As a newbie to the whole oral cancer thing, I've had nothin' but learning experiences since my diagnosis in September.

Three things I've learned this week alone are:

1. Just because your newly revised obturator fits better than the old one doesn't mean that you won't:

a. Drip saliva out of your nostrils during prayers at church (wups)

b. Sneeze an entire ramen noodle halfway out of your schnozz during lunch (thank Frog there was nobody but me around to see that happen)

c. Have the dadratted thing suddenly slip out of place and have your "s"es turn into "sh"es, thus giving the person on the end of the phone the conviction that you've suddenly gotten very, very drunk.

2. People who say things like, "You look *great*! What's your diet?" are not generally impressed when you tell them, "Oh, gee, thanks. It's the cancer."

3. Those who wish to define you primarily as Brave, A Fighter, Awesome, Incredible, and So Inspiring may be surprised by the strength of your right hook when you're having a down day. Luckily, your friends will not be, and will joke about same while posting your bail.

It's been....an adjustment. This was my first full week being able to wear the obturator (without speech bulb) all day on top of healing tissue. The best reaction I got to all of the awful, depressing things that happened this week--and there were a few, mostly related to my dealing with body image and my functional status--was from a guy at the gas station where I normally fill up.

I'd told the folks there about the diagnosis and had warned them that I wouldn't be in for a couple of weeks, then went back. The dude at the counter asked how things were going, and I said, well, you know, not too bad, except that I snorted half of an entire Ramen noodle out of my left nostril at lunch today.

He stopped dead. He stared at me for a minute. His eyes grew wide. And then, at the same time, he and I both said:

"PARTY TRICK!!!"

Oh, and one other really great reaction: a buddy of mine told me he couldn't wait until my "mouthparts" were better so we could chat on the phone. I told him that his saying that made me feel like the enormous, praying-mantis-like Queen of an invading alien army.

"I'll bet," was his return in chat, "that no man has ever made you feel like *that* before."

Hi Johanne,
Just read this and some of your previous post's.
Despite what you are going through you seem to have a great attitude and sense of humour.
If you have not found it yet you may like to look at the thread Coping / Anger and Fear � Don't you just hate it when...?
Some of this would fit right in there.
My "s"es also sound more like the "sh"es especially when I am tired and on the phone.
I know people have wondered if I have had a little tipple or a big slug from the bottle if it comes to that
Best wishes for continued healing.
Gabriele

Love your post!! Love your attitude!!

Hiya, Gabe! Oh, I've already looked at the "Don't you hate it when..." thread. My pal Lara (30 yo with invasive ductal carcinoma R breast) and I call a lot of those faces that people mention things like the "Sad Face" or the "OISHB Face" (oh, isn't she brave!).

Honestly? I work in a neurocritical care unit at a hospital in Dallas that does almost nothing but head-and-neck and neurological/neurosurgical care. My worst day out of bed is better than my best patient's best day in the bed. If I don't have a sense of humor about this, I'm doing God a disservice by wasting His gift to me.

It sucks, yes, and I'm planning to ask for advice on some of the suckier parts later. But mostly? At least 60% of the time? I'm very conscious of how easy I got off. My signature line would be six words, not three lines. That's lucky.

And your signature just proves your great attitude..good for you.
At least you got the L in there for Low so you didn't end up with just PGA.
Mine was also described as Low-Grade which did not make me feel any better in the early days.
Like - why have I had this disfiguring surgery, impaired speech, a big shark bite in my wrist etc etc
Time does help and I am over worrying about most of it now or just put it in the "not so important" category as I am alive and doing OK

Mine was also described as Low-Grade which did not make me feel any better in the early days.
Like - why have I had this disfiguring surgery, impaired speech, a big shark bite in my wrist etc etc
Time does help and I am over worrying about most of it now or just put it in the "not so important" category as I am alive and doing OK

I hear you, my friend. I've spent a lot of time since early September wondering why the hell it had to be my *speech* that I lost, rather than a body part that wasn't such a big part of who I am.

I do a lot of teaching at work, both with patients and new nurses/nursing students, and that's my favorite part of the job. It's what I'm best at. Before I was a nurse, I was a singer, and did voice-overs for commercials and voice-mail systems and the like. Losing the ability to speak clearly has done a number on me psychologically that I'm only just beginning to recognize.

Maybe that's why my posts are so long, eh?

As to the disfigurement of a radical neck or tissue transplant...I can't speak (hah!) to that. My "defect" (doesn't Medicine come up with the best terms?) is all internal, so nobody stares or notices that my neck is one-sided.

It's funny, isn't it, how "bearable" and "not a big deal" change when you're faced with diagnosis, and then treatment, and then recovery?

Maybe someday I'll get to the point where the fact that I'm alive and doing OK--and that's huge right now, don't get me wrong--outweighs what I feel like I've lost.