The Swallows Australian Edition Magazine

wanted to help but all were in shock. My dad broke
down in the supermarket when a friend he hadn’t
seen for years asked how the family was. I went
from being positive, to crying hysterically, to despair
all at the same time. I remember sitting on my
children’s bed in the middle of the night crying that
they would never know how much I loved them.
A Mother of 4
- Susannah Gallagher
After a difficult pregnancy, my fourth child was born
in April 2014 and had to be hospitalised for over a
month. During this time I developed an ulcer on the
left side of my tongue that didn’t go away. I checked
with two pharmacists and family but all dismissed
this as a result of the trauma of the past months.
Whilst I had no other symptoms and did not feel
unwell, after six weeks I visited my dentist to check
if this was indeed nothing to worry about. The
minute I saw her face as she looked in my mouth I
knew that things were not right.
She referred me to an Oral Surgeon who
recommended a biopsy. I cried the whole way
through the biopsy despite everyone assuring me
that it would be all fine. Somehow I just knew that it
was not fine. I was told that the likelihood of the
ulcer being mouth cancer was minute, as I was a 39
year old, non-smoking, very healthy female.
However she recommended that we rule this out as
the possible cause.
Less than 48 hours later, a day that will be etched in
my mind forever, my husband Justin came with me
to the appointment, even though he was not worried
at all. The news was hard to process. I remember
feeling almost out of my body. How could a healthy
mother of four beautiful children under five and a
half have cancer. Mouth cancer is an old male
smokers’ disease, isn’t it? I remember asking if I
was going to die. I rang mum on the way home and
all I remember is that she answered ‘its all fine isn’t
it’ and I said ‘no mum it’s the worst possible result’.
The reactions of my family and friends were mixed.
Some listened, some grieved with me, some
The following week I saw Dr Veivers, my ENT &
Head and Neck surgeon. He recommended a PET
scan and that I attend a multidisciplinary committee
at the Northern Sydney Cancer Centre the following
week. That following week was the longest of my
life as I struggled to accept the reality of my
situation. I tried to be positive and hopeful but this
was not always possible. I had a PET scan followed
by a meeting with some 25 experienced
professionals in their fields to determine the best
treatment option. Finally my doctor delivered the
good news that my cancer was isolated and that
surgery provided the best possible outcome for
survival.
Two days later I had a left partial glossectomy and
neck dissection. A 1x1x1.5cm, stage one tumour
was removed from my tongue, and tested positive
as an HPV cancer. I spent the night in Intensive
Care and the following week in hospital. My results
came back, whilst all the nodes were clear, one of
the sides of the tumour did not have the clear
margins that they like to get to ensure that the
tumour has been removed. The despair I felt that I
would need to go through another operation was
extreme. Yes I was lucky that cancer had not
spread and my chances of survival were high, but
the thought of another operation was devastating.
Two weeks later more of my tongue was removed
and this time the margins were all clear.
Months of soup, pureed food, intensive speech
lessons, yoga, meditation and research followed,
mixed in with being a mum to my children who had
no idea I was sick. The dietitians, speech therapist
and cancer support groups became my new friends
and, with my family and friends, their positive
energy and support is something that I will never
forget. We took a holiday and life returned to our
“new normal”. I found that I was continually
checking my mouth and neck for changes and this
lead me to see a counsellor to help me with
recurrence anxiety.
Next month will mark three years cancer-free. I have
a slight change in my speech but nothing that a
stranger would notice. I still tear up when I talk of
my journey and perhaps that will always be the case
but it no longer consumes me 24 hours a day.
Today I stand here with a scar across my neck, but
one that I am strangely proud of as it shows what I
went through to be here today.
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