Reading Time: 8 Minutes
Takeaways:
- Multidisciplinary collaboration and persistence can uncover innovative treatment paths, even when standard options carry life-altering consequences.
- Personalized care—grounded in both technical precision and human connection—can preserve not just life, but identity and purpose.
Impact: Huntsman Cancer Institute combines expertise, research, and compassion to create individualized solutions—expanding what’s possible for patients facing the most complex and high-stakes diagnoses.
As a Boeing 737 simulator instructor and pilot, Bev Barge depended on his voice in ways most people rarely have to consider. It was central to how he taught, how he led, and how he connected. So, when he began to notice subtle changes in the fall of 2022—his voice cracking as he tilted his head back to read overhead panels, a roughness that hadn’t been there before—he paid attention, even if at first it seemed easy to explain away.
“At the time, I thought it might just be dry air,” he recalls. “But my wife noticed it too, and it just didn’t go away.”
By November, he scheduled an appointment with an ENT in Bozeman, Montana. Within days of that initial visit, Amanda Kull, MD, performed a surgical biopsy, moving quickly out of concern. Not long after, she confirmed what neither of them had hoped to hear: Bev had squamous cell carcinoma on his right vocal cord.
A Call That Changed the Timeline
Dr. Kull’s connection to Huntsman Cancer Institute would shape everything that followed. Having completed her residency there, she understood both the urgency of Bev’s situation and the level of care available, and she immediately recommended that he seek a consultation—or at least a second opinion. More than that, she helped make it happen.
Just three weeks later, in late December 2022, Bev met with radiation oncologist Ying Hitchcock, MD, FASTRO, who quickly set a plan in motion. In a landscape where cancer treatment can often take months to begin, Bev found himself starting radiation therapy by mid-January.
“She put me on the fast track,” he says, still struck by how quickly things moved once the right team was in place.
Precision Treatment, Personal Care
Radiation therapy lasted six weeks, requiring both technical precision and daily endurance, but what stands out most to Bev is not just the treatment itself—it’s the people who delivered it. The radiation therapists, whom he refers to as “the team in the vault,” balanced clinical excellence with something just as important: genuine human connection.
“They had to be incredibly precise, and they were,” he says. “But they also took the time to get to know me, to make it personal.”
That connection showed up in small but meaningful ways, including a tradition they called “Taylor Tuesdays,” where music filled the treatment space—James Taylor for Bev, Taylor Swift for the team. It was a simple idea, but one that transformed an intimidating experience into something more manageable, even comforting.
“They were upbeat, professional, and friendly. It was clear they cared about me, not just the treatment.”
The Words Every Patient Hopes to Hear
By early March 2023, Bev had completed radiation therapy, and in May, after follow-up imaging and exams, he returned to Huntsman Cancer Institute to review the results with Dr. Hitchcock. That day brought the kind of news that redefines everything that comes after it.
Cancer free.
“What a great day,” he says, simply.
For the next year and a half, life began to settle back into its familiar rhythms—work, family, and time spent doing the things he loved most, both in the air and at home.
“I spent 10 years in the Air Force. I graduated from the Air Force Academy. I did a tour at the Pentagon. I’ve basically flown every type of plane—and I still fly my Cessna 182.”
When Cancer Came Back
In September 2024, during a routine follow-up appointment in Bozeman, Dr. Kull noticed another growth during a scope exam. What made it especially unsettling was that Bev hadn’t experienced any symptoms this time; his voice hadn’t signaled that anything was wrong.
Surgery was scheduled to remove the growth, and the biopsy revealed a more aggressive diagnosis: spindle cell cancer.
When Bev returned to meet again with Dr. Hitchcock, the recommendation reflected the seriousness of the disease. The standard course of action in cases like his—particularly following prior radiation—was a total laryngectomy, the complete removal of the voice box.
The implications were immediate and deeply personal. Losing his voice would mean losing not only a core part of his identity, but also his ability to teach, to communicate freely, and to engage in the life he loved.
A Life Without a Voice
Later that same day, Bev met with head and neck surgeon Hilary McCrary, MD, MPH, to begin discussing what a total laryngectomy would involve. The care team moved thoughtfully, even bringing in a speech therapist to help him understand what life after surgery might look like.
It was thorough, compassionate, and necessary—but something didn’t sit right.
Bev found himself asking a question that would ultimately change everything: Were there any other options?
Dr. McCrary didn’t offer a quick answer, and she didn’t dismiss the question. Instead, she made a commitment.
“She told me she would research it and let me know,” Bev says. “At the time, I don’t think I fully understood how much that would mean.”
The Question That Changed Everything
What followed was an extraordinary effort rooted in both clinical expertise and genuine determination to find the best possible path forward for one patient. Dr. McCrary began an extensive search, reviewing literature, consulting colleagues, and exploring options that extended beyond standard protocols.
“She went above and beyond,” Bev says. “She spent hours researching and collaborating to see what might be possible.”
When his case was presented at Tumor Board, the initial set of options reflected the complexity of his situation: do nothing, pursue a chordotomy, proceed with a total laryngectomy, or consider a vertical partial laryngectomy. Each option carried significant trade-offs, many of which would dramatically affect Bev’s quality of life and his ability to continue in his profession.
Rather than accept those limitations, the team continued to push further.
Building the Right Team for One Patient
Dr. McCrary expanded the team, bringing in additional specialists including Marcus Monroe, MD, and Breanne Schiffer, MD, MPH, forming what Bev would come to call the “Dream Team.” Together, they combined their expertise to search for a solution that could both treat the cancer effectively and preserve what mattered most to Bev.
“The team is important to me. As a pilot, you have authority, but you’re always willing to expand your team. In that way, I think pilots are like surgeons.”
Through continued research and collaboration, they identified a rarely performed and highly complex surgical approach—one that had largely fallen out of common use due to the narrow criteria required for success.
Bev, however, met those criteria.
Healthy, active, and highly motivated to preserve his voice, he represented a unique opportunity to revisit and adapt this approach using modern techniques and a highly coordinated surgical team.
A Rare Procedure, Reimagined
The proposed procedure—a vertical partial laryngectomy with a temporoparietal free flap—was as complex as its name suggests, requiring careful planning and seamless coordination among multiple surgeons.
“The amount of time and energy they put into preparing for the surgery was incredible,” Bev says. “Each of them met with me, walked me through the risks, and made sure I understood everything.”
Those conversations were not just informational; they were foundational, building the trust that would carry Bev into the operating room with confidence.
“They made me feel like I could put my life and livelihood in their hands,” he says.
In November 2024, the team performed the surgery, working for 10 hours in a coordinated effort that reflected both technical mastery and deep preparation. It marked a milestone not only for Bev, but for Huntsman Cancer Institute as well.
“It was the first type of this surgery ever performed at Huntsman Cancer Institute,” he says. “I give God the glory, but the surgeons get the credit.”
The procedure was not simply executed; it was tailored—carefully designed to remove all cancerous tissue while preserving Bev’s ability to speak.
“They custom built the solution for me,” he says. “They found a way to retain my voice and still do what needed to be done.”
The Hardest Climb
Recovery was long and demanding, requiring resilience across every dimension—physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. Bev spent weeks in the ICU, unable to speak and relying on a small board to communicate, while his body adjusted and healed.
“At the Air Force Academy, we do SERE training—survive, evade, resist, escape. You learn to have the courage to move forward and not quit. That training really helped me through this.”
There were additional procedures, adjustments to ensure proper airway function, and moments that tested his endurance in ways few experiences can. In those hardest stretches, his faith became both a steadying force and a source of resolve. One verse, in particular, carried him forward: Ephesians 3:20–21. It became both a battle cry and a declaration of hope—reminding him that even in uncertainty, more was possible than he could see.
Yet throughout it all, he remained focused on what he was working toward—not just survival, but a return to the life he valued.
More Than Medicine
Looking back, Bev sees his experience as something far greater than a series of treatments or procedures. It was, in his words, a comprehensive approach to care that treated him as a whole person.
“In my three-and-a-half-year journey through cancer, the team at Huntsman Cancer Institute didn’t just treat the disease—they treated me”
That care extended across disciplines and roles, from physicians and nurses to therapists, social workers, and countless others who contributed to an environment that felt deeply personal.
“They all truly care about your health and well-being,” he says. “It never felt institutional. It felt human.”
A Voice That Still Leads
Today, Bev has returned to work, serving as a pilot liaison for Delta in the airport customer control center in Salt Lake City, where he collaborates with teams across departments to navigate complex situations and support operations. He continues to teach, maintaining a passion that has defined much of his life.
“Without my voice, this work would be an impossibility,” he says. “I still do all the same Montana things. I have no pain with eating, and there was no saliva or mucus tissue damage. I can still eat spicy foods and pizza.”
Because of the dedication, research, and collaboration of his care team, what once seemed inevitable became avoidable, and what once felt uncertain became possible.
Bev Barge’s journey is, at its core, a story about what can happen when expertise meets empathy, and when innovation is driven not just by possibility, but by purpose.
“Thanks to the successful surgery,” he says, “I’m not just a survivor—I’m a sur-thriver.”