What I learned from a patient who had a Laryngectomy

A Laryngectomy is a procedure where the larynx (or voice box) is removed (-ectomy) often because of cancer. It leaves the patient with a hole in the neck to breathe and talk, albeit with some difficulty.

I don't think I properly had many dealings with people who have had this procedure done (ie laryngectomees) until I came across this particular patient. In my mind, having a laryngectomy was a life-changing procedure to the point where it could be life-limiting. I couldn't imagine being put to sleep on an operating table and then waking up not being able to talk without great effort or assistance. Talking effortlessly is definitely an everyday luxury I take for granted.

I don't know what I was expecting before I went to see this gentleman at the bedside. Perhaps someone who was depressed, withdrawn, brusque... All the things I imagine I might be, had I been in that situation. I clearly need to work on my coping mechanisms for difficult life events. However, I met a man who was fiercely independent despite various other physical ailments. He was the kind of person you would have thought was in the army in his younger years. I thought communication between us would have been so strained that it would just dissolve in frustration but he used every last ounce of breath to finish each sentence. He even added unnecessarily polite words like please and thank you although I wouldn't have held it against him in the slightest if he chose to forgo these niceties to conserve energy.

I don't know much about this gentleman's story so who knows if he had a hard time coming to terms with it at first. Perhaps he was all those things I imagined but made his peace with it. Or maybe he was totally fine with it and was grateful to have the operation done for whatever reason. But he stayed on my mind because he taught me something about loss. What it's like to lose a part of yourself but not let it defeat you. Losing my voice would mean losing my accent, my sing-song intonation and my slightly sarcastic tone of voice. That would take a toll on how I see myself, my identity. And I suppose people who lose a limb or their eyesight or hearing would go through a process of coming to terms with their own loss, how ever that looks for them. But the human spirit is one of vigor and resilience and we would do well not to forget that.