I sat in a hospital lobby last week to meet a woman who I believed could teach me about what it takes to survive. She got dealt a lousy hand, had every reason to quit but didn't.

In 2005, Becky Roth's dentist discovered a white spot on her tongue. It was benign, but five years later another spot led to the discovery of a tumor at the base of her tongue and jaw.

"She had what I call old-man's disease," said Dr. Bryan Bell, co-director of the head and neck cancer program and clinic at Providence Cancer Institute. "Most patients are men in their 70s who've spent their lives drinking and smoking."

Roth, now 54, never smoked, rarely drank and was in excellent physical shape.

"This was a genetic accident," Bell said. "The survival rate from this kind of reoccurring kind of cancer is low. Becky met this journey with grace and courage. The patient taught me, the doctor, something."

Perhaps she can do the same for all of us.

When the cancer returned, Roth waited in an examination room for Bell to tell her what the tests had revealed.

"He looked defeated and sad, which scared me, because all I'd ever seen of this man was hope, confidence and optimism," Roth said. "When he told me the cancer was back and more aggressive than before, I told him I felt like I was going to throw up. He said, 'So do I.'"

The cancer had spread to the floor of her mouth, the tongue and deeper into the jaw. She had multiple surgeries and treatments, but it came back again the next year and was even more invasive.

Over the course of six days, Roth had four surgeries. She nearly died on the operating room table. Her jaw was rebuilt using tissue and a bone from her leg. She had to undergo extensive therapy to relearn how to walk, speak and eat.

For now, she's cancer free. But her body is no longer the same. This week, she and her doctor discussed a surgery to fix a device implanted in a portion of her jaw to take the place of bone.

Why she hasn't she surrendered?

"You have to find why you want to live," she said. "To just survive is not enough. I fought for my two kids and my husband."

It rankles Roth when she's described as heroic, a word that often appears in stories about someone fighting an illness.

"My doctors are my heroes," she said. "They overpowered cancer as it tried to defeat me. I am in awe of what countless doctors and nurses did to save my life. No one had to fight as hard as they did, but they did. My husband is my hero. He walked every step of the way holding my hand and advocating for me when I couldn't."

Her ability to speak continues to improve with help from a speech pathologist. But she's different. Roth, a classroom assistant who works with children who have autism, said the acceptance of her students helped her.

"I relate to them," she said. "These special kids are more forgiving than adults. When they ask me why I talk funny, I tell them my tongue and jaw were sick. They give me a hug."

What she dealt with, she said honestly, was horrible and hard. She learned that humans aren't meant to go through life alone. The strong silent types won't survive.

"There are people placed in your life to help you along the way," she said. "You just have to keep your eyes and heart open and take the helping hand and the love when they are offered."

She set up a CaringBridge journal, for example, which now has 42,000 entries. Each day, her husband would read aloud what people wrote to her. She found comfort that so many people were rooting for her.

But there's an implied contract.

"In turn, you must love and support others in whatever capacity you are able to," Roth said. So, she shares her story in the chance that someone she may never meet will find hope.

"Every stage of life offers a challenge," she said. "It can be medical, or it can be personal. We are all the same. We must learn to rise to the challenge. It's not always easy."

Roth has discovered she's stronger and braver than she ever thought possible. She focuses on what's important in life, not worrying about things that don't matter, or that she can't control.

It's frightening, she said, to think of the toll the cancer took on her: Bones removed from parts of both legs, a scar on her neck from ear to ear -- the result of surgeons needing complete access to her mouth.

"And that's just what you can see from the outside," Roth said.

What remains untouched, she said, is her heart and soul.

"I am a fighter," she said.

-- Tom Hallman Jr.

thallman@oregonian.com; 503 221-8224

@thallmanjr