Alien Doughnuts

Welcome back! It feels as though a lifetime has passed since I last updated you on my cancer story. In reality, it has only been eight days, and there really has been very little progress to report.

In my last blog, I shared with you my experience at the Radiation Oncology clinic. I feel as though we all walked away from that blog feeling optimistic that my prognosis should be relatively favorable in getting rid of this horrific disease. Over the last eight days, I have thought a lot about the faces I saw in that clinic. I try to imagine what my optimism might look like if I were one of those patients. I could be like that brilliant young man, full of life and seemingly oblivious to the fact he has a life threatening cancer. I might be like the elderly man that was sitting across from me. He was alone, and looked as if he had been fighting a decade long war; his optimism shattered. If I didn't know any better, I might be gullible to believe cancer is an alien life form that has taken control of my mind. Once you know it's there, it feels as though the cancer takes residence in every waking thought and every restless dream.

Eight days has felt like a long time after having seen what cancer can do to people. I'm still optimistic, but I have some rapidly growing concerns. When I first went to the dental clinic, my "callus" was barely the size of a pencil eraser. It was annoying at times, but completely manageable. Now, it is nearly the size of a marble and hurts constantly. Over the last couple days, I get a sharp pain that radiates down the side and to the tip of my tongue. My teeth are extremely sensitive, especially to anything hot. This really sucks because I can't part from my morning coffee and evening tea. I feel like Dr. House, popping Motrin every couple hours like it's candy. If the cancer doesn't kill me-having a busted liver might. I think about going to the doctors for assistance, but I can't get past the thought of one of them saying, "Dude... you have cancer. Duh!" It really is a waiting game.

I've also been on the phone a lot with my case manager trying to either secure more medical appointments, or coordinating TriCare referrals for those appointments-she truly has been an absolute hero throughout this entire ordeal. I have two appointments this week. The first is a computerized tomography (CT) scan, which I had today. (We'll get to that in a minute.) The second is for tomorrow morning, which is the one we have all been waiting for-the Otolaryngologist, i.e., the ENT surgeon at Banner UMC. So, progress has been made, but I simply have yet to receive any additional information that might clue us in on the status of this cancer. 

I had to work a 24 hour shift at the fire department last night. Our day was busy as usual. We conducted live fire training with Tucson International Airport. Davis-Monthan AFB is one of very few locations where we are authorized to burn actual jet fuel for training. Most bases use propane because is burns cleaner. As a firefighter, we like using the real stuff because it provides us a more realistic representation of what we might see if a plane actually crashes and bursts into flames. Yesterday was a bit windy and Tucson's fluctuating temperatures have made for a very unpredictable inversion layer. We tried to hold off our training for as long as we could, in hopes for a more favorable weather condition, but there came a point when we just had to get it done. Half way through our training fires, we must have experienced a downward bust of pressure because the smoke plume moved awfully close to where many of us were staged. One of my young firefighters quickly pointed out that if we don't move, we might become exposed to carcinogens. I chuckled at the irony. 

After a long night of emergency calls, I decided to abandon my plans of running errands. Instead, I treated myself to a well-deserved massage before heading to my radiology appointment. I wish I could inform you that the massage was enjoyable, which I'm sure it was, but I must have been so tired that I fell asleep almost immediately. I woke briefly when I was told to roll over, only to fall back into a deep slumber. After the masseuse woke me up, I sheepishly thanked her-embarrassed that I hadn't remembered a thing.

I only had a thirty minutes to spare before I was expected to be at the radiology clinic. Luckily, it was only a few miles away. I walked in a couple minutes early to a waiting room packed full of people. I spent the next couple minutes people watching as I waited in line to check-in at the registration desk. The gal behind the desk let me know that she liked my last name. She asked me if people called me Smiley as a kid. I explained to her how some classmates had failed to realize Smiley was my real name until they saw it typed in our yearbook. I had only one form to fill out, which was a release form for the contrast dye they had to pump into me for the CT scan. 

By the looks of the waiting room, I thought I would be waiting awhile. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard my name called after only a couple minutes of waiting. The nurse's name was the same as my late father who succumbed from cancer a year and a half ago. He walked me back to a large room with what looked like a huge plastic doughnut sitting in the middle. From the doughnut hole was a long, flat bed with a supersized syringe attached to it. The nurse asked me to place all my personal belongings on a chair in the corner of the room. He then instructed me to remove my shoes and crawl up onto the bed. This was turning out to be much different than I had expected. No hospital gown? Nope! Normal clothes. This was not what I had in mind at all. My uneasiness with not knowing was getting the best of me. I began interrogating the nurse on what I should expect. He informed me that I was going to lay down on the bed where he would then start an IV on me. This is where the contrast was pumped into my veins. He then explained that he would calibrate the scanner to my body before taking the images, and that before I knew it, we would be done. I was in a bit of shock to learn that this process was going to be quick, and not long and tedious as I had imagined.

As the nurse ran my IV, he informed me that the contrast dye would make me feel warm and slightly uncomfortable inside. I didn't like the idea of feeling uncomfortable and immediately got nervous. He went on to give me the last of my instructions before stepping out of the room. 

The CT scanner began moving the bed back and forth. I could see a laser beam being used to center my body on the scanner. A magnet or something began circling around the doughnut, increasing speed over time. I felt like I was trapped in the middle of an alien spaceship. It was eerie enough to only heighten my already nervous state. There were a few times when a female voice came from the machine instructing me to take a deep breath and hold it. After a moment of movement, the voice asked that I resumed breathing normally. 

When it was time for the real scan, the nurse came over a PA to tell me it was time to inject the contract dye. My hands were over my head. I had to keep them there until my chest scan was complete. I felt a tingle in my hands. Then, in my feet. Suddenly, I was warm all-over. It was indeed uncomfortable. My bladder got really hot, and I felt as if I had peed my pants. The concern with the discomfort was almost enough to distract me from what was going on with the CT scanner. The female voice once again told me to hold my breath. I did, and again I was moving back and forth as the scanner took my picture. The second scan was of my neck. For this one, I was allowed to drop my arms to my side and relax. The contrast was already in my body, so I only had to lay still. 

Before I knew it, the entire ordeal was over. I had survived my first encounter with the alien doughnut. It really wasn't all that bad. Knowing what I know now...it would be a walk in the park if I had to do it again. From the time the nurse called me back, to the time I was heading for the parking lot was only fifteen to twenty minutes. It was a bit anticlimactic to be honest.  

A Taste of Reality

Hello again, for the second time today. As promised, I have returned with an update following my appointment with the radiation oncologist...

It had been six days since I had last received any news or information pertaining to the little gremlins residing under my tongue. I had a general idea of the type of cancer cells that were discovered via the pathology report. I also knew that there were three treatment options for cancer: surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. Some people get away with needing only one of the option, while most end-up having a combination of two. Some of the less fortunate end up having all three-I pray I do not fall into this category.

Today is President's Day. Jess and I had the rare opportunity to share a day off without the kids. We had planned to have a lunch date before my medical appointment, but first I needed a haircut. We left the house at noon, heading into Tucson to start our daily adventure.

I needed to get a haircut, so we stopped at Sports Clips, hoping it would be quick. When we got there, there were two gentlemen getting their hair cut and one gentlemen in queue ahead of me. I also saw a third girl in the back, so I assumed the wait wouldn't be too long. Jess and I payed on our phones like two millennials being antisocial. The two gentlemen getting their hair cut left. Soon, a fourth gal arrived. There were now four hair stylist and no customers getting their haircut. Cool... I should be up in no time. NOPE! The girls started discussing the new computer check-in system... completely ignoring the fact that there were now four patrons waiting patiently. I thought about saying something, but I'm hesitant to anger a woman with a sharp pair of sheers.

I eventually got my hair cut, but it took way longer than I would have hoped. I left with a nice haircut, but the lengthy task left Jess and me with no time to eat. We headed straight for Banner UMC to attend my 1430 appointment with the radiation oncologist.

We found a parking spot on the roof of the hospital's four story parking garage. I'm pretty sure the entire garage was designed with compact cars in mind. Trying to fit my truck into one of those parking spots was like trying to fit Poohs fat hand into a honey pot. It is a good thing I had Jess with me because her eagle eyes are better at locating signs. She was able to determine where we needed go a lot quicker than I would have. In fact, I almost missed the big sign with arrows that read: RADIATION ONCOLOGY.

The radiation clinic is in the basement of the hospital. I guess this makes sense considering low levels of radiation can not penetrate concrete walls. As we walked into the clinic, the idea of having cancer hit me like a ton of bricks. The lobby was half full-mostly cancer patients that had already started their radiation and/or chemo treatments. My attention was immediately drawn towards a young boy that had lost all his hair from chemotherapy. Excuse my language, but $#!% just got real!

The receptionist was able to draw my attention away for a few minutes with a mound of paperwork. Jess helped me by feeding me all the information from my previous medical records. As I filled out the paperwork, I couldn't help but to listen in on the conversation going on behind me. It was the little boy and his mother talking to an elderly couple. The boy was seven years old. He had cancer in his throat that had traveled to multiple lymph nodes. His mom explained that he had been diagnosed with stage three oral cancer. The boy was so excited to show off his new shunt and port. I was enamored by the boy's bravery, yet scared that I may soon face the same destiny.

I asked Jessica if she had heard any of the conversation going on behind us. She hadn't. But she knew I had, and she knew it bothered me. Jess tried to keep me calm by rubbing my back. The reality of what cancer might lead to was becoming more and more apparent. As always, I tried not to jump to conclusions, but my mind doesn't always want to cooperate. 

I was eventually called into the back. As always, I asked if Jess could come, which is always answered with a "yes." The nurse took my vitals. We joked about a sign on the scale that blamed gravity for our weight. My blood pressure was slightly elevated, but we can assume this was due to the stress of the hospital visit. The nurse asked me the standard questions regarding my past health, as well as some new questions I had not been asked before. I was asked about my blood relatives past medical history: parents, siblings, grandparents, and children. I went on to inform the nurse that my dad had passed away of a brain tumor and that my grandmother (Nana) had survived cancer.

The nurse eventually left us, only to be quickly replaced by the doctor. It was so quick, they must have high-fived outside the door as they handed off my medical chart. The doctor was very nice. He was already informed that I had not yet seen the ENT surgeon there at Banner. This was a concern because most patients see their surgeon before radiation is introduced as an option. Before he went into providing any information about radiation treatment, he wanted to take a look at my tongue. Lets just say... he was not impressed. The doctor was almost certain I would NOT need radiation. In fact, he joked about this being the first and last time the two of us would see each other. My cancer is small. Luckily we caught it early. So early, that the oncologist is confident the ENT surgeon will be able to cut out the entire tumor with no need for any other intervention. Wow, what a relief! I was thrilled to hear from an oncologist that removing my cancer would most likely lead to nothing more than a routine surgery.

The doc text my ENT surgeon to ask her what tests and scans I would need. He put in an order for a PET scan and some blood work. The blood work was something I was able to complete immediately following my appointment, but I will have to wait for a call from the radiology clinic to schedule my PET scan. The doctor shook my hand and reassured me there was little chance that we would need to cross paths again. The PET scan should confirm his hypothesis.   

Jess and I left the hospital feeling pretty good about the information we had received. Although I am not yet in the clear, I do feel confident my interventions will be minimal. I am still worried about the quality of life following a tongue surgery, but I will know more regrading that on the 1st of March.

Please stay tuned while we wait for word on my next medical appointment. Meanwhile, please send your players and well wishes to that seven year old, courageous young man. I wish I would have asked for his name. If you are in the position do to so, please visit  https://www.stjude.org/ and donate a couple dollars. I do not wish this stress and disease on anyone, especially a child.

Pink Hearts and Slow Moving Carrots

Buenos dias from Tucson, Arizona! Welcome back to yet another blog. I am very happy to report that this blog will catch us up to the present. I will most definitely be writing two entries today. This first entry will catch you up to the present, and the entry I write tonight will fill you in on a very important appointment I have this afternoon. I know there have been many blog entries over the last two weeks, but I hope to slow down now that we are all caught-up. Don't give-up on me yet!

I believe we last left feeling helpless while anxiously awaiting my first medical appointment. I'm not a patient person, so having to wait a week and a half for information is torture. What makes matters worse is not having answers for those who care about my well-being. I feel like everyone around me is sitting alongside me on pins and needles.

I mentioned in an earlier blog entry that I have continued working at the fire department as normal. February 13th was a Monday-the day before Valentines Day. I was working a 24-hour shift that day, trying to wrap-up a contract review for an outside agency. I had an appointment with the Fire Chief to discuss the results of the review. As we sat in his conference room discussing the talking points I had wanted to cover, my cellphone rang. Now, normally I would not have a cellphone turned on, nor would I answer it while in a meeting with my boss. I had been expecting a call from my case manager, which was not a call I was willing to miss, plus, my Fire Chief is completely understanding of my current situation.

My phone rang. The call was from a Tucson area code, but not from a base number. I was intrigued. I excused myself from the meeting to take the call. It was the receptionist for the ENT surgeon I had been anxiously waiting to see. She informed me that my appointment for the 15th of February had to be moved to another date due to an unforeseen circumstance. I was immediately irritated. Trying to maintain my composure, I ask her what my new appointment date would be. "Our next available is March 1st." WHAT!?! That's over two weeks away! I was trying not to kill the messenger, but she could hear the frustration and panic in my voice. I felt like a prisoner being told his sentence had been extended ten years, just days before his scheduled released. I felt like crying out of frustration. I just wanted answers...

I stormed back into the fire chief's conference room. Before he could ask me what was wrong, I had begun ranting and raving about what had just transpired. He also became irritated, which was a comfort to know that I was not the only one dying for answers. I asked the Chief if I could further prolong our meeting so I could call the case managers. Without hesitation, he told me to handle my business.

I immediately called my case managers to seek assistance. It couldn't have been more than a second after the initial greeting that I had begun ranting about my frustrations. She was totally on my side... at least she made it sound like she was. My case manager promised me that she would immediately look into the situation and see if there are any acceptable solutions to this problem. I was still agitated, but her calm demeanor and willingness to help was putting me at ease.

Knowing there is cancer in my body is quite unnerving. I know the cancer is not about to spread throughout my body overnight, but not knowing the extent of its growth and reach is frustrating. I also know I am not the only person on Earth, and that there are many others like me in need of medical attention. But, when it comes to facing a deadly disease, it becomes very hard to remain rational. I can't help but to feel as though every minute counts.

My phone rang again. It was my case manager with good news. She informed me of a new appointment, scheduled for the 14th at a new doctor. She also told me that she would leave the appointment at Banner on the books until I decided whether or not I wanted to use this new doctor. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of not going to Banner, but I was over the moon to know I had an appointment. The 14th? That was the very next day! It was also Valentines Day.

After thanking my case manager, I immediately reached out to Jess to tell her what had just transpired. She told me that she had some inspections the following morning, but should be done in time to accompany me to my appointment. It is important to me that she is with me throughout this journey.

My appointment with the new ENT surgeon wasn't until noon, which was okay because I had a morning appointment with my podiatrist. My new orthotics were in, so I had to get those measured and cut for my new shoes. If you recall, this entire cancer story began after I had been to the podiatrist. When the doctor entered the exam room, he asked me how everything was going. I chuckled, which was immediately met with a look of perplexity. I went on to tell him what had occurred over the last two weeks, which was met with sympathy and best wishes. I got my new magic shoes and went on my merry way.

I hadn't gone shopping for Valentines Day, so figured I probably should considering I was scheduled to pick Jess up in the next couple hours. I stopped by the Base Exchange and got Jess a dozen roses, a beautiful card, some dark chocolate hearts, and a bottle of red wine. I had everything staged in the truck so she would be surprised when she opened the door.

I picked-up Jess from her work and we headed to my first doctor's appointment. It was a thirty minute drive, which neither of us seemed to mind considering it was Valentines Day and we were getting to spend some alone time together. We arrived at the location, which was settled in a "hoytie-toyie" part of the Catalina Foothills. The office looked very professional and clean. Apparently my scheduled appointment was an hour later than what my case manager told me, but that was okay... at least I'm getting to see someone.

I was eventually called to the back. Jess went with me. We first stopped at a nursing station to gather a set of vitals. After the nurse completed my vitals, we were guided to a small exam room. Looking around the clinic, there was a lot of information pertaining to different diseases and ailments pinned on walls, but oddly, nothing about cancer. This was a little concerning considering I hadn't seen anything cancer related on the clinic's website either.

The doctor entered the exam room with a look of confusion on his face. He barely said hello as he sat down still thumbing through my medical information. The doctor asked us why we were there, which I thought was odd considering he was holding my medical records. He saw that I was scheduled for a consultation with the doctor at Banner on the 15th of February. I explained how the appointment got moved to the 1st of March and did not want to wait. He went on to inform Jess and I that he does not specialize in cancer surgery and that he would only refer me to another doctor. He concluded by telling us that the doctor I was scheduled to see at Banner was the best. Now... when one doctor tells you another doctor within the same field of study is the best... that should carry a lot of weight!

I began to feel that this appointment was a bust. I pleaded with the doctor to provide me some information that I could take back with me; something that would at least give me a better idea of what I was dealing with. He asked me if I knew anything regarding the type of cancer I had. I told him only that it was squamous cell carcinoma.

The doctor educated Jess and I on what my pathology report said. He explained that we all have squamous cells throughout our body. They make-up the top layers of dermis on most our organs, the inside of our mouths, and our outer skin. The carcinoma simply means "cancerous skin cells." He also explained that my cancer cells are well-differentiated. The term differentiated refers to how aggressive the cancer cells are, and how likely it is to spread. Carcinomas can be well, moderately, and/or poorly differentiated. My cells are well-differentiated, which means it is not aggressive and moves slowly. This is good news! The doctor also informed us that my cells extend to the skeletal muscle at the specimen base. Basically, instead of growing outward like a vine plant, my cells are growing downward like carrots. This can cause complications because the most likely method of removing the cancer will be through surgery. Radiation works best against cancer cells that grow like vines. The rooted cells are deeper, which are more difficult for radiation to penetrate.

Jess and I left that appointment feeling more educated than we had been. I still had to wait for my other ENT appointment on the 1st, but at least I had some information. I was also referred to a radiation oncologist and a radiology clinic to have a PET scan completed. My appointment with the radiation oncologist is scheduled for the 20th of February, which will be the next time I have new information regarding my case.

For now, I will continue living my life while waiting as patiently as I can.   

Dr. Google Knows Best

Hello, and welcome back! I am pleased to say we are getting closer to the current. So much had happened prior to the day I decided to share this story with the world. I didn't feel it would be right to not start from the very beginning. I also didn't want to water the story down in an effort to catch you up quickly. I assumed there would be days of waiting where I could catch you all up... and I was right.

We last left off having learned my pathology report came back positive for cancer. I don't recall much of what the dentists said after the "big reveal" but I am pleased to say their bedside manner was top notch. I definitely felt as though the entire dental clinic had my best interest in mind.

Immediately following the announcement of having cancer, one of the dentist escorted us into the administrative section of the main clinic. He introduced Jessica and I to two very lovely ladies. We were told that these ladies would be my case managers and that if I ever needed anything, they would be the ones who would ensure it was taken care of. When I say that these ladies were lovely, I certainly mean it. If there was a black belt in bedside manner, they were of the tenth degree. Jessica and I were brought back into their office where we had our own little personal meeting with the two of them. By this point Jess was holding onto my arm for dear life. (I'm glad she had been because I felt like passing out from the recent news.) It was nice to learn that both ladies were registered nurses and had many years of hospital experience-in both patient care and as administrators. 

I must had got lucky because one of the gals had a son that survived mouth cancer, and had assured me that I would be okay. I wasn't ready to believe I was in the clear, but I was pleased to know I had a source of information if I needed it.

The case managers went on to tell Jess and I what we could expect to happen over the next few weeks. They also made it a point to tell me to stay away from the internet because I would only scare myself. (Ya....okay!?!) I thought that was funny... Had I listened to Doctor Google from the start, I could have saved myself six months of cancer growth. It felt like Jess and I were in that office for a millennium. The more they tried to comfort me, the more agitated I could feel myself become. I was so upset about the initial blow of having cancer that I was tuning out 90% of what they had to say. In fact, I even had the audacity to tell these two lovely nurses that I was not hearing any of it because I was wrapped-up in my own state of shock and frustration. In hindsight, I feel bad for having acted like a punk, but something tells me they understood 100%. I was entering the second stage of grief: anger.

The days immediately after were somewhat a blur. I spent a lot of time thinking about the future. I also spent a lot of time reading up on mouth cancer from the internet. (Yes... I completely disregarded the nurses warnings.) I also had to work because our staffing levels at the fire department have been atrocious.

I made the decision to be open about my cancer. After all, its not like I got cancer from doing some kind of deviant act or something else completely embarrassing. I planned to use my cancer as yet another life experience I could share with others who may find themselves in similar struggles. It is ironic that I have been working towards getting certified as a Resiliency Training Assistant. Much of what I had been learning to teach became a constant reminder of what I needed to be aware of as I faced this disease head-on. I found myself living within the lessons.

I began contemplating whether or not to document my journey on a blog. (Obviously you know what came of that decision.) The biggest factor in my wanting to write a blog was for my kids. Kids are funny creatures. They only remember what they want to remember and have a uncanny way of blocking out any information they don't find value in. This blog will allow me to present them with the story of my cancer-for whatever purpose it may serve in their lives later down the road.

Now, if I may be honest with you... I am confident I will beat this disease, but there is always a hint of concern. Cancer is scary as $#!% and knowing that half a million Americans (this year) will fall to its devastating clutches is not something I'm willing to overlook. I have yet to find any statistic that states 100% of mouth cancer patients survive. Granted... it appears I have caught my cancer in its early stages. I also know that I am young and in relatively good shape. These factors alone give me great hope. I'm also stubborn as a mule which will prevent me from rolling over and taking it like a chump.

My biggest struggle at this point is not knowing anything other than the fact I have cancer. I don't know what type of cancer I have, where all the cancer exists, or what it will take to clear me of this disease. For someone who is extremely analytical and constantly in search for more information, this has been torture. I've been scheduled for one medical appointment, but that is not until the 15th of February. That's exactly a week and a half from the day the dentists informed me of my cancer. It feels like FOREVER. The appointment is to see an Ear, Nose, and Throat (ENT) surgeon at Banner University Medical Center. This is the University of Arizona's medical school. I guess my desire of being a Wildcat will be fulfilled in more way than I could have hoped for.

We are now in a waiting game. I will have no other information pertaining to my cancer until I see a doctor. I am at the mercy of Dr. Google, who has only filled my head with possibilities. It could be this bad... or it could be this good. I don't know... ANYTHING! For now, I try my hardest to see the cup as half full. Sharing my story has helped me cope, and hopefully, the next time we meet I will have more promising news to share with all of you.

The Care Bear Stare

Hello again! Before we get into the next leg on my story, I want you all to know that I value your feedback and prayers. I feel much better knowing that I have a team of supporters behind me as I continue in this journey. This blog may be long, but I feel it is important to cover a lot of ground so that I can begin writing in the present instead of weeks into the past. I may even post two entries tonight depending how many details I can recall.

The last blog entry ended with me driving home alone; numb, exhausted, and scared. When I got home, I immediately began taking my pain medications in fear the nerve block would ware off and I would be left in pain with no doctors or dentists to save me. The nerve block lasted just over seven hours. I know this because there was a noticeable increase in the level of pain just as I was getting ready to go to bed. The pain kept me awake for much of the night. I had set a series of alarms on my cell phone to remind me each time I was due to take the next medication. I was on a rotation of ibuprofen and hydrocodone.

The next morning, Jessica agreed to drive me to the base to see the dentist. They asked me to come back first thing in the morning so they could evaluate my pain management routine. For the record... I will forever be grateful for the compassion and care I received from the staff at the Davis-Monthan AFB dental clinic. The pain was not as bad as it had been the day before, but it was still considerably more than I would have liked. The dentist offered to give me another a nerve block and have me back at the end of the day to do the same. He also upped my pain medication to oxycodone in hopes it would be more successful than the hydrocodone.

I picked-up my prescription and hitched a ride back home with Jess. Since I was already numbed up from the nerve block, I decided not to take any of my narcotics so that I could drive myself back to base later in the day for another treatment.

I continued this routine for two days. By Thursday, my tongue had healed well enough that I was able to manage the pain with the prescription medications alone. The doctors at the dental clinic had called and checked-in on me regularly. I'm telling you... it was top notch service! They had called me so many times that I had leaned to recognize the number whenever it popped-up on my caller ID.

Friday was the first day I really felt capable of moving around the house. The days prior were largely spent on the couch, either sleeping with the dogs or watch the news. I received a call around noon from a familiar number. It was the Airman from the dental clinic asking if I could come in for a 1 o'clock appointment. Appointment? The dentist must have scheduled a follow-up appointment to check on the progress of my biopsy wound.

"Sir, the dentist would like to go over the results of your biopsy."

Silence... Followed by, "Uh, um, okay. Do I... Will I..." I fell into an immediate state of shock.

"Sir, are you unavailable? I can ask to re-schedule."

"NO! I'm on my way." I had never gotten dressed so fast in all my life. My heart was racing. I was trying to remain optimistic that I was going to receive some good news. I text Jess to let her know what was going on. She asked to be there, which I then insisted that she would. The drive from my house to the dental clinic is about twenty minutes. It felt more like two hours.

I got to the parking lot a couple minutes before my scheduled appointment time. I didn't see Jessica's car, but I didn't want to be late. I text her to let her know I was going inside to check-in. I had been to the dental clinic so many times over the last few days that the entire staff knows me. Before I could even make it to the reception counter, I was told to have a seat and that someone would be right out to get me. I hadn't received a text back from Jess, but she said she would be there. I was scanning the halls looking for her, getting more anxious by the minute. I didn't know whether the news was going to be good or bad, but I didn't want to receive it without my wife by my side. The dental technician opened the door, looked at me, and told me the dentists were ready for me in the exam room. I slowly stood up, glaring down the hall as I moved toward the door. I walked through and began heading toward the back of the clinic and stopped. I turned to the dental tech and told her I needed to wait for my wife. Just then... Jess came walking around the corner. Hallelujah!

The three of us walked toward the very back of the dental clinic. It is much larger than one might expect from judging by the small reception area. The main hall is long, lined with examination rooms. I recall passing multiple open doors where patients were having their teeth cleaned. I was wishing that was my purpose for being there.

We finally reached the exam room, which happened to reside in the very back of the clinic. It was diagonal from my dentist's office, whom I made eye contact as we had turned the corner. We had no sooner sat down before having the entire team of dentists funnel into the room. The dental tech looked at me, placed her hand on my shoulder, and left the room. It was Jess, myself, and three dentists. It became very apparent right away I was not about to receive the news I had been hoping for.

"Your biopsy came back positive for squamous cell carcinoma."

I didn't know what a squamous cell was, but I knew carcinoma meant cancer. There was some more talk about the pathology report, but I really do not recall anything immediately following the initial blow of being told I had cancer. I'm sure I was saying "sure" and "okay" as if I was following what they were saying. The truth is, they could have very easily replaced those three doctors with Charlie Brown's teacher and I would have taken away just as much from that conversation. I don't know that Jess took away too much from that conversation either. When I looked at her, she looked the way I was feeling. I imagine I didn't look any better.

Cancer. I have cancer. I'm 36 years old, and I have cancer. This went on in my head for what felt like an eternity. My training kicked in... I was in the denial phase. I wasn't sure how to feel. Was I supposed to cry? Should I get mad? Scared sounded right, but I was scared earlier and this felt different. I was stuck between wanting to know more about my diagnosis and feeling sad for myself.

Remember the Care Bears? I felt like I had been blasted by a Care Bear Stare. I had a surge of emotions and thoughts, but was struggling to make any sense of it. I was in a Care Bear daze. Only this wasn't the nice bears we learned to love as children. This was a bunch of nasty bears with nothing nice to say.
 
 

The "Case of the Mondays"

Hola! Many of you have sent me messages letting me know how much you enjoy this blog. I greatly appreciate your kind words and encouragement. I will continue to blog as long as there are people willing to read.

So, at the conclusion of my last blog, I had just been scheduled for a same day evaluation at an oral surgery clinic somewhere downtown Tucson. Now remember, my entire purpose for being at the clinic was to turn in a physical fitness profile, not to investigate the callus under my tongue.

Before I could go to my oral surgery appointment, I had to stop by work to let my boss know of my newly developed situation. He is a great fire chief; one that clearly has the best interest of his firefighters in mind at all times. After telling him about the growth under my tongue, the dentist's reaction, and the talk about a biopsy, he told me to take care of business and to let him know if there was anything the department could do to assist. He could see I was stressed out, and didn't think twice about the fact our manning for the day was less than optimal.

Off I went. The drive was just shy of thirty minutes. It was just enough time for me to think of all the potentially bad outcomes this appointment could lead to. The funny thing is, I was more concerned with the physical pain the biopsy would cause than I was the potential for cancer... after all, I have a history of mouth pain.

Imagine for a minute your bite is so bad that when you chomp down on a hamburger, all you get is bun. No meat. No tomato. No lettuce... just bun! When I was a teenager, only two of my back molars would make contact when I bit down. I could stick my tongue through the gap between my upper and lower pallet while biting down. The orthodontist said I had an over-bite, an open-bite, and bi-lateral cross-bites. Basically... my mouth was jacked! I spent two spring breaks in a row (1997 and 1998) in the hospital having oral surgeries to fix my "grill". A few year later, I have a million dollar smile.

I made my way to the oral surgery clinic where I was to have my examination. The doctor looked to be about my age. When he began the examination of my mouth, he could tell right away that I was no stranger to the oral surgery world. He first looked everywhere in my mouth except under my tongue. When he finally asked me to lift my tongue, it felt as though I was living through a deja vu moment.  Like the dentist, his non-verbals were a dead giveaway. There was something under my tongue that clearly set off the doctor's internal alarm. Plus, the fact he was insistent on getting a biopsy that day was not a good sign.

The doctor asked his nurse to prepare the tools he would need to complete the biopsy. While she was collecting the items they would need, the doctor began explaining what he was about to do. I haven't seen a biopsy done in person, but I have seen it done in a video. The doctor was going to use a tool that looked like a hole punch. He used it to cut out a circular sample of my skin. Before he began, he informed me that there was a possibility that he would need to suture the area where we would take the tissue sample. What he didn't tell me was that the alternative was to cauterize the area.

Before cutting into my tongue, the doctor numbed me up to the point where no feeling was left whatsoever. I was surprised as how painless the entire procedure was. Before I knew it, I had a wad of gauze under my tongue, a piece of flesh in a sample tray, and a sticker for being such a good boy. Okay! I didn't get a sticker, but I bet I would have if I were ten... I was a good patient. He informed me that he had cauterized the area instead of using sutures. He also told me that I would feel some discomfort, but that it wouldn't be too bad. Just to make sure, he gave me a prescription for the pain medicine, hydrocodone.

I was told I could expect the results anywhere from a week to two weeks. Two weeks? That is a long time to wait when you've just been informed that you may have cancer. Oh well...it is out of my control.

Instead of stopping by the closest drug store, I decided to stop by the base to pickup my prescription. The pharmacy is right in front of the clinic, and just down the hall from the dental office where I had been earlier that day. As I checked my prescription in at the front counter, I saw a sign informing customers that there was a one hour wait. Oh my goodness... This was turning out to be a long day.

I took a seat in the waiting area hoping my time there would fly by. After a few minutes, I started to feel some erratic shocks coming from my mouth. These shocks seemed to increase in pain every time they occurred. "Oh no-my local anesthetic was wearing off." It had only been a few minutes and now I was faced with the possibility of sitting in this waiting room in pain, with no medications to help control it.

When local anesthetic begins to wear off, it happens relatively quick. One minute you are pain free and the next, it is like World War III just kicked off! Fifteen minutes into waiting for my prescription and I was in full pain mode. Clearly, all the local anesthetic had worn-off. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with pain. Never in my life had I EVER felt the kind of pain I had felt while waiting in that room. I could no longer sit. I began pacing the room, moaning and holding my face as if it were going to fall off. After a couple minutes, I could see that other patrons were taking notice. Some had a look of concern on their face, but didn't dare approach a guy that looked like an addict come off his high. I began to panic. The pain was unbearable. Do I go to the window and inquire about my medications? How would I get home after taking a narcotic? Should I find a doctor?

The pain was excruciating. I decided to walk around the corner to the dental clinic where they had seen me earlier that day. The same young Airman and Technical Sergeant were still manning the reception desk. I quickly approached the desk, holding my face, and grunting in pain. At this point, I had begun sweating profusely and was breathing as if I had just ran a marathon. The Airman greeted me and asked if I could be helped. I barely worked up the words, "pain...biopsy...need doctor!" If I had to guess what I looked like based on the Technical Sergeant's facial expression, I would guess the backside of a dirty donkey. She got up from her chair, told me to hold tight, and ran to the back to get assistance.

Within two minutes, a dental technician came running out. She looked at me, I looked at her, and before I knew it, I was being escorted down a hallway. I was taken immediately to an examination room. The dentist asked me what had happened. I barely mumbled the words biopsy before the dentist that saw me earlier popped into the room. I could hear an exchange of conversation going on behind me, but I was in too much pain to care what was being said. The dentist told the technician to draw-up some sort of anesthetic. He told me to open my mouth. The next words out of his mouth were, "Wow!" and "That looks painful." The dentist immediately gave me a shot of local anesthetic, but it wasn't in my tongue like I would have expected. He gave me a temporary nerve block. Within seconds I went from a ten to a three on the pain scale. I was able to communicate better, but my adrenaline had been so high that I was having a hard time calming down.

A nerve block is a shot of anesthetic targeted toward a certain nerve or group of nerves to treat pain. It essentially "turns-off" the nerves for a temporary amount of time.

By this point, there were two or three dentists in the exam room with me. I was told that the nerve block was only temporary, but they planed to inject a long-term anesthetic once they knew it was the right area. They definitely hit the right area! I informed the dentist that the pain was manageable, and that I no longer had any feeling in half my face. (I felt like Jar Jar Binks after he had zapped his tongue in Anakin Skywalker's pod racer.) The dentist informed me that they plan on giving me a stronger nerve block that should last at least eight hours.

I was given the second nerve block. The dentist then told me to come back in the morning if the pain was still bad so that they could give me another injection. I made sure to let everyone involved know how grateful I was for the assistance before collecting my things and heading back towards the pharmacy. By this point, Jess had shown up to assist me in getting home. I was grateful to see her after the day I had just endured.

The pharmacy had my prescription ready when I got there. I wasn't under any narcotics yet and the dentist okayed me to drive as long as I felt up to it. Jess tried to talk me out of it, but I was insistent in getting my truck back to the house.

I decided to give my mom a call once I was on the road (using hands free of course!) I'm not usually one to get emotional, but there is something about my mothers voice after a bad day that can pull at my heart strings. I had text her earlier to let her know I was getting a biopsy, but had not yet talked to her to give her any of the details. As soon as she said hello, I began to fall apart. It was hard enough to talk with a numb mouth. Now I had a lump in my throat and I could feel my chest get tight. Like any concerned mom, she had questions, but all I could do was mumble unintelligible sounds. I could hear the panic in her voice as she told me to call her back later when I was able to talk. What I really wanted was for her to tell me that she was getting on the next flight to Tucson to take care of me.

I spent the next twenty minutes trying to get a hold of my emotions. I started my day by seeing a foot doctor and ended my day wondering if I had cancer. I guess you could say I was having an extreme, "Case of the Mondays!"

Your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes...

Hello again! I'm glad to see you back.

The last time we met, I had just obtained a letter from my podiatrist excusing me from running. I dropped off the doctor's note with my on-base physician before making the decision to stop by the dental clinic on my way out. This is where my story continues...

I walked up to the dental clinic's reception desk to be greeted by a very respectful Airman. He asked if I was there to check-in for an appointment. I explained to him that I did not have an appointment and was simply there to inquire when my next routine exam would be. He asked me when the last time I had visited their office was, which I proceeded to explain that I had recently changed duty stations and could not recall an exact date. The young Airman asked for my information and proceeded to pull up my dental records. He informed me that I was current, and not due for another exam until May. That was not the answer I was hoping for.

By this time, a very nice Technical Sergeant had returned to her workstation next to the young man assisting me. She turned towards me and asked if there was a reason for me wanting to see the dentist. In a moment of panic, I told her dill pickles had destroyed my mouth. Just kidding! I told her I had a growth/sore of sorts under my tongue that was starting to cause me some pain. She then asked the one question I was hoping to avoid, "How long has it been there?" This, of course, is when I had to face the fact I am stubborn man that foolishly did not seek medical care for the better part of six months. I answered her, and she very quick to informed me that I could be scheduled for a same-day sick call appointment. The young man began clicking away at his keyboard as if he already knew what the next question was going to be. "Sure, what do you have...?"Before I could get the words out of my mouth, Airman "Johnny-on-the-Spot" announced that they could get me in immediately. The sudden sense of urgency was alarming.

I was told to have a seat in the waiting room and that it would be just a couple of minutes before a technician would come out to get me. I headed to a seat where there was an end-table with a stack of magazine. I began to sit-down, eyes fixed on a magazine claiming Brad wanted Angelina back, I was immediately intrigued. Just as my butt is about to hit cushion, out pops a dental tech, "Master Sergeant Smiley?" Have you ever done that move where your body is fully committed to the execution of one movement, and you suddenly try to change course only to be met with that feeling that your entire body was just compressed five inches in both directions? Yup, it sucks! I climbed my way back up to a standing position, certainly looking like the old crusty Master Sergeant I've become. I made my way towards the dental technician who received me with a very warm welcome. Little did I know that she would later become my number one supporter.

I was guided back to a treatment room and asked to take a seat. The cheerful technician asked me to explain the reason for my visit, all the while getting me hooked up to a blood pressure machine, pulse oximeter, and thermometer. She continued to update my information, asking me numerous questions regarding the condition of my tongue. When she was done, she very politely asked me to stay put while she informs the dentist that I'm ready.

The dentist walked in and was already equipped with those glasses that have magnify lenses attached to them. He tilted his head downward to peer over his spooky glasses in an attempt to greet me, introduce himself, and inquired about my tongue. I gave him the CliffsNotes version of my story, which included my theory on sunflower seeds. (Really!) He did NOT seem convinced that sunflower seeds were the cause of my tongue injury. The dentist was more interested in knowing how long it had been since my tongue had an open wound and if it had ever healed over. Like an elephant that never forgets, I immediately began thinking back on all the content I had obtain from Dr. Google regarding the signs and symptoms of cancer. By this point the dentist was seated next me and was getting all this lamps adjusted to his needs. He asked me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue.

Did you know that 93% of communication is received through non-verbal ques: 55% from body language and 38% through tone of voice? I could see by the sudden change in facial expression and the urgency of his voice that what the dentist saw in my mouth was "no bueno!" For those of you who know me, know I am not one to beat around the bush. I came right out as asked..."Is it cancer?" Shocked by my forwardness, he explained to me that the cells under my tongue are suspicious and the fact that my tongue refuses to heal is of concern. The dentist informed me that he would like me to see an off-base oral surgeon as soon as possible. He declared that I would most likely need a biopsy done to confirm whether or not the cells growing under my tongue are cancerous.

The dentist asked me to stay put so he could check to see if it would be possible to get me a same day appointment at the off-base oral surgery clinic. His increased urgency began to scare me. It was beginning to sink-in that I may have the one disease I had dismissed six months prior. I'm only thirty-six! I have a wife and children that need me! I could feel my heart beginning to race...

The dental technician stayed with me in the room. I could tell that her demeanor toward me had changed. She began treating me as if I had already been diagnosed with cancer. She had remained very kind the entire time, but something had changed. The dentist rushed back in, asked me to collect my things, and to follow him down the hallway to another office. I walked into an office where a woman was passing along my personal information over the telephone. She pulled the phone away from her ear to ask me if I was available to attend a 1 o'clock appointment downtown. I confirmed, knowing there was nothing in the world that would trump the need for this appointment (including work). The woman printed off a stack of papers and handed them to me. She gave me directions to the off-base doctor's office and asked if I had any questions. I didn't... I was in shock!

I got up from the chair I was sitting in and turned to exit the room. I was greeted by a familiar face. It was the dental technician that had been helping me. Even though she had a look of concern on her face, she assured me everything would be okay. She informed me that I could call the clinic if I had any questions or ran into any problems. I thanked her before turning to head out of the clinic.

Although there was no diagnosis, I left the dental clinic in a panic. I wanted to remain optimistic that there was nothing wrong, but it is very hard to shake the thought I may have a life threatening disease. I can only imagine what my non-verbal ques were screaming at that very moment.  

Foot and Mouth

Welcome back!

In my last blog, I explained how dill pickle sunflower seeds led to a callus or growth of sorts on the bottom of my tongue. I know this was not the case NOW, but I continued to convince myself that it was the large amount of seeds that led to my damaged tongue. The idea of cancer had been dismissed, everyone was happy, and life went on.
 
Following our four and a half years in Mississippi, Jessica and I received military orders to Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona. If I recall correctly, it was number three on our dream sheet, so we were pleased with this assignment location. I had completed my graduate degree and had planned to attend my commencement ceremony at Southwestern College, just outside of Wichita, Kansas. Jess and I decided it would be a good idea to work in a house hunting trip into my college graduation trip. So, after having graduated, I hopped on another plane and headed to Tucson, Arizona to locate our new home. For those of you who have not been to Tucson, imagine stepping into a Roadrunner and Coyote cartoon. This is exactly what Tucson looks like. For anyone who loves the outdoors and heat, this is the place to be.  

Fast forward nearly six months later where we now reside in Tucson, Arizona. For me, Tucson was a welcome home party in many ways. This place has a SoCal feel, only trapped in a desert with no ocean anywhere is sight. The locals live very active life styles and seem to be extremely nice and laid back. The food selection is identical to that you would find in SoCal: In-N-Out, Rubios Fish Tacos, and killer fast food Mexican joints on nearly every street corner. Yes... I was home again! The biggest welcoming was coming back to the job I loved after spending four years away as a Professional Military Education Instructor. I was finally back to being a fireman.

A lot had changed since I had left the fire department. I grew immensely as an Airmen. I had also gained an entirely different worldview from both my education and through my opportunity teaching at the Noncommissioned Officer Academy. I had a better understanding of what it takes to be a better Airmen and leader in today's Air Force. My goal was to return to the fire department and inspire others to be the best Airmen they could be. I had a lot to prove and no idea how to go about doing it. My plan was to be an example of the type of Airmen and firefighter I would expect of my subordinates. I needed to re-establish myself as a credible fireman as well as a credible Senior Noncommissioned Officer. I felt comfortable that I would excel in many areas, but there were a few I was extremely unsure of.

I have always struggled with my physical fitness. As I mentioned before, I was a smoker for many years and had an appetite for good food and beer. The smoking did a number on my lungs, but helped manage my weight. When I finally kicked the habit, my breathing improved, but my weight was out of control. By the time we moved to Tucson, I was at my all time heaviest. It didn't help that I splurged on tons of delectable Gulf Coast and Cajun specialties in the months prior to our departure from Mississippi. It really didn't help that I arrived to Tucson knowing all my childhood favorites were finally available after nearly a decade of being without them. So, needless to say, I knew I had some work to do!

Okay tubby, it's go time! I had to drop some weight, if not for my health and to pass my upcoming physical fitness test, to prove to my new department that I was not Augustus Gloop. Tucson offers two things that can definitely help anyone looking to lose weight: tons of hills and extreme heat. I was hiking and running anywhere between three and eight miles every other day. At work, I would walk and/or run on the treadmill at full incline. For those who do not know...walking and running on an incline burns WAY more calories than walking and running on a flat surface. I indeed dropped weight fast, but in the process I gained a little something extra in the form on a heel spur.

Heel spurs are calcium deposits that grow in the form of a pointed, bony outgrowth on the bone of the heel. They can be caused by straining the foot's muscles and ligaments and the stretching of the plantar fascia. Heel spurs can also cause a lot of additional pain when an individual suffers from plantar fasciitis. All the training I had been doing on inclined surfaces led to sever plantar fasciitis, a condition that nearly crippled me going into my physical fitness test.

After a few months of fitness training, I had accomplished two things: I had transformed myself into a decent enough shape to pass my physical fitness test and I completely jacked-up my foot. Every morning felt like someone was driving a red hot railroad spike through my heel. With my physical fitness test behind me, I decided to get my foot checked out by a doctor. The doctor was cool and got me hooked up with a referral to a podiatrist off base. My podiatrist introduced me to my very first cortisone shot, which is scary as hell when you see the size of the needle, but helps control pain immediately. He also measured me for some high tech, custom formed orthotics to place in my boots. I was well on my way to recovery.

I spent the next couple months trying to nurse my foot back to health. It felt better, but working out made the plantar fascia flare-up, which would cripple me the next day. I grew more and more concerned because I knew I would need to train for another physical fitness test. I talked to my podiatrist and he recommended I not run. Well...that's great, but how will I prepare for my test? He wanted to put me on a profile that would exempt me from the run portion of my next physical fitness test. I was not thrilled by this because there seems to be a stigma within the Air Force towards those on profiles. I had no other choice. I took his note and headed back to base to be placed on a physical fitness profile.

Getting the profile was easy. I handed my physician the podiatrist's note and within minutes he excused me from running for three months. Feeling a little better about my situation, I headed out of the clinic. Now, if only I could get this crap on my tongue to heal...

Oh... I forgot to tell you. Over the last six months, my sunflower seed callus got bigger and eventually turned into a sore that refused to heal. So now, I am left with a bum foot and mouth. I suppose I should stop by the dental clinic since I will pass them on my way out. Maybe they will put me on a no eating profile. That should counter the no running!

Dill pickles gave me cancer...

Greetings, and welcome to my first blog entry. I would like to take you on a journey back in time, when my adventure with cancer first began.

For those of you who do not know me, my wife Jessica and I are active military in the United States Air Force. Prior to moving to Arizona, we were stationed at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi Mississippi. This journey of our life lasted from 2012 through 2016. It was there in Biloxi where this story begins...

Jessica and I were on the tail end of our four year tour at Keesler Air Force Base. I was in my fourth and final year as a Professional Military Education - Instructor at the Mathies Noncommissioned Officer Academy. Those last twelve months were stressful. We knew we were up for orders to move, had just purchased an investment property, both actively perusing our graduate degrees, juggling the kids' school programs with Connor's football and, oh, by the way, I had just quit smoking.

That last item... the smoking! If you didn't know, I was a smoker for the better part of seventeen years. I had started smoking in high school and it followed me into my military career. If was great! The lifestyle of a military firefighter and smoking seemed to go together like peanut-butter and jelly. There was nothing better than sitting around the "smoke pit" joking and sharing stories with the guys (and gals) you accepted as honorary family members. There was something magical about the bond created among military members that occurs while huddled around the picnic table, bench, or whatever was available in that area designated specifically for smokers. If you needed legal counsel, you got it at the smoke pit. If you needed marital advice, you got it at the smoke pit. If you needed to rant and rave about your leaderships' bullshit tasks... you could do it at the smoke pit. Smoking was my ticket to a healthy social wellness.

Doctors will tell you that anything bad for you will eventually catch-up to you. Guess what? They are right! By the time I hit my thirties, my smoking habit was having a negative impact on my physical wellness. I guess my body could no longer recover like it did when I was in my twenties. I was getting short of breath when climbing stairs, struggling to run my mile and a half run, and woke-up every morning coughing on nasty phlegm build-up. I decided it was time to quit. I had tried quitting twice before, using Chantix to help, but I don't think I was truly ready to give-up my social cancer stick. This time, I knew I was ready. I used the Chantix again for the third time, but only got through two weeks of taking the medicine before I finally quit for good. I was finally free of the addiction and guilt. Best part, I was saving money and no longer smelled like an ashtray. The only drawback... I wanted to eat everything!

Cutting a habit like smoking after seventeen years definitely has its drawbacks. The rumor about gaining weight is real. My appetite has always been "healthy," but after I quit smoking, I was like Agustus Gloop in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. I ate all the time. Not only did I eat, I ate out way more than I should have. My love for Gulf Coast fried seafood, Korean, and craw-fish had me throwing on the L-B's like it was the cool thing to do! At one point, I got heavily involved with eating sunflower seeds.

Right around the time I decided to help coach Connor's football team, I picked-up the habit of chewing sunflower seeds. Not just a handful once in awhile like a normal person, but multiple bags of the things each week. If you didn't know, sunflower seeds have come a long way since the 90's when I played youth sports. They have tons of flavors: bacon (yum), ranch (yum), Old Bay Seasoning (okay), cracked pepper (yum), and DILL PICKLE!! Now, I know what you're thinking..."dill pickle sunflower seeds?" Those are by far the best flavor seeds I have ever had in all my life! I couldn't get enough of them. I ate bags an bags and bags of those things. I was spittin' seed shells all day long. I would be willing to bet I ate millions of Dill Pickle sunflower seeds in the eighteen months I spent knocking out my master's degree. It was during this time that my doctor told me for the first time that my cholesterol was high. Well....duh! I could have been drinking sea water and had less sodium than those seeds. Anyways... I ate a lot of them, and over time, I could tell something wasn't right in my mouth.  

After a couple million sunflower seeds, it wouldn't be too hard to convince someone that all that sodium and sharp shells would eventually do a number on the inside on one's mouth. I sat at my computer one day and noticed there was a touch patch of skin running along the bottom of my tongue. I took a look in the mirror and it looked like there was a patch of what could be a callus or build-up of skin on the bottom of my tongue. I did what any smart person would do; I went to the doctor. I returned to my computer and immediately asked Dr. Google what this callus might be. He refereed me to WebMD, another wise and all knowing doctor. Here, I discovered that it could be a couple different things. I tried to match each diagnosis to pictures on the internet. Unfortunately I was not having much luck. I then came across the "c" word... CANCER! Cancer? Dill Pickles did not give me cancer! That was crazy talk. Just for giggles... I looked up pictures of tongue cancer on Google. WOW... those picture look a lot like my tongue. It can't be. There are NO documented cases of people getting cancer from Dill Pickle flavored sunflower seeds... I was in denial.

In the beginning, there was a mouth...

Greetings! I am Christopher Smiley, and I have recently been diagnosed with cancer. Upon learning of my new condition, I decided it was time to start a blog. I've never done anything like this before, but since I'm not the best at keeping in touch with people, I figured this would be the easiest way to keep those I care about informed of my condition. If you happened to come across my blog by chance, please stay, I welcome you into my world. My intent is not to educate the world, but to share my experience with this dastardly disease. Before you continue, I would like to warn you ahead of time... I can be very sarcastic, cynical, and known to use colorful language from time to time. I do so only to add intensity and emotion, and never to offend anyone.

So... on with the show!