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!"