told Lindsay he
would aggressively tackle the cancer by removing two thirds of her tongue. He would
then add a skin graft using part of her leg or arm. He would also incorporate veins
and muscle so she would have blood flow in what remained of her tongue. She would
need to stay at MD Anderson for weeks.
“They tell me all of this and I am beside myself. I don’t want to do it,” she says.
“I’ll never be able to speak again. I’m going to have this crazy tongue. This option
felt like Frankenstein. When I heard this new option I felt like, What else don’t I know? What am I not asking? Should I not even consider the small
center where they didn’t even tell me about this? So I leave and call Nancy. She’s in her car in the parking garage, and I say, ‘Why
didn’t you tell me about this?!’ I am mad, and I don’t want to do this.”
Nancy let Lindsay release all her fear and anger.
“I remember saying, ‘Lindsay, come home. I didn’t cancel your OR time.’ For some reason
I didn’t cancel it, and I didn’t tell anybody. And y’know, OR time is a hot commodity
and people could use the time. But, I don’t know,” she says, “something just told
me to save it.”
Part of the reason Lindsay felt so frustrated was that doctors had confirmed she had
cancer in her neck, but they couldn’t confirm that the spot they saw on her tongue
was cancer or precancer. Her world felt out of control. She thought long and hard
about whether to trust a small private practice or rely on the experience of a major
cancer center. In the end, it had nothing to do with buildings. Lindsay went with
the person who was, once again, focusing not just on saving her life but preserving
the quality of her life if she survived.
“Nancy said, ‘I am going to go in there and decide what to do once I know what’s there.’
The other doctor said, ‘This is what I’m going to do regardless of what’s there.’ ”
The week after Thanksgiving, Lindsay was admitted to the California Pacific Medical
Center. She was very nervous in the operating room, wondering whether she’d be able
to talk again after the surgery. Nancy and Dr. Hartman were in the room and a nurse
put in her IV. The next thing Lindsay knew, Nancy was talking in her ear.
“Do you like how you sound? Talk.”
So, Lindsay talked.
“I’m talking and I’m getting mad,” she says, “I’m thinking, Of course I like how I sound. Get this over with! ”
Nancy continues. “I need you to sing the ABCs. Start singing.”
Lindsay went through the ABCs and also recited nursery rhymes at Nancy’s request.
“Sally sells seashells . . .”
Nancy and Dr. Hartman kept Lindsay talking.
“We did ‘seashells by the seashore,’ then we did ‘dee dee dee, ba ba ba.’ Every little
tongue twister my partner and I could think of from our childhood we had Lindsay do.”
Nancy adds with a chuckle, “And she did them groggy.”
A groggy and confused Lindsay just wanted Nancy to start the surgery. When she woke
up in the recovery room, she was convinced she couldn’t talk. She was aggravated by
the nurses who were asking questions, knowing she couldn’t speak.
“In comes this woman in a ball gown,” Lindsay says. “It’s Nancy and she’s on her way
to a black-tie event. She starts talking to me, and I’m looking at her like, I can’t talk! I’ve even convinced myself that they had to do the skin graft because I can feel
that my butt hurts where they took skin. At this point, my tongue is very swollen,
too.”
An angry Lindsay sees Nancy lean in to her.
“She said in my ear, ‘Right now you’re swollen, and it’s going tosound funny, and it’s going to hurt, but do you remember doing the nursery rhymes?
Can you hear yourself? That was after surgery. That is what you’ll sound like when you’re not swollen anymore. Hold on
to that.’ ”
Lindsay calls that a golden moment.
“I was like
would aggressively tackle the cancer by removing two thirds of her tongue. He would
then add a skin graft using part of her leg or arm. He would also incorporate veins
and muscle so she would have blood flow in what remained of her tongue. She would
need to stay at MD Anderson for weeks.
“They tell me all of this and I am beside myself. I don’t want to do it,” she says.
“I’ll never be able to speak again. I’m going to have this crazy tongue. This option
felt like Frankenstein. When I heard this new option I felt like, What else don’t I know? What am I not asking? Should I not even consider the small
center where they didn’t even tell me about this? So I leave and call Nancy. She’s in her car in the parking garage, and I say, ‘Why
didn’t you tell me about this?!’ I am mad, and I don’t want to do this.”
Nancy let Lindsay release all her fear and anger.
“I remember saying, ‘Lindsay, come home. I didn’t cancel your OR time.’ For some reason
I didn’t cancel it, and I didn’t tell anybody. And y’know, OR time is a hot commodity
and people could use the time. But, I don’t know,” she says, “something just told
me to save it.”
Part of the reason Lindsay felt so frustrated was that doctors had confirmed she had
cancer in her neck, but they couldn’t confirm that the spot they saw on her tongue
was cancer or precancer. Her world felt out of control. She thought long and hard
about whether to trust a small private practice or rely on the experience of a major
cancer center. In the end, it had nothing to do with buildings. Lindsay went with
the person who was, once again, focusing not just on saving her life but preserving
the quality of her life if she survived.
“Nancy said, ‘I am going to go in there and decide what to do once I know what’s there.’
The other doctor said, ‘This is what I’m going to do regardless of what’s there.’ ”
The week after Thanksgiving, Lindsay was admitted to the California Pacific Medical
Center. She was very nervous in the operating room, wondering whether she’d be able
to talk again after the surgery. Nancy and Dr. Hartman were in the room and a nurse
put in her IV. The next thing Lindsay knew, Nancy was talking in her ear.
“Do you like how you sound? Talk.”
So, Lindsay talked.
“I’m talking and I’m getting mad,” she says, “I’m thinking, Of course I like how I sound. Get this over with! ”
Nancy continues. “I need you to sing the ABCs. Start singing.”
Lindsay went through the ABCs and also recited nursery rhymes at Nancy’s request.
“Sally sells seashells . . .”
Nancy and Dr. Hartman kept Lindsay talking.
“We did ‘seashells by the seashore,’ then we did ‘dee dee dee, ba ba ba.’ Every little
tongue twister my partner and I could think of from our childhood we had Lindsay do.”
Nancy adds with a chuckle, “And she did them groggy.”
A groggy and confused Lindsay just wanted Nancy to start the surgery. When she woke
up in the recovery room, she was convinced she couldn’t talk. She was aggravated by
the nurses who were asking questions, knowing she couldn’t speak.
“In comes this woman in a ball gown,” Lindsay says. “It’s Nancy and she’s on her way
to a black-tie event. She starts talking to me, and I’m looking at her like, I can’t talk! I’ve even convinced myself that they had to do the skin graft because I can feel
that my butt hurts where they took skin. At this point, my tongue is very swollen,
too.”
An angry Lindsay sees Nancy lean in to her.
“She said in my ear, ‘Right now you’re swollen, and it’s going tosound funny, and it’s going to hurt, but do you remember doing the nursery rhymes?
Can you hear yourself? That was after surgery. That is what you’ll sound like when you’re not swollen anymore. Hold on
to that.’ ”
Lindsay calls that a golden moment.
“I was like
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