A Journey of Hope and Resilience

Finding My Voice Again

A journey is never a simple path. It is filled with hope and heart, joy and uncertainty, dreams, detours, and moments that test the soul. My journey with cancer became all of these.

Facing Cancer Again

It was hard to hear that my cancer had returned for a second time. The first time caught me completely off guard, and confronting it again had me terrified. I was the one who discovered the lump, and the moment I felt it, I knew it didn't belong - something was undeniably wrong. I had this unnerving feeling that I just couldn't shake. And now, three years after the first surgery, I was back in the same unsettling situation.

My family went with me to the appointment for the biopsy. I was awake during the procedure, unlike the first when I was put under anesthesia. The doctor injected anesthetic into the area of my mouth before extracting the lump from my palate. My mouth was completely numb to the pain, but I could still feel the pressure and movement of the instrument. I think I was calmer with my dad sitting next to me.

I had to wait several days for the results to appear in my chart and about another two weeks or so for the appointment with my doctor, who confirmed that the cancer had returned. My first thought was, “What did I do wrong to end up here again?” I had attended all my appointments and scheduled my MRIs. I’d even researched this rare cancer. Still, fear knocked at my door, doubt spoke in whispers, and pain tried to write the ending of my story.

I had to put my fear aside and prepare for surgery. The thought that kept replaying in my mind was something the doctor who performed my first surgery had told me: if I needed another surgery, I would probably need reconstruction. How would this surgery go? What would reconstructive surgery on my palate involve?

Preparing for Surgery

I did not want the pain, but I also did not want the possibility of the cancer returning and taking or altering my life in any way. My mom and dad came into town to be with me during the surgery, which comforted me. I was grateful to have them, along with my daughter and granddaughter, by my side.

I arrived at the hospital early, as scheduled. While I sat waiting for them to call me back, the palms of my hands began to sweat. The pain and recovery process from the previous surgery played in my mind over and over again, like a song on repeat. When they called my name, I slowly went back, changed into the hospital gown and socks as requested, and waited with my family until it was time to go into surgery.

After the surgery, I learned the extent of the procedure. The doctor had to remove tissue from the hard and soft palate extending to the inner left cheek. I later found out that tissue taken from my cheek had been used to fill the flap in my palate.

Learning to Live with Uncertainty

A week after surgery, I knew something was wrong. I went to the doctor’s office and learned that the tissue used for the flap had failed. When the doctor removed the tissue, it felt like something drastically changed in that split second. She told me there was a hole and asked whether I wanted to see it. Reluctantly, I said yes. She handed me a mirror, and I slowly lifted it to my face, afraid of what I would see.

As I looked in the mirror, tears began rolling down my face. My mind was not prepared to see a hole piercing my upper palate or better yet understanding the effects it would have. I attempted to talk and my words were muffled. In that very instance, I realized that I had lost my voice.

I did not know whether the loss was permanent or temporary. I cried, but my daughter reminded me that I had to stay strong. I wondered, “What if I am never able to talk again?” In the days following the visit, I kept telling myself, “God got me.” I knew that he wouldn’t put anything more on me than I could handle. There were days when fear whispered louder than faith, when uncertainty tried to convince me that my voice had grown quiet and my strength slipped away. But each morning, I made a choice. I chose hope.

Finding My Voice

With every challenge, I discovered a courage I never knew I possessed—a courage strengthened by family, lifted by friends, guided by faith, and inspired by every person who reminded me that I was never walking alone.

A few weeks after the surgery, I had trouble eating and drinking. Food and liquid would funnel through the hole and come out of my nose and sometimes drain back to the ear canal, or at least that is what it felt like. I would try to talk, but no one could understand my words. Whenever I went out or had to make appointments, my daughter and father had to be my voice. 

After a few months, my doctor gave me information about a dentist who could make a prosthetic device for me. Before I move on, one thing I didn’t mention is that I asked God to align me with the right doctors to help me on this journey, and He did just that! The dentist provided a prosthetic that successfully kept food and liquid out of the hole. Won’t He do it!!

As the months continued, I noticed that my speech was becoming clearer and soon learned that the hole was closing. In about a year and a half, it had closed completely, and I was healed. From time to time, I still felt numbness on my inner cheek, but I was able to talk! It was like finding my voice again. What a profound moment: I had my voice back. 

Today, I go to checkups every three months and a yearly PET scan to make sure I stay cancer free. Through this experience, I learned that resilience is not simply surviving. It is rising again, finding light in the darkest moments, and believing that tomorrow still holds promise. When your eyes remain fixed on the purpose before you, pain does not have the final word.

Turning Pain into Purpose

I vowed to put my 3–5-year goal plan into action, which included writing a book and becoming an author. I felt overwhelmed by the desire to inspire others. I had found my voice and wanted to share it with the world. If my journey could inspire even one person to keep believing, keep hoping, and keep fighting, then every step would have carried out a purpose.

But hope—hope picked up the pen.

Now I understand that the strongest flowers often bloom after the hardest rain. So today I rise—not because my journey is forgotten, but because it has transformed me. If someone standing in the shadows can see my light and find the courage to believe in their own tomorrow, then every tear, every battle, and every victory have become a blessing.

When we rise with hope, we discover that we were never defined by the storm—only by the strength it revealed within us.

Hope + Resilience = ME