The Lump That Changed Everything: What We Learned the Hard Way
A deeply personal story about facing cancer, the mistakes we made, and the hard-won wisdom we want to share with you — so you don't have to learn it the way we did.
It Didn't Look Like a Monster in the Beginning
He had a crown on that tooth, slightly too high. When he chewed, he pressed his jaw to push it into the gums.
At some point he started to feel a strange pain on the outside of the lower lip. Then came numbness on the skin, like a tooth permanently under anesthesia.
Then a lump — so small it felt like a plant seed under the skin. Almost invisible, but unsettling.
Sloba knew something wasn't right, and his nervousness was real. So, the natural first step to getting rid of the pain was to visit a dentist. A jaw scan was done, along with routine cleaning, since he was already there.
That's when it appeared — a small black shadow beneath the root of tooth.
"It could be anything," the dentist said.
An MRI or a biopsy were suggested.
We remembered the leg pain from a year earlier — X-ray, MRI, and still no answers. No clear cause. Not even a disc hernia. We didn't want another long stretch of "we don't know."
So, we chose what we believed was the fastest path.
He skipped MRI and went straight for the biopsy.
That decision changed everything.
The Biopsy That Woke the Monster
The moment the oral surgeon took a tissue sample from the jawbone, the lump seemed to explode.
In just two weeks — the waiting period for biopsy results —it grew exponentially.
Seven centimeters in radius.
Three teeth lifted completely out of the jaw, as if they had never been anchored in bone at all.
Only later, in the hospital, did the oral pathologist explain that this kind of aggressive growth is common with this type of bone cancer. Unfortunately, no one explained the possible consequences at the moment when that information would have mattered most.
During those two weeks, all we knew was that something had gone terrifyingly wrong.
What We Would Do Differently — Immediately
If we could rewind time to the moment the lump first appeared, this is what we would change:
Instead:
01
MRI with contrast
We would immediately do an MRI with contrast, knowing now that standard MRI often misses early multiple myeloma.
02
Blood and Urine Tests
We would order blood and urine tests to check for abnormal levels of proteins.
03
Hematologist-Oncologist
With those indicators, we could move directly to hematologist-oncologist and then: bone marrow biopsy from the hip and PET CT scan to map the disease.
Only after nearly confirming the diagnosis would we touch the jaw — and only if radiotherapy and chemotherapy were ready to start immediately. Without a diagnosis, those treatments cannot be prescribed anyway.
The goal would have been simple: stop the growth before it accelerates. And maybe — save the teeth.
What We Would Do Differently a Year Earlier
A year before the lump, Sloba had severe pain in his lower leg and pelvis. Some days he barely walked. On other days, he walked almost normally.
We thought it could be sciatica. But MRI of the lower back showed nothing.
I was massaging his leg, his back a little bit, putting cremes to release the muscle tension, of even patches that would stick for 1-2 days. We never found a pattern to it, he just figured out he shouldn’t make a sudden twist on the hip and any sudden move.
“You’re just getting older, it’s normal to feel pain.”
We heard that often — from friends, family, and people around us. Life moved on, the pain seemed to ease at times, but it never truly went away.
Now We Know:
We would have insisted on MRI with contrast of the pelvis and lower spine.
If we had caught it then, the jaw tumor — the most traumatic part of this story — might never have happened.
TEETH. Read This Carefully.
During the worst evenings, when the pain peaked and sleep disappeared, Sloba became desperate.
The teeth pressed against the growing tumor were unbearable.
One night, he told me he was convinced he’d feel better without them.
He was close to pulling them out himself.
NEVER. EVER. DO THIS.
I don’t know exactly how I stopped him. I didn’t have real arguments against it—I’m not a medical doctor. I just knew — instinctively — that touching it would be dangerous.
Later, in the hospital, when the oral pathologist removed the teeth properly, the bleeding was extreme — the kind you only see in movies.
Tumors create an abnormally dense network of blood vessels. Pulling teeth at home could have caused catastrophic bleeding — coma, or worse — before reaching emergency care, explained the nice doctor to us.
Sloba's instinct was right: removing the teeth relieved pain.
My instinct was right too: it had to be done in a hospital.
I am permanently closing the door on the alternative scenario that doctor mentioned.
Waiting For Answers
Mornings were almost peaceful.
By afternoon, pain crept in.
Evenings and nights were brutal.
Painkillers like ibuprofen and paracetamol stopped working.
Early in the second week of waiting, he could no longer chew. Everything went into a blender.
I inspected the tumor daily — watching it change.
When I wasn’t making tea or blending food, I was searching for answers: medical papers, forums, chatbots, anything. Eventually, we came across a scientific article describing a patient with an extramedullary mandibular plasmacytoma. The image — figure 1b — looked almost identical to what we were seeing.
Later, it turned out we were right about that. The patient in the paper was diagnosed with lymphoma. As for Sloba, we were still waiting to learn what his diagnosis would be.
When white tissue appeared on top of the tumor, it looked horrifying and hwas afraid of what that might be. The surgeon, later in the hospital, reassured us: those were dead cancer cells. Ugly, but harmless. The fastest-growing ones outpaced their blood supply and died first, and they are that whitish gum on the top.
Fast growth.
How fast?
Apparently faster than you want to imagine.
This is what rapid tumor growth in the jaw looked like for us — and why timing and diagnostic order mattered so much.
From Suspicion to Diagnosis
The day we finally received the biopsy results from the jaw deserves its own post.
Multiple myeloma (MM) — the primary diagnosis. With extramedullary mandibular plasmacytoma (lump in his mouth).
Shock, fear, and a strange sense of relief all at once, and no time to sit with any of it. We had to act.
We reached the hematologist-oncologist, and from that moment on, things moved quickly:
• bone marrow biopsy from the pelvis
• extensive blood and urine analysis
• hospitalization the very next day—for eight long nights
He was prescribed Tramadol with Paracetamol, which finally brought relief from pain. Taken together, they amplify each other’s effect. For the first time in weeks, he slept through the night — in a hospital bed.
PET CT scan followed after the weekend.
Final diagnosis
Multiple myeloma
~ 30% bone marrow involvement
Kappa light chain only
The word “heavier” form of MM (kappa light chain only) scared us at first. Later, after learning more, it turned out not to be as ominous as it sounded thanks to early diagnosis. I’ll unpack myeloma types in a future post.
What mattered immediately was this:
This kappa type tends to escape the bone.
The tumor in the pelvis had pushed its way through the bone. That likely explained why the leg pain suddenly eased. The PET-CT eventually confirmed that this spot was already a fracture point. Radiotherapy was needed there too.
The jaw came first, the pelvis second.
Can Natural Remedies Stop This?
No.
I say this as someone who loves natural approaches, avoids supplements, and believes deeply in food, herbs, and lifestyle medicine.
Once a tumor enters rapid growth mode, only radiotherapy and chemotherapy can stop it.
This is not a fair fight.
You need heavy artillery.
Treatment Begins
He was prescribed:
Radiotherapy for Jaw
Five radiotherapy sessions for the jaw
Radiotherapy for Pelvis
Five radiotherapy sessions for the pelvis
Chemotherapy
Weekly high-intensity chemotherapy for 4 months, preparation for autologous stem cell transplantation (ASCT)
Protocol: Daratumumab + KRD
By mid-May 2025, the treatments had started.
We had planned our summer in Europe — Mediterranean islands, fish, wine, and swimming until our fingers wrinkled.
Those plans disappeared overnight.
Instead, we found ourselves on a road we never chose — with very few signposts and a completely different definition of “normal.”
How we got through the hospital days and those four months with treatments — emotionally, physically, financially — and still kept working to pay the bills, is the story that comes next.
If you’re reading this and something here feels familiar, you’re not alone.
You’re welcome to leave a question or share your experience in the comments.
Please have in mind that medical advice should always be discussed with doctors.
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