SCARS
BODY AND SOUL
Scars can be a reminder of a painful chapter in a person’s life, or a badge of honour from a situation survived, perhaps even a symbol of a journey still in motion. Attitude invites members of the LGBTQ+ community to share what their bodies have been through and why they’re more beautiful for it
Words Thomas Stichbury
Photography Francisco Gomez de Villaboa
MARC VALENTINE-MORTON
47 // MEDICALLY RETIRED FORMER ACTOR // HE/HIM
In December 2019, I found a lump on my neck on the left side of my Adam’s apple. Come January, it hadn’t gone and, indeed, felt a bit bigger, so I went to see my GP. He examined my neck and sat down, looking scared, and said, “I need to put you on an urgent thyroid cancer referral.”
Two weeks later, I saw my specialist and was sent for an ultrasound. I was chatting away with the sonographer when halfway through, she just stopped talking. I asked her what was wrong, and she said I had nodules in my thyroid. I said, “How many?” She replied, “Too many to count.” She told me, “I’m really sorry, you don’t want to hear this, but I think you have thyroid cancer.”
What followed was biopsies and more ultrasounds… and then an MRI. Two days after my MRI, my surgeon rang me and said he wanted to see me the next day. I said, “So, it’s definitely cancer then?” “Yes,” he replied.
He explained the thyroid tumour was the size of a large orange and that it had invaded my windpipe, my gullet and — here’s the killer — was in my larynx, all of which would have to be removed, leaving me with no voice box and breathing through a hole in my neck. Prior to this, I’d been a singer in musical theatre, a teacher, coach and facilitator, so my voice literally was my life.