My Cancer Battle

This is not an article I ever imagined writing. In December of 2024, I was diagnosed with oral squamous cell carcinoma, cancer of the tongue. My wife and I had just gotten married a little less than a year after we first met. In August, shortly before a surprise trip I’d planned, I woke up with pain in my mouth. It appeared to be an ulcer on the side of my tongue. I went to the dentist, who thought it was an ulceration from biting my tongue, and he had me try a rinse for a few weeks. It seemed like the pain lessened, but never went away.

When the ulcer appeared in August, I immediately suspected cancer, but the dentist didn’t think much of it, which assuaged any concerns. Then, I took a trip to an oral surgeon, who also did not believe it was cancer, and asked me to try a different rinse. Some time passed after that and we decided it needed to be biopsied as the pain was not going away and it appeared to be changing constantly.

As it was being biopsied, I was screaming in pain, even after three lidocaine shots. The oral surgeon insisted it was not oral cancer even after he completed the biopsy and told me that he probably wouldn’t need to see me. Along my cancer journey, I learned that this is common among patients with oral cancer and no risk factors, especially young patients. We are told we are not at risk, and our care is pushed off and ignored, despite the rising rate of cancers, especially oral tongue cancer, among young patients with no risk factors.

At the gym a few days later, I got a call from the oral surgeon’s office asking to see me. I knew I had cancer. Later that night, the biopsy results were published and it confirmed our worst fears. I plotted the stairs up to our bedroom and told my wife. She broke down in tears as did I. We had planned a whole life together. I cried and told her that I was sorry to be leaving her so soon and that I didn’t want to die.

We got doctor's appointments organized and had a plan to have a surgery on my tongue to remove a third of it, along with the floor of my mouth, and replace it with grafted skin from my left arm. I would also be getting lymph nodes removed from the same side as the tumor was on to confirm no cancer there. The cancer was removed, and the recovery in the hospital was torture, between the pain killers and the feeding tube down my nose. I was not permitted to speak and couldn’t eat. Every minute felt like an eternity.

Mentally, I felt like a prisoner in my own body, and weaning off of the fentanyl, I truly thought I wasn’t going to survive the ordeal with my withdrawal symptoms. I also experienced severe depression in the hospital. Thankfully, my wife was always there to talk sense into me and remind me what I had to fight for.

After departing the hospital, we had to await the official pathology, whether the margins were clean of cancer, and whether I would need radiation. We were hoping for no radiation and that this horrific ordeal would be the end. Our wishes did not come true, and the doctor recommended 6 weeks of radiation treatments to the mouth and neck. I was completely gutted. I wondered if I had gone with my gut and demanded the biopsy sooner, if the radiation could have been avoided.

I got hit by every side effect, the worst of which was choking on thick mucus throughout the day and in my sleep for about a week. I also had thrush twice. Some days, I could eat nothing due to the pain. I almost got off that radiation table many times, traumatized by being held down by the radiation mask. I made it through it all, thanks to the blessing of having my wife by my side, our marriage kicking off with a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy.

My cancer has left me both physically and mentally scarred. Physically, I have to deal with a lisp and pain while eating. I can’t stick my tongue out very far from my mouth. I have a scar that I can barely look at on my arm from where they used a skin graft to rebuild my tongue. My neck is constantly stiff from the neck dissection to remove 23 lymph nodes and a subsequent infectious abscess that hospitalized me. But I think the mental part often gets lost.

People see a person finish cancer treatment and think things can go back to normal. But, I am traumatized from everything we’ve gone through and will continue to worry and live with the idea that this may not be over for us.

At this moment, I am cancer-free but I know the risks of recurrence and I see constant stories about people having multiple recurrences and further surgeries. For this, we turn to God, and we pray not just for myself, but for those fighting cancer and those who have lost the battle. A cancer death has a much more profound impact on me now when I hear of it, and I feel a very special bond with those suffering from the same cancer I suffered from. It could be any of us who has to face these circumstances at any time.

There is also a weird part of this experience, where cancer has changed me profoundly in a positive way. Where I used to be bothered by getting caught in the rain or traffic, now I just smile and thank God that I’m alive to be stuck in either. The weight of other things in my life has decreased. I saw the kindness of many who supported us by donating their time and money to help us get through our decreased income.

Friends that I didn’t expect showed up for us, whether it be groceries, food delivery, or even cleaning our house, because we suddenly lacked the time and energy to. Friends stayed at our house to drive me to appointments and keep me company. The outpouring of kindness from friends, family, and neighbors was truly astonishing. I often cried thinking about it.

Despite the dark clouds that I feel around me, there is hope. My wife and I are getting back into our routines, back to building our life together. We won’t let cancer stop us from having faith, joy, and a family. We have all been touched by cancer in some way, whether it be a friend, family, or our own body.

Cancer is a horrible disease, and I may never physically feel the same, but what it gave me, the ability to shift my perspective to try to find the bright spots in all of the darkness, I will use as my superpower. And please, if you feel something is wrong, be your own biggest advocate because catching any cancer early is your best chance to beat it.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.