Fifteen year old Caroline’s main concern was spending as much time in the water as possible, the summer of 1996. God made the water for me.
My throat had a little tickle that was beginning to get annoying. I was a little surprised that my mom made a doctor appointment because of a slight discomfort, but we had plans of travel and she wanted to make sure I wasn’t leaving with the beginnings of strep.
Being me. I was then the child. I would have preferred to get up and leave. I would take the sore throat over the discomfort of the exam. The nurse stuck that popsicle stick half way down my throat and then scolded me for gagging. The doctor came in to say hello. Being one of eight children, my family was a good set of clients to have. He chatted and quickly examined my neck.
Unrelated, he felt a little lump. “Probably nothing. Go to the beach. Have fun. Come see me again when you get back.”
It was cancer.