I guess now it can be told.
My son, Dylan, who has been living in Ashland for a couple of years, complained about a persistent sore throat months ago. Naturally, we repeatedly told him 'go to a doctor' since we have insurance, etc.
Of course, he never did.
Last Friday night in Pasadena, on the eve of Sylvia's 99th Birthday party, he mentioned that he still had the sore throat. We pulled out a flashlight and looked into his mouth, and were shocked to see a marble-sized mass that was clearly not supposed to be there.
Karen, having represented a number of people with throat cancer and other horrible stuff, fretted all night about what this could be, and we told Dylan that he would NOT be returning to Ashland on Sunday, but, instead, would stay with us in Portland so that we could make sure this got looked at ASAP.
She took him to a couple of places today until she found someone who would look into it, and, to great relief, the first opinion was that it's a horribly inflamed tonsil, not cancer.
Next appointment is tomorrow afternoon, when we'll find out if he needs surgery (probable) or if it can be handled with medication (hard to imagine). Regardless, he's going to be in Portland for at least a few days, but it seems that our worst fears (which you can imagine) are over.