I saw a kid the other day with purple hair, tatoos, baggy pants (the total punk look) he had pins and rings in his ears, nose, lips, tongue and who knows where. I was standing with a friend of mine, who said to the kid "why would you purposely punch that many holes in your self?" The kid lit a cigarette and said he just likes being different "the more holes the better".

My friend pointed to me and said "as far as holes are concerned this guy has you beat". The kid looks me up and down blows out some smoke and says "yeah right" I held up my index finger which got his attention and said "keep smoking and you may catch up with me" pointing toward my neck. I took off my scarf, and the kid's jaw dropped. I put my scarf back on and said one word "cigarettes", and flagged down a cab.

One year after Bob had his surgery, we were checking out of a hotel after a wonderful vacation and the receptionist at the desk asked Bob for some information about our nights stay. As soon as Bob started to speak, the woman looked horrified at me and said ... "You better get this man some honey and lemon to gargle with ... he has the worse case of larangitis I have ever heard".

I proceeded to ask her where the nearest store was so I could buy it for him. She was almost ready to drive me to the store. We thanked her and as we were leaving, she called us back to the desk and handed Bob some throat lozenges and said, "here, take these until your wife can get the honey for you, honey". We laughed all the way to the airport.

It began as an innocent trip, a few friends heading up to Mount Washington for the hike up. Problem is, we never do anything the easy way; whether its jumping out of a plane or white water rafting, there's always a twist.

This time, the twist was Bob (he always does things with a twist or is part of the twist). Climbing up to the top of Mount Washington Peak is no easy task, for anyone.When we started the climb from base to summit there were 5 of us. Three of us had climbed the mountain before , Bob the laryngectomee,neck breather and I had never experienced the task at hand.Despite not being able to breathe through his nose or mouth,he and I climbed and to the summit at 6,288 feet above sea level. He was cold and out of breath through much of the climb and was determined to continue no matter what.. I stayed close to him usually 10 to 50 feet above and in front.It was a beautiful sight cresting the mountain and seeing the observatory at the summit.His wife had nervously driven to the summit and was there to greet us. Hot soup awaited us at the top and beer and champagne were enjoyed on the windy steep descent by car a few hours later. Bob gives me all the credit for getting him to the top,but told him I stayed with him, I didn't carry him....Ron Leclair

This is a true story written by Tammy Wigginton. She is a Speech Language Pathologist, fellow WW member and someone I respect and consider a friend. This story was published on 12/5/2007 in Headlines Quarterly and sent via email to Webwhispers Inc club members. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I do…………Bob Herbst > The Sisters by Tammy Wigginton, SLP "Please just pick it up and look at it....just try it (artificial larynx)". I had been pleading with her for 3 days. Our eyes met briefly. I saw her lower lip trembling. The tears, which filled her eyes, finally overflowed the lashes and splashed down on to her swollen cheeks. She put her palms up towards me and defiantly turned her head side to side. That is definitely the universal "back off sign". She then turned away. She was silently sobbing. It was all she could do. No noise. No cathartic perceptible wails or sniffles just jagged deep breaths and the sound of mucus being sucked in and out of her new stoma. There is no good way to prepare a patient for this experience. You tell them they will not have a voice but nobody really gets that no voice box also means no laughter and no audible cry until they find themselves in that situation. I felt tears welling up in my eyes too; tears of empathy and compassion for her and frustration at myself. I bit the inside of my cheek a little to help snap myself out of it. It won't do her any good to see me crying....very unprofessional. Why can't I reach her? I tried to offer a pat or a hug. She was not having any of that. I skulked back to the nurses' station to document my failure on her chart. As I composed my note, I heard a husky smoker's voice asking for my patient's room. I went over to speak to the woman with the whiskey voice. She looked so much like my patient but a little older and perhaps a little worse for the wear. She was in fact my patients' sister. She had just arrived from out of town. I gave her an overly long explanation of the problem. I prattled on and on: "throat cancer", "total laryngectomy", "a hole in her neck", "stoma", "suctioning, "feeding tube", "needs to learn to care for herself!, "needs to learn to speak again!", "discharge up in the air", "who will help her care for her?????" I tattled! "She won't work with me or the nurses!" Whew! I released all of my frustrations on this road weary lady who had just traveled God only knows how many miles. What a rookie I was. Do you have any questions? She said, "No". "Really, no question at all"? "Are you sure you understand?" I searched the woman's face for some clue she understood anything I said. She looked at me and said, "uh huh" and took off toward her sister's room. I tagged along behind her as she walked down the hall. She went into the room and I stood out side the door and fiddled with supplies. I was spying, but trying to look busy. The sister's eyes met. No warm embrace. No "how are you feeling?" She started in immediately. "Hey, that speech girl says you ain't even trying to learn how to take care of yourself or nothin". She pointed out into the hall and I ducked. Oops! Maybe I shouldn't have tattled. That is not exactly how I thought she was going to handle the situation. My patient shrugged her shoulders. I am pretty sure she was thinking; "So what or bite me!" They sized each other up for a couple of minutes. If the older sister was shocked to see her baby sister with a hole in her neck, drains, IV's and a big blue tube with humidified air aimed right at the hole in her neck, I certainly couldn't tell it. What a poker face! Finally my patient started looking for her pad and paper amongst the dirty tissue, empty saline bullets and the up until now untouched laryngectomee paraphernalia I had given her. She wrote... "How do I look?" Her sister read this. Without missing a beat, she unbuttoned her rumpled and worn denim shirt with the Tasmanian Devil on the pocket to reveal a concave chest with two long scars and a mangled tattoo that at one time may have been a butterfly. Where the breasts had once been there was now nothing but faded scars and the unmistakably leathery skin one can only get from a radiation therapy. She told her sister....."You look like a friggin' survivor! THAT IS HOW YOU LOOK!!" Gasp! "Oh crap, she dropped the "f" bomb. I covered my eyes and thought "Oh no! What have I done?" I heard a lot of noise so I peeked out from between my fingers to survey the damage. They were both laughing and crying at the same time. One sister laughed and cried silently. The other laughed and cried loud enough for two people. They hugged. It was not a gentle hug. It was a great big, hard hug and they rocked from side to side. Tubes were squished and lines were pulled. Tears and stoma juice was flying and neither one of them cared a bit. What a relief! Someone had finally reached her. As I closed the door to give them the privacy they should have had from the get go, I saw an older and wiser sister walking her baby sister to the mirror. "If you want to know how you look, get up off your ass and go look in the mirror". "Your hair looks like hell...haven't you even bothered to drag a comb through this mess? "For God's sake!" "Let me help you". You know you talked too much anyway.....now maybe I will get a chance to talk". "Hey, guess who is getting a divorce......? And life goes on........... As I walked away, I thought, "She won't be able to last long without talking back. Maybe, tomorrow, she'll be ready."......................................................................................................................... Tammy Wiggington