Woman with tongue cancer using tictok to learn how to speak (exclusively)

• In December 2023 Beth Riehle began to experience a serious migraine that never disappeared
• From there, things were gradually aggravated. The 35-year-old, who lived in Austin, began to notice pain in her ear and jaw, discoloration of her tongue and difficulties to eat
• Eventually, March 11, 2024, Riehle was diagnosed with squamous cell cancer, the most common form of heavy cancer
• On November 26, 2024, Riehle underwent an almost total gloss sectomy, neck dissection and heavy reinstruct

Beth Riehle was at the height of his career. At 35 years she worked in Austin, she worked at a boutique hotel for interior design, bartending and designed cocktails for their drink programs with several million dollars. But in December 2023, everything changed when she began to experience a serious migraine that never disappeared.

From there, things were gradually aggravated. Riehle began to notice pain in the ear and jaw, discoloration of the tongue and difficulties to eat. She initially attributed to these symptoms to her TMJ and nightly teeth grinding. Her primary care physician, uncertain about the cause, suggested that she see an ENT (ears, nose and throat) physician.

One Friday she went to her first ENT meeting alone. She reminds to sit in the chair when the doctor came in, examined the tongue and immediately said: “We have to make a biopsy.” Riehle asked, “When?” And the doctor replied, “Right now.”

“That was the moment I knew I was sick,” says Riehle exclusively. “She went on to perform a punch biopsy – with a sharp hole punch to gather cells. She told me that there was a little chance that it could be an autoimmunt condition that she was not familiar with, but warned that in her experience I looked like cancer. I spiral. I will never forget to call my mother.

“The only feeling I can remember was fear,” she adds. “At that time I thought it was anger, but now I realize it was just fear.”

On March 11, 2024, Riehle was diagnosed with squamous cell cancer, the most common form of heavy cancer, according to Mayo Clinic. This type originates from the flat, the squamous cell cells that feed the surface of the tongue.

When Riehle was diagnosed, she asked the typical questions: what step is it? What did it cause? Has it spread? But since she was still early in the process, most of these issues went unanswered. Instead, she received two treatment options: surgery, which would remove the tumor but probably affect her speech and ability to swallow and eat the rest of her life; Or chemotherapy and radiation.

After consulting with a medical oncologist, she chose chemotherapy and radiation for the head and neck. Her first course of treatment involved 35 radiation sessions, Monday to Friday, for seven weeks, along with weekly chemotherapy.

“The radiation treated the whole mouth, neck and lymph nodes,” she says. “I was originally on Cisplatin chemotherapy, but after a couple of weeks of ringing in my ears they switched me to the carboplatin.”

“I didn’t have a feeding tube during the first treatment round,” she adds. “I lost the ability to eat solid food in the fourth week because of radiation burns. I have never been so hungry in my life. I was weak, tired and terrified. There is much you can endure, but I didn’t think I would survive not to eat for two months. It was long, hard days.”

On June 17, 2024, Riehle completed what she thought would be her only treatment round. That day she rang on the clock – symbolized the end of the treatment – but it wouldn’t be the last time. Two months later, she began to experience incredible sliding pain over her forehead and neck.

For starters, she assumed it was a delayed reaction to radiation. She went to the emergency room at the end of September, where she was held overnight for pain treatment and received a CT scan to check for clear margins. Her oncologist visited her at the hospital, but he too was not sure what caused the pain.

Four days later, Riehle learned that her cancer was treatment resistant and a second tumor had developed. Her medical team at Texas Oncology recommended that she seek care at the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston to explore clinical trials.

“When I found out the second tumor, I was heartbroken,” she says. “My spirit felt broken. Then the pain began. The tumor’s position caused pain, radiant behind my eyes around my head, in my ears and down my neck. I couldn’t move without screaming out in pain. My friends and family saw as I struggled in anxiety while waiting for surgery. It was the longest weeks in my life.

“When it all started, people would say to me: ‘You’re so strong’ or ‘You’re so brave.’ I would tell my hubby, Donald, “I don’t know why they believe it. But cancer has proven something else.

After consulting with a team of doctors at MD Anderson, Riehle was told that she would need a total gloss sectomy – surgery to remove some or all her tongue, as well as her lymph nodes. Given this, she admits that she thought she might never speak again.

Before her surgery, Riehle had searched for social media to find someone her age – or at least someone like that – who had undergone a gloss sectomy, but found a little. Everything she found was either a horror story or the story of someone who is much older.

“I actually asked my doctor not to” stumble “me or remove my voice,” she says. “Losing my voice felt like losing my life. I’m the high, the fun, the one who would quickly get a friend. That’s why I was happy in the service industry. So when I found out that I lost my voice it felt like someone took my life from me.”

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On November 26, 2024, Riehle underwent an almost total gloss sectomy, neck dissection and tongue structure. The 12-hour surgery removed 80% of her natural heavy and 75% of her lymph nodes. The doctors used muscles from her legs to reconstruct a “flap” to replace her tongue.

After the operation, when the doctors covered her tracheostomy and asked her to speak, she feared that nothing would come out. But to her surprise, her voice was still there. “I think I still sound like myself, but my speech is very different now,” she says.

“I will have a speech obstacle for the rest of my life. Some letters, such as C, D, G and TH, are harder to pronounce. I get frustrated and embarrassed, but it is still so new that I refuse to think that is how I sound forever.”

Since the operation, Riehle has been recovery. Her pathology report came back, and she does physical therapy twice a week, focusing on exercises such as cycling on a desktop bike or walking, using light weights or making body resistance movements for repetitive movement. Her speech therapy is similar, focused on texture. She swallows exercises and hopes that when her mouth has healed, she will be able to eat solid food again. At the moment she can only eat through her stick pipe.

During her recovery, Riehle found comfort in online shopping. “Honestly, shopping when you feel down is quite satisfying,” she says. “In addition, my body changed constantly, so I ordered a lot of clothes. I had lots of cute clothes and nowhere to go. I was also recently scared to the world.”

Then, one day, it went up for her that she could film Ootd (Dire of the Day) videos for TikTok where she would dress and show her clothes while she met her fear of public speaking and have all the videos to look back on and see her progress.

“I thought maybe if I put my story out there and used hashtags that I had looked up before my procedure” Glossectomy “and” heavy cancer “that I could help someone else my age,” she says. “That it would at least be me to show them what life can look like after the surgery.”

The day Riehle published her first video, she went alone to the mall. Inside a store, she asked a young woman for help with a suitable room. After repeatedly asked the woman finally looked at her and said, “Are you talking to me? I can’t understand a word you say.” Riehle put down his objects, went to her car and broke down for almost an hour before she could pull together to go home. “I thought I might never go anywhere again,” she recalls.

“That day, I decided that no one would make me feel so small again, not after everything I have gone through to stay alive,” she says. “Talk barriers or not, I deserve to take a seat in the world. People around me told me they could understand me and hear myself on video helped me see what sounds I’m struggling with. It forced me to slow down and think about what I want to say.”

Since then, Riehle has continued to publish continuous OOTD videos to share her story. Then, one day with her sister in Houston, she noticed an influx of friend requests and likes her video.

“I turned to my sister and said,” I think I am going viral, “she reminds, leaving that it all started thanks to a woman who found her site and made a video about her. Thanks to her, she has built a community with more than 63,000 followers.

“There is a lot of excitement,” she says. “At first, I was a little embarrassed that so many people would see me talk, but then I remembered why I did it: to be brave and show someone like me. Messages from people who had undergone something similar or had a speech obstacle or just struggled cancer began to flood in. I knew I had done the right thing. It really gave me joy.”

“I never imagined I would get this kind of reception when I started posting to practice my speech,” she continues. “It is overwhelming sometimes, but it feels like a gift to be a voice for the voters. The outreach I have received and the stories that people have shared with me have floated me. My trip helps others. I thought I would lose my voice, but now that I have found it again, I am determined to use it to help others.”

Riehle adds how she has had a handful of young women who have had gloss sectors to reach out to her, along with people whose mother or brother or sister went through it too. She says they tell her how when they see her share her story on Tiktok, they feel hopeful.

But a woman in particular who handed out, Riehle reminds, touched her to tears. The woman said she was watching her videos all morning while her mother was on surgery with her tongue reconstructed.

“Although I was nervous to all these people who looked, I knew I had actually done something worthwhile,” she says. “Many of the messages say I am an inspiration or that they are so proud of me, that they look up to me. And I appreciate it but I have a hard time believing that I am something other than a normal person who got a crap hand and does his best.”

“Recently, treatment has been extremely difficult and I am quite transparent with my followers about it,” she adds. “I will say that having them encourages me to continue is extremely special. Not because I do not have a support system, but to hear from strangers that you matter and that the world needs you … makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy.”