It was August 2001. After enduring a terrible sore on the side of my tongue for god knows how many months, a cavity finally got me off my butt and into the dentist. The dentist took one look at my sore and referred me to an oral surgeon. In his office, under local anesthesia, the oral surgeon proceeded to cut a 3cm lesion off the side of my tongue. He then sewed me up, Fed Ex'd the sample to Shands and sent me home. Two days later I got a call that I needed to come to his office that day, August 27th(1 day before my 25th birthday). Somehow I already knew what they were going to tell me. I called my parents and told them they had to leave work and come with me. I still can't believe I let him do all that cutting without ever doing a biopsy or scan beforehand.