Squamous Cell Carcinoma: Facing the Unknown with Grace, Humor and Action

Before I was diagnosed, life was pretty normal—and very full. I was enjoying retirement with my wonderful and supportive wife, our kids, grandkids, and friends. We traveled as much as possible with the mindset that you should do everything you can while you have the ability to do so. Never put off things you really want to do. At one point, we had a vacation home in Baja, a motorhome, and our home here in Utah. There were always adventures to keep us busy. Today, we’re down to our primary residence, but the mindset hasn’t changed.

Cancer, however, has been part of my life for a long time. I’ve had several cancer experiences, starting with a lot of skin cancer that led to multiple surgeries, including facial reconstruction and radiation. I joke that I see the dermatologist more than the dentist. Later came prostate cancer, my first real scare, when longevity truly became top of mind. I dealt with those emotions by acting quickly on a treatment plan. That was twelve years ago, and there’s been no uptick in my PSA since. I’m on what I call the “low as you can go” plan.

A lump, a diagnosis, and the start of another journey

It seems like there’s always more to come for cancer patients. One day in mid‑2025, I was shaving and felt a lump in my neck. After a couple of weeks of it not going away, I realized I was about to take yet another journey. Longevity was front and center again, and I knew I was getting back on the rollercoaster.

This time, I was entering the unknown. I learned what the parotid gland is — your salivary gland — and knew I needed swift action. I started with my primary care doctor, who ordered a CT scan after feeling the lump. That scan identified a tumor on the parotid gland, followed by a biopsy and a pathology diagnosis of metastatic squamous cell carcinoma. Of course, it couldn’t be something simple.

The most challenging part was educating myself while everything unfolded. I already knew the ENT surgeon from my facial reconstruction surgeries, which helped. Once I shared the biopsy results, things moved quickly. Surgery followed — a four‑hour procedure — with a PET scan beforehand. From my first primary care visit to surgery was about seven weeks, which felt fast and reassuring.

That experience reinforced something I strongly believe: you have to be your own advocate. You have to know how to navigate through the system, not wait for it to navigate you. This is not the time to become an introvert.

Finding humor in unexpected places

After surgery, I went through six weeks of radiation therapy. Staying positive is a mindset that comes from within, but it’s also shaped by the people around you. As a former business owner, I learned you can either let problems overwhelm you or see them as a series of solutions. I chose to focus on the solution; returning to a normal life. I even started journaling on my first day of radiation.

Along the way, there were some unexpectedly humorous moments. Head and neck cancer changes a lot: dry mouth, loss of taste, and more. I was told to use toothpaste without certain ingredients. The one I found worked, until the mint flavor started irritating my mouth. That’s how I ended up standing in the kids’ toothpaste aisle when a woman asked, “What toothpaste does your kid like?” We both laughed. I bought Dragon Dazzle Blue Raspberry toothpaste, and I’m still using it today, even though my taste has returned.

The people who made a difference

Every member of my care team made a difference. They genuinely sensed what I was going through and wanted to help. Sometimes it’s the very first person you see who sets the tone. The receptionist greeted me with such warmth and positivity that I gave her the title “Director of First Impressions.”

Today, I’m eight months post‑surgery and four months post‑radiation. My facial movement is mostly restored, my taste is back, and while dry mouth will probably be a lifelong nuisance, it’s manageable. Radiation even took care of shaving one side of my face—so I guess that saves money on shaving cream.

Most importantly, my follow‑up PET scan showed no evidence of metastatic disease. God bless.

For anyone just starting this journey, my advice is simple: be a fierce advocate for yourself. Learn everything you can. Ask questions until you’re satisfied. Work closely with your nurse navigator, and meet with dietitians, social workers, and physical therapists early. Make things happen—don’t wait for them to happen.