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.