Waiting for a biopsy result sucks

I mentioned awhile ago that I had a sore in my mouth that my dentist was concerned about. I went to the dentist because it hurt and got an antibiotic. It didn't get better. I went back to the dentist and he said, hmmm, come back in two weeks and we'll see if that's completely healed yet. I went back in two weeks and it was still there.

So at 7 a.m. last Monday, the dentist said he thought I needed to see an oral surgeon for a biopsy. And oh, by the way, you should have it done in the next day or so, so my office will call for you so you get in faster. Gulp. Okay, Dr. Anderson.

Six hours later, I saw the oral surgeon, who took a look, numbed me up, and carved out a cone-shaped chunk of my hard palate (from the roof of my mouth). They showed me afterwards. It was a little less than a centimeter long and a millimeter wide at the top, then tapered.

Then I started the longest week and a day of my life. I read up on oral cancer (damn the internet). I learned that most oral cancer occurs in people who use tobacco products (I've never even put a cigarette to my lips, ever) or those who drink heavily (I have a drink about once every three weeks or even less frequently). I also learned that in just over 25 percent of cases, there are no risk factors. Could I be one of those unlucky people?

It took until Tuesday morning, but the surgeon called and said that what I have is sialometaplasia. It's a benign inflammatory condition that looks just like squamous cell cancer (hence the doctors' concern). So my sore will go away, over maybe another month or so. And I'm fine.

It's been two extra days now and I realized that after obsessively looking at the roof of my mouth for four weeks, I didn't even look at it yesterday. Tonight I did, and the sore looks better. It doesn't hurt. And what I mostly see is the place where they took out the biopsy. I'm fine.

Thank god.