HIS MOUTH ULCER WAS DEADLY

A small niggle turned out to be something sinister

Ithink I have a mouth ulcer,’ winced my husband Steve, 59. ‘Maybe you’re a bit run-down,’ I said.

But when the lump kept growing, the GP referred him to a specialist for a biopsy.

‘I’m sorry, you have cancer of the head and neck,’ he told Steve afterwards.

We were dumbfounded. Steve was very t, rarely sick and didn’t smoke. We were told the tumour could have been caused by his work as a spray painter in his youth.

Urgent surgery was recommended.

‘What if I do nothing?’

Steve asked, anxious.

‘You’re looking at three months,’ the specialist replied.

‘I’ll be okay,’ Steve assured me, but I was distraught.

Soon after, Steve was wheeled into the operating theatre at Royal Melbourne Hospital, Vic. The growth had already doubled to the size of a 20c coin and, to our horror, the cancer had spread to his bones and lymph nodes.

The surgery took an agonising 18 hours.

When Steve emerged, he had 60 staples keeping his neck and head together. He’d had his jaw bone, lower teeth and 40 lymph nodes removed, a tracheotomy to allow him to breathe, and his leg had been broken to remove his bula to create a new jaw bone.

Tissue and skin had been taken from his thigh and calf to form new gums and his whole jaw was held together with a metal plate.

He was so swollen that tears sprang to my eyes.

Neither of us had been prepared for how extensive and horrendous this surgery would be but I was so grateful he’d pulled through.

He couldn’t talk, but used a whiteboard by his bed.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

I’m doing ok, he wrote. We’ve got this, love.

Five weeks later, Steve was discharged and began 36 rounds of radiation. To our dismay the cancer had spread to his lungs. He was put on immunotherapy, a drug treatment, for a year. Unfortunately, low blood ow meant his rst surgery had to be repeated – with his other leg being broken to form a new jaw.

It was like a never-ending nightmare for brave Steve.

Knowing what was in store, we were far more afraid than before. Luckily Steve, a huge ghter, pulled through once more.

Today, 18 months after his horri c diagnosis, Steve is doing well. He’s out of hospital and can talk again.

He had the feeding peg removed from his stomach so he can eat soft food, and even enjoy the odd beer!

He’s an amazing husband, father and grandad, and everyone loves him.

To show our gratitude we raised $10,000 for the hospital by becoming spokespeople for them via the Dry July campaign. The drive asks people to give up alcohol each July to support those affected by cancer, but people can still donate all year round.

I hope by telling our story, we can raise even more.

● Visit dryjuly.com

Luckily Steve, a huge fighter, pulled through