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.