Every November, moustaches turn up on faces that have no business growing them. It can be a good laugh, and an easy way to strike up a conversation. What sits behind the Mo is a harder discussion about men’s health, and about a few things in particular that hit men in Aotearoa hard: mental health, suicide, and prostate and testicular cancer.

None of what follows is medical advice, and it is not a telling off. It is an honest look at why so many of us leave things far too long, where the habit comes from, and what makes reaching out feel less daunting. If you have been sitting on something yourself, or you know a bloke who has, read on.

The numbers on New Zealand men

Men here live about three and a half years less than women, on average. Some of that is biology. A lot of it is not, because plenty of what shortens men’s lives can be treated or prevented.

Take prostate cancer, now the most commonly diagnosed cancer in New Zealand men. Somewhere north of 4,000 men are diagnosed each year and around 700 die. About one in eight men will get it at some stage. What makes it dangerous is how little it announces itself. The Prostate Cancer Foundation reports that most men had no symptoms at all when they were diagnosed. Feeling fine tells you next to nothing. The outcomes are uneven too, with Māori men more likely to die once diagnosed, often because it is caught later.

The figure that stops you cold is the suicide one. In the year to June 2025, 630 people in Aotearoa died by suspected suicide. Of those, 474 were men, close to three in every four. The male rate sits at nearly three times the female rate, and Māori are hit hardest of all. Every one of those numbers is a person somebody is still grieving.

There is another pattern tucked away in the routine health data. Fewer people are seeing their GP than used to. The most recent New Zealand Health Survey put it at about 73 percent of adults in the past year, down from 78 percent five years earlier. When people were asked why they had stayed away, cost featured, as you would expect. But men were actually less likely than women to blame cost. So for a fair few blokes, the thing keeping them out of the waiting room is not the bill.

The “she’ll be right” problem

Most Kiwi men will know exactly what this is. Call it the “I’ll be alright” reflex, or “she’ll be right”, or “it’s probably nothing”. It is the voice that talks you out of the appointment the moment a symptom shows up or your mood starts sliding.

We have known about it for a long time. Men’s Health Week campaigns have said the same thing year after year: blokes tend to tough it out, they hate making a fuss, and a good number still treat asking for help as some kind of admission of weakness. Funnily enough, the same man will happily nag a mate to get a lump looked at. Turning that advice on himself is where it falls over.

The problem with “she’ll be right” is that it holds up, until it does not. A lot of the serious stuff gives you barely any warning. Prostate and testicular cancer usually stays silent early on. Mental strain rarely arrives as one dramatic crisis; it builds week on week until the load is simply too heavy to carry. By the time something is impossible to ignore, the easy window for dealing with it has often gone.

It is not about blaming men for a character flaw. But the habit is worth a second look, because in this country it costs men dearly.

Where the pressure comes from

That instinct to grit your teeth did not appear from nowhere. Men grow up soaking in a fairly narrow brief: provide for your people, hold it together, stay strong so others can lean on you, and put yourself at the back of the queue. Nobody hands you the rulebook. You absorb it, from your old man, your coaches, your mates, and a hundred small moments where letting on that you were struggling looked like it might cost you.

Plenty of that is worth keeping. Wanting to provide for your whānau or those around you and carry your share, shows real mana. The trouble is what falls out the bottom. When your worth is pinned to being strong and useful, owning up that you are not coping can feel like failing at the one thing you are meant to have handled. So you keep your mouth shut, keep fronting up, and the load gets heavier out of anyone’s sight.

The part most men never quite believe is that looking after your own hauora is what keeps you able to show up for the people counting on you. Getting a symptom checked, or having a straight talk when your head is a mess, protects the very people you are trying to be strong for. And if it helps, know that nearly every bloke around you is running the same “she’ll be right” script in his own head. You are not the odd one out.

Why telehealth lowers the barrier

A lot of the reasons men give for skipping the doctor have very little to do with health. They are about hassle and awkwardness. Booking weeks ahead. Taking time off. Parking. Sitting in a waiting room where you might get spotted by someone you know. Explaining yourself to a receptionist. For a man on the tools, on a farm, behind the wheel of a truck, or working shifts, a mid morning slot across town is a genuine headache.

Telehealth strips most of that away. No waiting room, no half a day lost to the trip, and you can talk from wherever you already are. The ute at smoko works fine. So does the couch once the kids have gone down. For a lot of men, that smaller hurdle is the whole difference between getting on with it and letting it slide.

That is how our clinic runs. We are a telehealth service, so people talk to us on their own turf, at a time that suits. And if talking to a doctor still feels like a big first step, you can start with a free call with one of our nurses instead. It is private, confidential, and there is no face to face barrier or waiting room moment. No pressure and no obligation, just a chance to ask your questions and find out where you stand. One thing to be straight about, though: our doctors are here to talk with you about whether medicinal cannabis might suit your situation. We are not your GP and we are not a replacement for one. Prostate checks, general health worries, getting a lump looked at, sorting out your other medicines, all of that belongs with your own GP or the right specialist. We are one door, not the whole house. 

What men ask once they finally book

The most revealing part of this work is what men come out with once they have made the call. Names and details stay private, but a handful of themes come up again and again, and they tell you exactly what had been in the way.

The first, more often than you would guess, is a version of “am I even allowed to ask about this?” A man will have chewed it over privately for months without knowing whether it is a fair thing to raise with a doctor. Hearing that yes, it is a perfectly normal question, visibly loosens something.

Right behind it: “can I still work and drive?” That one comes from a decent place. These are men whose sense of themselves runs through being dependable, on the job and on the road, and they want to stay that way. 

Then comes the privacy worry, “will work find out, will my family”. A lot of men also fret about what their GP will think, as though they are going behind someone’s back. For the record, looping your GP in is exactly right but this is your decision. Care works best when everyone is talking to each other, but on your terms.

Finally, “what’s next?”. Our doctors will talk it through with you and be straight about whether medicinal cannabis is worth considering for your situation. If it is not the right fit, they will say so and point you back to your GP or specialist. Either way, you come off the call knowing where you stand.

Is cannabis doing its job?

If you are already using cannabis, whether it is something a doctor has prescribed or something you have been getting yourself, it pays to stop every so often and ask an honest question: is it actually doing its job? Are your symptoms better than they were? Are you sleeping, moving, working, and getting on with the people around you the way you want to? Or have things quietly drifted and you have not clocked it? Be as straight with yourself here as you would want a mate to be with you.

If the answer is a clear yes, good. If it is a “sort of”, a “not really anymore”, or there is something that does not quite sit right, that is worth a conversation rather than a shrug. This is exactly the sort of thing the “she’ll be right” reflex talks you out of raising. For some men it comes down to the dose, the formulation, or the timing not being quite right. For others, it is about stepping back and reviewing whether the medicine is still pulling its weight. And if you have been sourcing it yourself, there is a real case for a legal, monitored pathway instead, where a doctor knows exactly what you are taking and can help you weigh it up.

Whatever the picture, the move is the same: raise it rather than sit on it. If it is medicinal cannabis you want to talk through, that is what our doctors are here for.

A few things worth doing this Movember

You do not need to reinvent yourself. Pick one.

Make the appointment you have been dodging or putting off. 

Get across your prostate risk. If you are over 50, or over 40 with a dad or brother who has had prostate cancer, or you are Māori, ask your GP whether a PSA blood test makes sense for you. There are trade offs worth talking through, which is the whole reason it is a chat rather than a rule. Waiting for symptoms is no help, since early on there usually are not any.

Check in on a mate, and ask a second time. “You alright?” almost always gets a reflex “yeah, good”. Asking again, a bit more gently, gives him room to be straight with you. The exact words matter less than being the person who noticed.

And catch yourself saying “she’ll be right”. When you hear it, stop for a second and work out whether it is actually true or just the old script talking.

Where to get help

If there is one thing to take from all this, the first move is the hard part. It gets easier after that.

Your GP is the place to start for prostate checks, physical symptoms, and getting pointed toward the right mental health support. If you are not signed up with one, now is a good time to enrol.

When your head is in a bad place, do not wait for a full blown crisis. You can free call or text 1737 any time and talk to a trained counsellor. Lifeline is on 0800 543 354, or text 4357 (HELP). If you or someone else is in danger right now, ring 111. For anything prostate related, the Prostate Cancer Foundation of New Zealand is a good first stop.

Movember gives you a reason to start the conversation. The moustache is up to you. Looking after your own hauora, and nudging the men around you to do the same, matters a good deal more than the top lip. Look after yourselves, and look after each other.

Ngā mihi.

References and sources

• Suicide data and statistics. (2026, October 1). Health New Zealand | Te Whatu Ora. https://www.tewhatuora.govt.nz/for-health-professionals/data-and-statistics/suicide/data-web-tool
• Cancer web tool. (2026, October 5). Health New Zealand | Te Whatu Ora. https://www.tewhatuora.govt.nz/for-health-professionals/data-and-statistics/cancer/data-web-tool
• Prostate cancer. (2026, August 3). Healthify. https://healthify.nz/health-a-z/p/prostate-cancer
• Prostate Cancer Foundation NZ. About prostate cancer. https://prostate.org.nz/prostate-cancer
• Ministry of Health – Manatū Hauora. (2023, December 14). Annual update of key results 2022/23: New Zealand Health Survey. https://www.health.govt.nz/publications/annual-update-of-key-results-202223-new-zealand-health-survey
• NZ Suicide Statistics | Mental Health Foundation. (n.d.). Mental Health Foundation. https://mentalhealth.org.nz/suicide-prevention/statistics-on-suicide-in-new-zealand
• Movember. Movember – Changing the face of Men’s Health | Movember. Movember. https://movember.com/
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