“Showing up as you are is far more important than not showing up at all.”
On February 17, 2026, members of UNC-Chapel Hill’s Health and Humanities: An Interdisciplinary Venue for Exploration (HHIVE) Lab had the opportunity to speak with singer-songwriter Liz Lokre, professionally known as LOKRE, about her experience with Ramsay Hunt Syndrome. In this patient story, we’ll highlight Liz's experience with RHS, focusing on her diagnosis, the mental health impacts, and how she’s coped during the recovery process.
The experience Liz Lokre describes as the greatest test of her strength began with sudden, intense “icepick-like” pain in her head. She told us that this interview felt especially meaningful because it took place exactly three years after she first started experiencing symptoms. What began as this sudden pain quickly turned into a confusing and frightening medical journey. She initially went to walk-in clinics and, eventually, to the emergency room, where her symptoms were misdiagnosed and treated only as a pain issue. Because of this delay, she did not receive an immediate diagnosis of Ramsay Hunt Syndrome (RHS), which made an already overwhelming situation even more stressful.
In addition to the physical symptoms, Liz spoke honestly about the mental health challenges she faced. She described feeling depressed during the height of her illness and shared how exhausting it was to constantly advocate for herself within the healthcare system. At the same time, she emphasized how important mental health support was in her recovery. Friends, community, and reframing her experience in a more hopeful way all played a major role in helping her move forward. Liz’s story highlights not only the medical realities of Ramsay Hunt Syndrome but also the emotional strength and resilience it takes to navigate such a life-changing diagnosis.
The journey to getting diagnosed with RHS was tricky, uncertain, and left Liz with more questions than answers, at least initially. Liz was first misdiagnosed with a temporomandibular joints disorder, commonly known as TMJ, and then with trigeminal neuralgia at walk-in clinics before presenting to the emergency room (ER) with persistent pain and shingles on her ear. The day after her ER visit, she began to experience facial paralysis. She recalled, “I woke up, and I couldn't feel my tongue on one side, and I recognized that feeling from when the onset of Bell's palsy happened,” something she’d had years prior. She noted that the first line of treatment focused primarily on pain management but also included other treatments. She was given strong acetaminophen and gabapentin for pain and, once at the hospital, valacyclovir to help treat the shingles. In addition, she was prescribed steroids to help her body overcome the paralysis, which luckily turned out to be a helpful line of treatment for RHS before the doctors knew she had it. Liz had to wait several months before finally getting treated for RHS.
Liz talked about how frustrating it was that there wasn’t a “magic wand” to speed up the healing process because she was willing to try anything that might fast-track her recovery. For example, she had acupuncture treatments and tried all the facial exercises she could find online, but the main anecdotal advice she received was to “give it time.” Through telehealth appointments in both Canada, where she is from, and the US, Liz met with several neurologists, each with different treatment approaches. As she searched for care outside Canada, Liz found a doctor who worked best for her and who offered in-person visits, as telehealth was not ideal. Liz expressed gratitude for the compassionate care she eventually received, especially from providers who had personal experience with facial palsy and could empathize with what she was going through. Her RHS treatment included steroids and antivirals, as well as the acupuncture and facial exercises she incorporated. Ultimately, Liz feels she regained about 75% of the motion on the affected side of her face.
Liz has learned to accept and embrace her new life with RHS with time, but it has been far from easy. It has required a great deal of acceptance and inner work on her part, including practices such as affirmations and positive self-talk. During the initial period of figuring out what was going on, Liz relied on her sister’s research efforts, as the first doctors she saw were not trained to diagnose RHS. Liz shared that it was easy to feel like a number during this period. Being in a public-facing career, it was challenging for her to embrace her appearance after facial paralysis. While her face has gradually recovered, Liz still notices ways she looks different from before RHS, even when the differences are not immediately noticeable to others. Despite these challenges, Liz has been determined to keep up her career, and she has become a voice of hope and resilience. Liz has prioritized staying positive and making the most of her life with RHS. Liz noted many ways that she has grown through this experience, some of them being what she has learned about the realities of pain and her own strength.
Photographer credit: Gilad Cohen
During our conversation, Liz expressed gratitude for her experience building community during her RHS journey. As a public-facing performer, she chose to share her diagnosis openly through a video campaign, which she felt was a positive initial step. Being brave and transparent aligned with her message to “come as you are; it's okay to be not okay.” She also felt that it was sometimes helpful to hear others’ experiences, but she has avoided internalizing negative feelings about the illness to remain positive. She described a meaningful moment that occurred during her tour when, after a performance, someone in a wheelchair approached her and said, “Thank you for representing us.” She had never imagined representing disability but felt that it was a beautiful thing and reflected that “showing up as you are is far more important than not showing up at all.”
Liz’s family has been immensely supportive throughout her RHS journey, and she told us that her sister, a scholar-researcher by training, has been her rock. In fact, it was her sister who first learned about the UNC Facial Nerve Center, where she ultimately received treatment. Liz reflected that when people show up for you, it makes you want to return the favor, and “it shows who your community is.” Liz hopes to raise awareness of RHS, especially the importance of early recognition and treatment, to prevent others from feeling isolated in the way she did. She also hopes to continue building community and visibility for others navigating RHS. For people newly diagnosed, she offers reassurance, stating that although this journey may be one of the hardest to face, they are most certainly not alone.
To hear more from Liz, check out an interview she did with Jack.org, a Canadian mental-health organization, in 2023: https://youtu.be/3rKlZijF3Nc?si=rIqLO7jqUUn4loyV.
On her Instagram, Liz has also shared a poem about her RHS experience, titled “When I Lost My Biggest Smile.”
You can read it below or watch her recite the poem by clicking the following link:
https://www.instagram.com/p/DU54u-4jofM/?hl=en.
When I lost my biggest smile,
the one that shows my teeth
I had to figure out how to love what's underneath.
It's kind of crooked now, like one side's incomplete.
The doctors say that Botox could make that more discreet.
But there's something kind of pretty
about my squinted eye.
The way I can't lift my cheek no matter how I try.
And of all the things I've lost, this is the last thing I thought
would make me feel more grateful for everything I've got.
When I lost my biggest smile,
the one that shows my teeth
I finally figured out how to love what's underneath.
Editor’s Note: Please note that RHSF is not directly affiliated with or supported by the UNC Facial Nerve Center.
By Olivia Hankinson, Jenny Horton, Vineeta Pasala, Tara Penman, Nedda Seif, and Meera Swaminathan




