I knew there was something wrong with the swelling in my throat.
But he still spent 2 1/2 months in 2007 and spent a lot of time with an ear, nose and throat specialist (ENT) to convince me to look deeper and deeper into my symptoms. I was convinced that even my father was hypochondriac.
Finally, ENT examined the endoscope and found a finger-like growth on the back of my throat. The next morning after the biopsy, I heard the terrible news: It was cancer. I was examined by an otolaryngologist, an ear, nose and throat specialist, and some areas of the head and neck. Left tonsil squamous cell carcinoma.
I did not know anything at the time of the investigation Head and neck cancer. I was 12 years old and most of the people who had the same diagnosis without a family history of the disease.
For seven weeks after surgery, I began direct radiation therapy, and I no longer had any symptoms of cancer.
It was still coming, and even though my radiation therapy was behind me, the New Year brought good news that my father had colon cancer. I went from being sick to being a nurse. He died 18 months later, but the cancer battle continued.
To be forgiven, I had to be free of cancer for five years. Linn In 2011, during a routine dental operation, my oral surgeon noticed a suspicious lump on the back of my throat. He sent me to a specialist otolaryngologist to confirm that the cancer had returned, and this time on the left side of my tongue. The burn was found to be radiation, but the otolaryngologist was diagnosed with recurrent cancer.
Surgeons removed a small portion of the left side of my tongue, which caused me a little confusion. Everything was taken into account, but I managed it well. I was still eating most of the time, and I had to think more about how to chew and swallow.
At the end of the 12 months, I was still free of cancer. Then came 13 months: Cancer is the basis of the rest of my tongue and most of it is back. In 2013, I undertook a procedure in which the muscles and nerves in my left hand came together to build a new tongue.
I underwent surgery on a feeding tube and a port that allowed me to undergo chemotherapy and other seven-week radiation therapy. My chemotherapy days were tiring. I started at 7:00 am and ended at 7:00 pm; I left the discharge center and ran to the floor below for radiation treatment. Linn On April 16, 2013, I proudly rang the bell that indicated my final chemotherapy.
Shortly after my return from the cancer visit, my doctor told me that there were very few treatment options available.
It was important for me to do the big five years now. (Every time cancer returns, the clock is ticking again.) Otherwise, doctors tell me it will not be more than 50 years. Even so, I do not think that I will ever die or that there will ever be an end to it. Instead of focusing on it, I continued my normal routine, including raising a herd of neglected chickens.
Eating was a big obstacle for me. After the second tongue operation, all my food came from the esophagus. On the one hand, it was great to water or mix different nutrients and just shoot in my tube, but I was saddened by my eating habits.
While my feeding tube was on, I was preparing to swallow smoothies, smoked milk, and finally soups. After about four months, I felt ready to eat without my tube, and I approached my medical team for removal. They were worried that it would be months before they were hired, but I promised to return if I could not manage.
After I took the tube off, I changed the traditional soup recipes into a drink and waited for about a year until I had a stronger meal.
Until 2016 I was doing well until 2016 when I noticed that some of my teeth felt loose. He suggested that I return to the otolaryngologist, and I went to the dentist. As a result of my previous radiation treatment, I consulted with the chief surgeon, who determined that my left jaw bone was unhealthy. The fiber on my right leg had to be removed and replaced. That surgery made my disability more visible, and my self-esteem led me to take a nostril.
Fortunately, a year later, I heard the doctors say, “I never thought I would.
While I was at forgiveness, I began to think about what it means to have a better life. I was originally from the West Coast, but I moved to Georgia in the early 1980’s. I always longed for the ocean and decided to return to it. I decided to go hunting in the Gulf.
On the weekends I walked with the real estate agent to the beach where I prayed to God and my father on Sunday and Sunday. With tears streaming down my face, I walked for several miles and asked for a sign. As I said Amen, the water rushed around my legs and it looked like a rock when I looked down.
I flew back to Georgia, sold most of my possessions, loaded my dogs and continued on my way. Linn In May 2019, I began living in a small beach house near the Yellow Lab, south of the ocean where I live today. I am now 55 years old, and I am retired. Oz and I were seen walking out on the beach most of the day.
Here is my best advice for anyone with head and neck cancer: Be your own lawyer. No one knows your body better than you do. If something goes wrong, keep up the pressure until your healthcare providers sit down and notice. And after your battle is over, look for your own rock. No matter how scary it is, do not be afraid to start. You may not have lived before cancer, but you can’t stop now! Go live your best life.
This wealth was created with the support of Mercury.