, first, just hopefully it’s an early detection,” Johnson said. “And try to accept and embrace the fact that it’s not a death sentence.”
He knows the word “cancer” can cause the mind to leap toward the worst possible outcome immediately. But he wants men to pause. Gather information. Find doctors they trust. Understand their options. And make decisions based on knowledge rather than fear.
Becoming a Cancer Thriver
Johnson’s language matters. He could call himself a cancer survivor. Instead, he chooses “cancer thriver.” The distinction is deliberate.
A survivor looks backward at something that happened. A thriver is still actively living.
Still working. Still writing. Still exercising. Still loving. Still praying. Still planning. Still looking forward.
Johnson refuses to allow cancer to become the most interesting thing about him.
He remains a journalist. A husband. A father. A brother. A friend. A mentor. A Birmingham transplant who once prayed for a warm place and somehow ended up exactly where he believes God wanted him to be.
Cancer is part of his story. It is not the entirety of it And that perspective has allowed Johnson to approach his diagnosis differently.
He calls prostate cancer an “unwanted relative” that showed up and refuses to leave.
It is annoying. It is always there. But it does not get to run the household.
Johnson still has work to do. There are stories to tell. People to encourage.
Men to reach. Legislation to advocate for. And a brother to pray for every morning.
There is also a testimony to live.
“I just want to be a living testimony,” Johnson said.
That may ultimately be the story Johnson is writing now. Not a story about a man waiting for cancer to determine what happens next. But a story about a man who has chosen to keep moving while he waits.
He is waiting on his next PSA test. Waiting on the next chapter. Waiting to see what God has in store. But he is not sitting still.
He is doing his part. He is encouraging men to get tested. He is talking openly about a disease that too many men are uncomfortable discussing. He is helping create access to screenings. He is supporting his brother. He is continuing to write. And he is continuing to live.
For Johnson, faith does not mean ignoring the reality of cancer. It means refusing to let fear have the final word. His message to men is simple: Know your risk. Get tested. Ask questions. Find doctors you trust. Learn your options. Talk to the people who love you.
And then, whatever comes next, keep living.
“Let God do his work,” Johnson said, “while you do yours.”
For a man who has spent his life telling stories, Johnson knows better than most that the ending is not always visible from the beginning.
So, he keeps writing. And for now, he is choosing to thrive.
Follow Roy S. Johnson’s “Cancer Chronicles” and all his work for AL.com at www.al.com/staff/Roysj.
