LEWISTON — The tumor in Eagle Farrington’s throat had grown so large that his doctor didn’t know how he was still breathing.

Biopsies had not been helpful, but certain things were clear: The tumor was large, it was growing and it was taking over Farrington’s voice box.

To save his life, doctors told him, they’d have to remove his voice box, and with it his ability to talk.

“You gotta do what?” Farrington asked, incredulous.

Ultimately, he agreed to the surgery. If he wanted to live, he figured, he didn’t have much of a choice. So in 2015, Farrington lost his voice.

But not for long.

It’s not the same, and it wasn’t easy, but the Lewiston man taught himself to speak, eschewing more common mechanical help in favor of a homemade method that involves small gulps of air and a handful of words riding on expelled breath. As recoveries go, his was unusual.

He is, he said, proof that there is hope after cancer.

“It was tough at first,” said Farrington, 51. “But I was like, ‘I got this.’”

DIAGNOSIS

Farrington is no stranger to health problems.

He spent part of his childhood in a body cast because a ball joint in his hip was deformed and one of his legs had stopped growing. As an adult, he developed a degenerative bone disease that left him disabled.

It taught him, he said, perseverance.

“So, yeah, I’ve been through it,” he said.

But in 2013, Farrington experienced something new: hoarseness. He thought it might be a cold, maybe something else. But he couldn’t shake it.

“I wasn’t sure what it was,” he said. “I just knew something wasn’t right.”

Doctors diagnosed him with vocal cord cancer.

Most people with that cancer do well with radiation or a radiation-and-chemotherapy combination. And, for a time, so did Farrington. But one day a couple of years later, he began to have trouble swallowing.

At Central Maine Medical Center in Lewiston, one of the doctors looked at Farrington and said he he didn’t know how he was still breathing. A tumor was encroaching on his larynx, the area of the throat used when talking, swallowing or breathing.

Doctors ordered an emergency tracheotomy — surgery to create a hole in Farrington’s throat so he could breathe.

“Excuse my language, I was scared as f—,” Farrington said.

While the tracheotomy bought Farrington a little time, it didn’t take care of the  tumor. Multiple biopsies did not result in a diagnosis, but the mass was there and growing.

“No one could figure out what the hell was going on,” Farrington said.

Given Farrington’s previous vocal cord cancer, it seemed likely that this was cancer, too.

“It just kept getting worse,” said Farrington’s doctor, Norris Lee, a head and neck surgeon with Central Maine Ear, Nose, & Throat, Head and Neck Surgery in Lewiston. “You see basically parts of his voice box being eaten away. It’s like, this can’t be anything but cancer.”

Doctors rarely allow a second round of radiation when neck cancer reoccurs. Patients receive all of the radiation their normal tissues can stand the first time around.

“Radiation’s coming at you from all directions, so your spine is getting some. We don’t want the spine to get too much,” Lee said. More radiation risks paralysis.

So Lee, who specializes in head and neck cancers, recommended surgery. It was a last resort and it wouldn’t be simple. Doctors would have to remove Farrington’s entire larynx, or voice box. Because the larynx includes the windpipe, which is needed to breathe, they would have to make the tracheotomy permanent, forever giving Farrington a hole in his throat.

He would no longer be able to breathe through his nose or mouth.

He would no longer be able to smell.

He would lose his vocal cords, which sit within the larynx. He would no longer be able to talk normally.

The surgery would take about 15 hours. At the end of it, Farrington was cancer-free, but life as he knew it had changed.

“I couldn’t eat (at first). I had to stay in bed. I couldn’t take care of myself,” he said. “Once I started feeling better, I was like, ‘That’s it. I’m not taking this crap anymore.’”

RECOVERY

When it came to speaking, Farrington had options.

He could get an electrolarynx, a small device that is held under the jaw and uses vibrations to allow the user to speak. It’s probably best known for the monotone, robotic-like speech it produces.

He could also get a device that’s placed in the mouth. It, too, uses vibrations for speech.

Farrington didn’t like those options.

“I was told I could get one of those, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,” he said, then stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry in dismissal.

“They’re not me,” he added. “I’m way too stubborn.”

Farrington went to a few speech therapy appointments, then stopped. He decided to teach himself how to talk again.

After a short time, he found he could suck air into his esophagus and then force it back up, vibrating his throat enough to carry a handful of words.

“I call this burp talking,” Farrington said.

His first recognizable speech: the alphabet.

“That was a big step,” he said. “That’s when I started realizing that if I could say the alphabet, I could talk again.”

It took one and a half to two years before he could speak well enough to hold a conversation.

Farrington’s method wasn’t new. It’s called esophageal speech, and people who lost their larynxes often tried it before electronic devices were available. But patients tend to need training to do it and some can never get it to work for them.

“He did a very good job of learning how to talk,” Lee said.

Although it can sound painful, Farrington’s new way of talking doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t need to hold a device, like an electrolarynx, so his hands are free when he talks. Sentences can be halting, but Farrington’s words are pretty easily understood, even by strangers.

His newfound speech so wowed doctors that Central Maine Healthcare, the parent of Central Maine Medical Center and Lee’s medical practice, featured Farrington in an ad to promote Lee and its ear, nose and throat specialists. The October ad was titled “More than words!”

Lee, too, was so impressed that he began asking Farrington to speak to other patients. So far, Farrington has met with a couple of patients facing the same situation.

“They have appreciated learning how that impacts a life and how your life doesn’t end,” Lee said. “It has reassured people. I pretty much make that offer (of Farrington) to everyone who is going to lose their voice box.”

For Farrington, who also volunteered for the Dempsey Challenge this past year, it’s support he enjoys giving.

“I showed them it’s not the end. It’s a new beginning,” he said.

Three years after his surgery, Farrington remains cancer-free. His days are filled with playing with his granddaughter, spending time with his fiancee and, once in a while, talking with cancer patients who come to him, just as terrified as he was.

He decided to tell his story publicly, he said, because he wants people to know there is hope after a scary diagnosis.

He’s proof.

“I want to spread the word,” he said. “It don’t matter what happens. Never give up.”

ltice@sunjournal.com

 

 

Eagles adorn most every wall and shelf in Eagle Farrington’s Lewiston apartment. (Sun Journal photo by Russ Dillingham)

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