Head and neck cancer is a story of failed interactions and isolation. Communicating without a tongue, a broken jaw and limited mouth movement means conversation becomes fraught. Words do not come out in the way you want them to and speaking becomes hard work because articulation is physically challenging. My voice is weak and my words are sometimes unclear. I can always tell when someone hasn’t understood me - there’s often a confused glance, an awkward smile, a polite nod. I have to ration language now and choose words carefully. I plan ahead for situations most people enter without a second thought. But conversation is usually spontaneous, and that’s where I struggle most. Getting the words out is difficult, even though my head is still full of ideas, observations, humour and fluency. And that’s the thing: in my mind, I am still fully fluent. I can hear myself speaking like I used to - with power, punch and wit. The voice inside my head has not changed but head and neck cancer pushes you to the edges of interaction - a lot of the time it is easier not to speak at all, not because I have nothing say but because saying it has become stressful and immensely frustrating. Please continue to support me at gofund.me/34ab6cc47