The Biopsy

About a year ago I developed an ulcer on my tongue. No big deal. I've had them before. However, this one didn't want to go. I'd spent the last few years catching up on dental work that I'd neglected since I was a teenager, so naturally I thought it was connected. I'm obviously biting myself, I thought. Perhaps when I'm asleep. It's been known to happen.

I happened to be getting a wisdom tooth removed, so I showed my ulcer to the Oral Surgeon. He said it was probably my wisdom tooth that was causing the problem. So out went the wisdom tooth (in the chair I might add - but that's a blog for another day). In the coming weeks the hole where the wisdom tooth was healed up, but not the ulcer.

So I went to the Dentist to get a check-up. I also wanted a follow up on the wisdom tooth. Just to check everything was OK. The Dentist didn't know what the ulcer was and couldn't understand why it wouldn't heal up.

A couple of months later I went to the doctor for a totally unrelated reason. I casually showed her my "ulcer" (notice how I know put it in inverted commas?). "Oh my god", she said. "You need to get a blood test". So I did. And I also went back to the Oral Surgeon. The Oral Surgeon said that he would do a BIOPSY -- just to "rule things out".

I started to think about the classic doctor quotes: "get your affairs in order"; "consult a priest"; "have you made a will?"

When I went back for the biopsy, the Oral Surgeon said he wasn't going to do the biopsy. My "ulcer" appeared to be getting "smaller". I danced out of his office. I sang on the way to the car. I whistled on the way home. "It's not cancer", I thought. Ok. Calm down. It still could be a mistake. Then it hit me: it’s not cancer now, but someday, who knows?

A few months later, I had further blood tests. The doctor told me I had "pernicious anaemia". It could be the reason why I have an "ulcer" on my tongue. A low B12 count.  She sent me to a specialist. The specialist said he didn’t know why the Doctor sent me to him, because he doesn’t handle pernicious anaemia. I "fired" that Doctor and found a new one: a nice man who had a glint of "bedside manner", something that most doctors fail to acquire in the year 2013.

First he sent me for another blood test. On the one hand I was relieved when I found out that my B12 had returned to normal, but on the other hand, a bit frightened to find out that there was no explanation for the ulcer.

Type “ulcer” or “canker” sore that won’t disappear into the Google Machine and you’ll find out that you have Oral Cancer. No two things about it. If an ulcer hasn’t healed in a few days, it’s cancer. I’d now had mine for a year.

All sorts of things went through my head. If it’s cancer, wouldn’t it get bigger? Wouldn’t there be more of them popping up? I don’t feel sick. At least I don’t think I do.

My new Doctor said, “Right, let’s do a biopsy. I can do it here. Make an appointment”. Good, all business. Let’s get it done.

I’ve had 3 wisdom teeth removed in the chair with a local anaesthetic. I remember asking the Oral Surgeon before he removed the first one if it was going to hurt. He didn’t beat around the bush, “yes, very much”, he said. And at the time I remember slithering down the surgeon’s chair as his tools twisted and turned and the sound of bone cracking made me wonder whether life would ever be the same (or if it was my tooth cracking or my jaw).

Having a wisdom tooth removed in the chair was a truly delightful experience compared to getting a biopsy taken from an ulcer on your tongue.

The doctor said I wouldn’t feel anything because of the local anaesthetic. What I really needed though was a local anaesthetic to stop the pain of the needle that was going to give me the local anaesthetic. Furthermore, I had to hold my tongue steady with a tissue as he inserted the needle. Then for a further 5 minutes as he took the biopsy. The nurse asked him if he was going to put in stitches. At first he said no, but then he called the nurse back, and with some hesitation in his voice, said “yes I think I will put in a few stitches, it doesn’t seem to want to stop bleeding”.

“Come back and see me next Tuesday for the results”.

Next Tuesday I went to see him. After a week of worry and fear, the results weren’t ready yet. There was a back log due to a public  holiday. “I’ll call you with the results tomorrow”. Tomorrow came. Not ready yet.

Great, another sleepless night. I’ll add it to the collection.

By this time I’d already mentally distributed my prized possessions to those who have done me good in my life. I was sad that I’d never be a father. I worried about my wife. I worried about the annihilation. The black emptiness.

I’d pretty much resigned myself to my fate. Finally, on the Thursday night, around 4.30pm, my doctor called. “Good news”, he said, “you don’t have cancer”. A sigh of relief. The explanation for my ulcer, which doesn’t come up in the search engines of Doctor Google, is a complex one. It is something. Something with a long name that my doctor didn’t even try to pronounce. He’ll tell me the next time I see him, but the main thing is whatever is on my tongue is harmless. He did say I could have it removed if I choose. Maybe I should keep it as a reminder not to fear the worst if I don’t need to. But perhaps not. This time the biopsy was negative, but next time, who knows?

Nevermore?