Part 2 Operation Jelly: The Sequel

🎯

the vacant look is shock

It’s been a few days since the op, and I’ve finally graduated from “confused patient in a gown” to “man in my PJs watching The Chase with a bowl of trifle.” Progress.

But let’s rewind. Because last Monday was quite something.

🏥 Mission: Cancer Extraction

I arrived at the hospital feeling like a man on a mission. A terrified, slightly dehydrated, undercaffeinated mission. The plan? Laser surgery to remove anything untoward left where my right tonsil (the sneaky one that was harbouring HPV-positive cancer cells) used to live, and a neck dissection to evict some lymph nodes from the premises. And give everything a proper spring clean.

Let’s just say I wasn’t feeling too James Bond that morning — more Mr Bean with a pre-op wristband. Still, the staff were calm, kind, and incredibly efficient. I signed a few forms, answered a hundred questions, and resisted the urge to ask if I could forget it and go home.

Then it was lights out.

💥 Surgery Complete (and Bonus Features)

I woke up with a throat that felt like it had been power-washed by an angry hedgehog. Not only was the rogue tonsil area gone, but they’d also removed a lot of lymph nodes via a neck dissection — leaving me with a dramatic scar and some unexpected extras:

• A numb right ear, which feels like someone else’s stuck it on the wrong head

• A slightly dropped lip that gives me a permanent “meh” expression

• A weird tightness in the neck, like I’m wearing an invisible cravat.

• A sense of humour, intact and ready to be mildly inappropriate again

torture? no life saving

🧁 Recovery: Powered by Jelly, Toast, and Weird Dreams

Back home, I entered the sacred recovery phase of doing it all over again: soft food, strong meds, and lots of “You OK?” texts. I’ve eaten more jelly in one week than I have since Year 4 school dinners. Add in to come in the future scrambled eggs, custard, mashed potato, and the occasional cold baked bean, and you’ve got a gourmet menu designed by a 5-year-old and my throat.

Sleep is patchy. Energy comes in 90-minute bursts. My lip still doesn’t know whose face it belongs to. And I’ve learned the hard way that laughing hurts (but is still worth it).

🧴 Neck Care 101

The neck scar is healing well, and I’ve been taking care of it like it’s a prized bonsai. Daily gentle washes, keeping the scar dry, avoiding sun exposure, and resisting the urge to scratch it like mad. It’s oddly satisfying seeing it settle down — like my body’s slowly closing the chapter.

🗓️ What Comes Next?

I’m back at ENT next Thursday to find out whether I’ll need radiotherapy. The team say it’s a possibility, depending on what the pathology from surgery shows. If I do, I’ll take it on the chin (and neck). If not, I’ll take it as a win and ask if I get a sticker.

The PET scan I had was all clear, which is brilliant news for something like this— so if there’s any lingering concern, it's local. That gives me confidence, and from what I’ve read and heard, the odds are firmly in my favour.

💬 On the Emotional Front

This has been a ride. And I don’t just mean the hospital trolleys or the post-op hallucination where I thought my friends were all needing me to message them, even though I was high as a kite. There’ve been moments of fear, doubt, full-on Googling spirals, and waking up at 3 am wondering if I’m going to be OK. But throughout it all, the support has been incredible.

From Lou (my absolute rock), to my sons, Sister and dad, to friends old and new, and the brilliant people on the Macmillan Head & Neck Cancer forum — you’ve reminded me that I’m not going through this alone.

Thank you for the tips, humour, reassurance and sheer bloody kindness. You’ve no idea how much it’s helped.

💻 The Lethal Pasty Lives On

For anyone following along, I’ll keep sharing the journey right here — the good, the bad, and the downright daft. Because if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that a bit of honesty, humour, and a well-placed jelly joke can go a long way.

Until next time, I’ll be in my dressing gown, sipping lukewarm tea and Googling “how to smile evenly with one lip.”

And my final thing is LISTEN to your body, if you have any lumps or bumps, please get them checked. 90% of them are nothing at all. You will be worried and scared, but it's worth it

Much love,

Ash