In 2015, at age 40, I was diagnosed with stage 2 throat cancer, while juggling a full-time job, a marriage and the challenges of raising my son and three stepchildren, all under the age of 13. My husband worked full-time on shifts in emergency services; life was incredibly busy.
Initially, my symptoms were mild – a sore ear and a sensation of having a lump in my throat, accompanied by an occasional cough. This is the tricky part of cancer: it often presents with subtle signs, making it easy to overlook their seriousness.
I consulted my GP about my sore ear, but they found nothing wrong. I was puzzled but continued with life, busy with work and family. As weeks passed, more symptoms emerged: blood in my saliva and discomfort while swallowing. My throat felt like it was inflamed. My GP advised me to undergo blood tests and to return for an exam in another two weeks. Nothing transpired from my second visit. Not giving up, my GP asked that I schedule another consult in two weeks. I returned to the doctor, who noted redness in the back of my throat. He documented the findings and referred me to an ENT specialist.
Overwhelmed by the diagnosis
I approached the ENT appointment without much concern, preoccupied with daily responsibilities. Little did I know that I had been prioritised due to strong suspicions of cancer. During the examination, the doctor, accompanied by a student, used a scope to look at my throat. When he asked why I thought I was there, I genuinely didn’t know. After a pause, he gently informed me that I most likely had throat cancer, but reassured me that it was likely curable.
Confused and overwhelmed, I grappled with the reality of my cancer diagnosis: a disease typically associated with older smokers and drinkers. In that moment, my world shifted dramatically. I was informed that I would need a biopsy to confirm the diagnosis and was scheduled for a CT scan. I underwent a series of pre-treatment tests, including minor surgery for a biopsy of the tumour and the insertion of a feeding tube (PEG) to support me during treatment. I also had a full dental checkup and a baseline hearing test.
The most challenging aspect was coming to terms with the fact that I would need a specially made plastic immobilisation mask for the radiation treatment. This mask would be bolted to the radiation table, securing me beneath it while the staff monitored me from another room via camera and communicated with me through a microphone.
Wearing this mask during radiation was a deeply challenging experience.
On the day of my first radiation appointment, I sat in the waiting room, tears streaming down my face. I realised that to save my life, I had to wear this mask. Anticipating this moment of despair, I had written myself an encouraging note to read when the fear became overwhelming. I knew I would need to push myself and reason with my emotions to navigate through the terror of the situation.
I still have that handwritten note and this is what I wrote to myself:
Be brave
The end result is life
Do it so you can see your kids’ milestones
You are completely safe
You can breathe
Think of a happy place
Be brave
With the support of hospital staff and my family, I managed to overcome my fears and underwent my first radiation treatment.
Lying completely still while listening to my Aerosmith CD helped me keep my anxiety at bay. You might think it would get easier, but for me, it didn’t. I never fully trusted that I could cope, so I approached each session as if it were my first, willing myself not to give up.
My treatment plan also included six weeks of chemotherapy. The chemotherapy involved six rounds of Cisplatin, while the radiation required five sessions a week for the entire six weeks.
By the time treatment began in July, the cancer had spread to a lymph node, resulting in a noticeable lump on my neck. The treatment was gruelling, and I persevered through it, but as I progressed, I found myself feeling increasingly unwell.
It felt as though I had stopped truly living and was merely existing in the hope of one day reclaiming my life – the goal seemed so far away.
After completing treatment in late August, it took a month for me to begin feeling like myself again. For two months during treatment, I was unable to eat solid food and relied on the feeding tube. When I gradually started eating again, my first meal consisted of just two tablespoons of rice, which was challenging to swallow as my throat was still healing.
My new normal
As my health improved, I was thrilled to have the tube removed, and I am now cancer-free. However, I face permanent challenges that those in the head and neck cancer community refer to as our “new normal”. My salivary glands were severely affected, making eating slow and often difficult.
Dry foods are challenging due to insufficient saliva, which complicates swallowing. Spicy foods, even mild ones, can be hard to tolerate, and I always carry water with me to manage my dry mouth. Over time my salivary glands have improved, and I find I am not as thirsty as I once was.
The reality is that it takes years to adjust to this new life and to process the trauma and scars that cancer leaves behind. Healing cannot be rushed; it happens when it’s meant to, and for everyone, the timeline is different. Despite these challenges, I have come to terms with my new reality and am profoundly grateful to be alive.
I was often asked after my cancer journey if it had given me a new lease on life. Initially, my answer was no; I spent years healing. However, now I can confidently say that life is good, and I truly have a new perspective.
A change in career and returning to my art has been incredibly rewarding. Journaling over the years has allowed me to express my fears, anger and pain while also helping me positively plan for my goals and future.
I want to encourage others to be vigilant about their health and seek medical advice if they notice any unusual symptoms. Early detection can save lives.
Nine years on
Following my catastrophic year in 2015, I returned to work full-time just months after finishing treatment, despite battling with my health and low self-esteem. My marriage then collapsed, leaving me feeling alone, angry and upset.
Now a solo mum, I had to navigate this new life. I had my five-year-old son with me every other week, and the time apart felt especially painful. This was not what I had planned for my life. I was mentally and physically drained. I knew I had to turn my life around. I was at my lowest I had ever been. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my identity. Once a bubbly, well-dressed woman, I now wore tracksuit pants to hide my gauntness. While being treated for cancer I had lost some of my hair and had given up wearing makeup. I knew deep down this was my chance to rebuild my future the way I wanted it. I really had to focus and make sure that I pursued my goals and passions. I focused on rediscovering myself. I needed to reconnect with who I was now.
After my cancer journey, I longed for a job that allowed me to work with patients. I joined head and neck cancer patient groups. I also campaigned for cancer awareness. I successfully applied for a medical reception job. This combination of voluntary and paid work seemed to cover my passion and enthusiasm to help my community. I was still an ENT outpatient and had hospital appointments to attend every six weeks. I knew that if there was to be a reoccurrence this type of cancer usually presented itself within a few years of treatment. Fingers crossed I would be okay. I just put one foot in front of the other and carried on.
It wasn’t long before I was down to six monthly hospital appointments. My confidence was increasing and my general wellbeing, too. Now, nine years post-cancer treatment, I’m still rediscovering who I am and what drives me. I’m fortunate to have passions and a new career that fulfils me. My son is now a teenager and doing well. As for my love life? I’m content being on my own for now. I hope that my story inspires others that it’s never too late to make a change and discover your passion.
Symptoms of Throat Cancer
According to the Cancer Council, throat cancer generally refers to cancers that start in the pharynx or larynx.
Symptoms for throat cancers can include:
- throat pain,
- shortness of breath,
- persistent sore throat or cough,
- coughing up blood,
- changes to the voice such as hoarseness,
- difficulties swallowing,
- feeling there is something stuck in the throat,
- lumps in the neck or throat,
- and sudden unexplained weight loss.
Risk factors for throat cancers include:
- smoking tobacco,
- excessive alcohol consumption,
- human papillomavirus (HPV),
- Epstein-Barr virus (EBV),
- poor diet and family history of cancer.
Around 60% of pharyngeal and laryngeal cancers are caused by smoking (cigarettes, cigars or pipes); around 30% are caused by excess alcohol consumption. Currently, an adapter that plugs into an iPhone to check for throat cancer is being piloted by the NHS in the West Midlands, UK.
