Cancer Didn’t Kill Me, But It Did Ruin Dinner…
The Beginning
January 6, 2026
"Unfortunately it's squamous cell carcinoma...we'll need to get you over to IU Health to their oncology department ASAP...."
I had just opened my eyes from being put under for my biopsy. I immediately knew something was wrong because Mason and my mom were crying. After my doctor said the sentence above I just kind of tuned out. The last few months flashed in my brain. I went from being absolutely hopeless to absolutely pissed.
I live in Indianapolis, Indiana and had been dealing with Community Health Center for the past few months. In December 2024 I noticed I had a painful rash on my tongue, and then I started to lose mobility. I couldn't stick my tongue out anymore, and it would go crooked when I did. My right ear was also KILLING me, so I thought I may have a gnarly ear infection. I went to urgent care where they told me I had shingles. They prescribed meds and nothing changed, it actually got worse and more painful. I went back a week and a half later where the nurse looked at me for one minute and berated me for being a "drug seeker." I cried all the way home that day. I finally got into my PCP who referred me to an infectious disease specialist.
The infectious disease specialist immediately told me I had an STD in my mouth. "Hmmmmm I don't think so" I replied, knowing my relationship status with a partner I trusted. She screened me for every STD and, of course, they all came back negative. She decided it was a 'fungal infection" and gave me some meds. Guess what? Still no help.
Everything got SO PAINFUL that I visited the emergency room on February 4, 2025. The ER hooked me up to pain meds, let them drip, and sent me home. No screenings, no scans, nada. It was a total waste of time and money.
I finally got into an ENT a few weeks later (thank you, Dr. Hansen). She poked the tumor under my tongue and I immediately JUMPED out of the seat. Literally jumped- my body shot across the room. The searing pain in my head and ear was unbearable. She immediately brought me downstairs and fast tracked an MRI and CT scan. She biopsied me the next week and saved my life.
My tongue was so painful I could no longer eat. I was losing weight FAST. I went from 130 pounds to 100 like lightning. My skin was pale and my eyes were sinking in. I finally got in to Dr. Michael Moore at IU who had me on an operating table in two weeks after a PET scan. That day I call my "Frankenstein surgery" which was ten hours long and did the following:
-Docs cut my neck nearly all the way across to be able to remove my lymph nodes and to go up to remove my tongue and tumor. They ended up removing 70% of the right side of my tongue.
-They removed tissue from my back to reconstruct a new tongue for me.
-They put in a trach to help for breathing until swelling went down.
-A feeding tube was placed into my abdomen
-My right tonsil was removed for precaution
I spent the next week in the ICU in misery. Mason slept on a chair next to me every night. He brushed my matted hair and walked me to the bathroom every day. I couldn't speak, so we wrote each other notes. It was the worst week of my life. Every few hours doctors would come in and turn my trach down so I could be weaned off. They pulled tubes out of me with force that took my breath away. Constant IV's, shots, blood draws, scans. I don't think I slept more than two hours at a time. It was the most pain I have ever had to endure. I had nightmares that I was in hell and I couldn't speak or scream while demons tortured me. The only upside was I FINALLY got some nutrition through my feeding tube. Mason said with my first 'meal' the color returned to my face. It was like coming back to life.
After surgery we got the bad news that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, so I was officially stage four. This meant not just radiation, but also chemo for my treatment plan. I will dive deeper into that treatment in another entry. 33 rounds of radiation and six of chemo is what I was gearing up to endure. Thinking of that was so daunting as I had just had my entire body cut up, sutured, and held together with tape and bandages.
I am hoping this blog will help others in this situation know they are not alone. I also would love to dive deeper so my friends and family know what I have gone through. Each entry will focus on one area of recovery and updates of things as I continue along trying to deal with the "new normal" of life. I wanted to start this blog while in treatment, but I was in so much pain, so sick, and was attempting to work two jobs to keep us afloat (America!). I am glad I have more time and clarity to finally start this. I figured starting at the beginning was best. I hope you all will follow along.
XOXO,
Brittany
“You Are Not Cancer”
January 15, 2026
So, I had a BIG crash out on Tuesday….
Ever since I’ve had cancer, I’ve been playing life on hard mode. Not just physically, but emotionally and DEFINITELY financially. Trying to figure out how to keep us afloat without income has been proven very, very difficult. I finally got approved for disability, but it doesn’t kick in until the end of May (I have been unemployed since October) and it’s absolutely not enough to cover our bills. I also am waiting on an approval for unemployment. Indiana hates unemployed and disabled people, so it’s been chaotic, to say the least.
My husband, Mason, is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. We were married for two months (December 2024) before I got my cancer diagnosis, so we have not known peace our entire married life. I want SO BADLY to make his life better and easier, but I feel like I keep making it worse. We finally got a house after moving back to Indiana from San Diego, CA in June 2024. We were finally making some headway. I was like, YES awesome! Things are looking up! I was working two jobs to pay for upgrades to the house that were not found in our inspection (a $25,000 bathroom emergency re-do which I will talk about another time) but things were chugging along. Then BAM- cancer. Mason slept next to me in a chair for a week while I was in the ICU. He learned how to clean my trach. He brushed my matted hair. He walked me to the bathroom. He took me to every doctor’s appointment. He provided insurance for me. He rubbed my back while I puked chemo every day for months. To say he is a gem is a gross understatement. I swear to all of you I am convinced I didn’t die last year because it has not been enough time together to love him properly. Even when my body was at it’s worst, he told me I was beautiful everyday. He still does, even though most days when I look at myself, it’s a stranger looking back.
So, back to the crash out…
I went to my grandma’s apartment to help my Mom do some chores for her. She is dealing with arthritis and other ailments (she’s almost 86!) and I hadn’t seen her since before Christmas because she had COVID. I think my grief, stress, pain, finances just caught up to me. I bawled. I bawled HARD. I told Mom and Grandma how badly I felt because I made Mason’s life harder. He didn’t sign up for this. I can’t pay the mortgage anymore. I can’t do my job I went to school for. I am so terrified of losing our house (it is supposed to be our forever home) and I just cried those big, giant, desperate tears. Mom and Grandma cried too.
My dad passed away in 2012 and he is buried in a tiny little cemetery near my Mom and Grandma. I hadn’t been out there since I got sick, and I was visiting alone (sans Mason this time) so I drove myself out there. I bawled some more. I cried so hard I broke blood vessels in my face. I wailed “I wish you were here so you could help me!” into the wind. Another person rolled up to the cemetery and refused to get out of their car to give me time to lose my shit for awhile (thank you, stranger). I sat on the mound over my dad’s casket because it was the closest I could get to him. I just absolutely let it all go.
I got home to my warm house around 5:00 and Mason and our kitty, Opal, greeted me at the door. Of course Mason wanted to know how the day went. I told him everything. I cried again. He tucked me under my heated blanket on the couch, hugged me and said the magic words..
”You are not cancer.”
“What?” I asked. He responded, “YOU did not make my life harder. Cancer made OUR lives harder. YOU are not cancer. Please don’t ever think you have done anything but make me happy.”
…..what a fucking gem, amirite??? I told you.
I realized he is right. It was such a simple sentence. I always get so down on myself. We are all our own worst enemy. I didn’t ask for this. I fought cancer with literally everything I had. I am NED (No Evidence of Disease) right now - Hallelujah - and I really want to keep it that way. I am literally relearning how to live, how to speak, how to SWALLOW FOOD. I have made a lot of progress in less than a year. There is still a lot to go and a lot is permanent, but I am here. I woke up today. I live with and get to love a wonderful person. There’s a purring cat on my lap. My mom and grandma are here and let me cry all over them. Somewhere in the universe, my dad is saying “It’s going to be okay- get your ass up and keep going. You’re a strong bitch and I raised you to fight.”
All this to say, it’s ok to crash out sometimes. Support is EVERYTHING, especially when you have cancer. I have so many wonderful people around me. My friends are incredible and also stepped in so much to help us when everything was falling apart. I hope you all have someone (or, hopefully LOTS of someones) you can lean on, too.
Love you.
XOXO,
Brittany
Frankenstein
February 2, 2026
I frequently refer to my cancer removal surgery as the “Frankenstein surgery” and today I will show and tell you why.
In my first post, I listed everything that was done in my surgery, but I did not go into how I looked or the feelings to go along with it. I am finally ready to do so. Ready?
Yup.
I remember coming to in the middle of a full blown panic attack. I was literally a stranger in a weird body. I was not breathing on my own. My head was THROBBING. I had an IV in every vein of both arms and in two arteries. Drainage tubes full of my own blood were everywhere and I didn’t even know where they were coming from. I couldn’t move anyway, but I was terrified to. Think of being decapitated, someone sewed your head back on, and then woke you up. Yeah, it was like that.
I couldn’t swallow even my own spit, so they had to suction out my mouth multiple times a day. Every morning at 6:00 AM four doctors came in to ‘turn down’ my trach to wean me off of it. On my last day in the hospital they rushed my bed, woke me up, cut out the sutures and RIPPED the trach tube out of my neck. I have never experienced pain or fear like that, ever. I had nightmares every night that I was in Hell and demons were torturing me because I no longer had a tongue to be able to yell or tell them to stop. I think this is why I don’t fear death any longer? I feel like I have already been there.
Mason slept beside me every night on a chair and would brush my greasy, matted hair and attempt to braid it into something that wasn’t a knot. We wrote notes to each other because I could’t talk. I spent two nights in the ICU and four in a regular hospital room in the critical care area. Mason and I really crushed those “in sickness and in health” vows right away! Day four or five I got to get out of bed and take some steps. I saw myself in the mirror and burst into tears. My head and neck were swollen so badly I looked like I weighed 400 lbs. Mason told me “you should have seen yourself on day 1” Noooooo thank you. A feeding tube protruded out of my stomach (still does) and one afternoon was spent teaching me how to ‘eat’ through it so I could do it myself. No more fun dinners for me!
I finally got the OK to go home. I had drainage tubes everywhere still. They removed my trach but it left a giant hole right in the middle of my neck. I made Mason bandage it for probably two weeks because I refused to look at it in the mirror. I have never wanted to die so badly in my life. I cried every day and just felt so, so terrible that I lived through that surgery. I still think about it some days, and on the especially bad days I still feel that way. I don’t know why I am here, but I am. Some days I am grateful, some days I wish I would have just passed away before waking up. I am not sure which one is better. I will say with confidence though, I am 100% sure I didn’t die because it hasn’t been long enough to love Mason properly. We were just getting started.
I have so much guilt because I feel like I ruined Mason’s life. He assures me daily I didn’t, but that guilt will never fade. It has been miserable struggle from the first day we heard the C word and every day we just try to stay afloat. Some nights I look at him in bed and cry to myself quietly. I just want to remember every single part of his face. I think about how much I would miss it. Every hug and kiss I try to hold on just a little longer because there were days I was untouchable; too frail to even take a step unassisted. It feels like it has been so long, and some days Mason has to remind me “it hasn’t even been a year!” It feels impossible; forever and a moment all in one.
I am starting to forget who I used to be and I hope who I am and who I am becoming is someone who can help others. My goal in life is to relieve some of this hurt for other people going through the evil cancer journey. I am speaking at our IU support group this month on the 19th. I am hoping to speak at the Head and Neck Cancer Symposium this year. I will speak wherever they will give me a place to stand and a person to talk to. Head and neck cancer patients have the highest rate of suicide and I absolutely see why, but everyone reading along with this has a purpose and a reason for living. Everyone deserves a chance. If you are lucky enough to get more time, use it wisely. I know I will.
The Things We Lose
February 23, 2026
Cancer has caused a lot of loss. I have lost my ability to eat, my ability to speak, massive amounts of weight, friends, my body, my confidence. But the biggest one is my career.
I have been a project manager for almost seven years. I love being a PM. I have a Business degree and specialty certificate in Project Management from Cornell. I am wildly qualified. When I got diagnosed, I was working two jobs- at 3M and at Meta (both contract work for a year). Mason and I had a HUGE issue with our newly purchased home- a full bathroom remodel because of a leaky toilet upstairs. Of course my ongoing bad luck, as usual. The inspectors missed it and refused to make it right. The repairs and remodel was nearly $25,000. I picked up two jobs to try to pay down the repair debt. I let both of my jobs know that I had cancer and would need some flexibility for scans, surgery, and treatment. Both roles were remote, so I let them know I would take my laptop to treatment whenever I could. But, I would have to be out out for awhile for surgery and recovery and on Fridays for chemo, as it was a full day at the cancer center.
3M immediately told me that if I didn’t work 40 hours a week, I was out. Sent me an email that I was terminated in 30 days. Ugh. Meta immediately started giving me bad check in feedback, even when I was crushing it. I didn’t understand where the feedback was coming from? They turned my computer off one Friday evening with no notice. I had spent 10 months removing “DEI” from all their documents and finding ways to make the department relevant enough to not get fired by Zuckerberg/Trump. I lost my paycheck but I didn’t have to sell my soul any longer, which I think is for the best overall.
I have been unemployed since October, pleading with unemployment and disability to pay out. Disability has been approved but you have to wait six months for money. They are hoping a ‘stage four’ diagnosis means you will die before they have to pay you. America is set up to screw everyone over who is disabled or ill. I have been trying to make the best of my time, as I have not been able to find work. People hear my new speech and pass. It feels horrible. I have turned my focus to help other cancer patients, and I did my first speaking engagement to my head and neck cancer support group last Thursday. It was AMAZING and everyone had such wonderful input. My new friend Brenda (shout out, Brenda!) raised her hand and said “Your speech directly correlates with intelligence. Keeping your employment is incredibly hard. People think that you’re dumb. I just want to say ‘my tongue is gone but my brain isn’t!’” Ohhhhh my gosh, she took the words DIRECTLY out of my head!
I just want to shake people and say “listen to my words and what they mean, not how they sound!” I honestly don’t think I will ever be employed again, and it breaks my heart. I am hoping my first speaking engagement will turn into more, at least. I absolutely love public speaking, and I love knowing other people’s journeys. I want to help others battling cancer, because it feels so lonely and so hopeless sometimes. If I can help even one person going through it, it’s worth it. I know what it’s like to be a stranger in your own body. I know how it feels for people to think you are dumb, or in my case, deaf (please stop shouting at me!). I know what it’s like to lose your entire sense of self. I have cried so, so much about not being able to pay bills or keep Mason and Opal fed. I stay up at night doing calculations of how long we can continue to pay the mortgage. We will NEVER pay the bathroom off, now. It’s just so overwhelming. I feel like such a loser. I think I’ve gone through every emotion you can have in the last year. I wish people knew how many changes I have endured, how many things I have lost, how out of control it is, and how terrible it feels. I dodge and adjust the best I can, but it is exhausting. Cancer is exhausting. It’s a full time job to be sick, I just wish it came with a paycheck.
P.S. People ask all the time how they can help. We have a GoFundMe set up here, and I also have Venmo @brittzedaker. Helping with bills is so appreciated. My treatment was $860,000 last year. Now in the new year it is a new deductible, so things have been TIGHT. Appointments, scans, meds, and no income has ruined us. Thank you for supporting us with a donation, in person support, and good thoughts from afar. We love you guys.