Kelly Jo Dowd, mom of 14-year-old golf sensation Dakoda Dowd, died of breast cancer in her Palm Harbor, Fla. home Thursday night. She was 42.

Dowd spent years battling the disease that had spread to her bones, liver, and brain. She also spent years waiting to see her young daughter play in an LPGA event. Her wish came true last spring.

"I'm prouder today than I was yesterday that my daughter has the courage and strength to play with these LPGA professionals," Dowd said after the Ginn Clubs & Resorts LPGA tournament. "And I feel great right now. I feel great. My dream came true out here."

Esophagitis is a condition that happens when the esophagus is inflamed and can cause pain and discomfort when swallowing. This is a common side effect when treated with radiation to the chest and neck area and can also be caused by chemotherapy treatments.

Patients receiving radiation for lung cancer, Hodgkin's disease, Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and head and neck cancer could be at risk for developing esophagitis. After about two weeks receiving the radiation patients might complain of a burning sensation along with pain when swallowing. Usually this condition clears up after a month or so after radiation treatments. When esophagitis occurs with chemotherapy treatments it usually will appear in a few days after treatment.

Some ways to help deal with the symptoms of esophagitis:

• Avoid hot and spicy foods
• Avoid acidic foods such as tomato sauce and orange juice
• drink plenty of cool liquids
• Cold foods are easier to tolerate
• Avoid eggs, ice cream, milk shakes
• Use nutritional supplements to maintain weight
• Ask your doctor about medications to help with esophagitis

I didn't know what was coming when I plopped myself down in the waiting room of an Ear, Nose, and Throat clinic yesterday -- which is a good thing. Had I known what doctors would do to me, I may have run the other way. I may have learned to live with the pain I was experiencing each time I swallowed food. But I waited patiently, aware that doctors would "scope" my esophagus, mildly certain the procedure could be uncomfortable, completely unprepared for the full "scope" experience.

I swallowed a pill on Friday night -- not even a whole pill, just a half of one pill -- and it hurt when it went down my throat. I've had the feeling before, a sensation like the pill got stuck, but the discomfort has always gone away within a few hours. This time, it lasted. It hurt to swallow saliva. It hurt to swallow food. It just hurt. So after three days, I took myself to the clinic -- with the subtle worry that cancer was settling in my esophagus.

I know rationally that every ache and pain I experience is not cancer. But I've had cancer. And so I constantly battle a nagging fear lodged deep in my head that reminds me cancer is always a possibility, that cancer is often a shocking outcome of a routine little test for a simple little health concern.

I do not have cancer. I do not have cancer of the throat, voice box, esophagus, or stomach. That's the good news. The scope revealed -- via a tiny camera that traveled through my body -- nothing but healthy tissue. That makes me happy. The test did not make me happy.

I now know the scope is a long, thin tube that enters the body through one nostril. Ouch. It travels into the throat. Ouch. The patient swallows when it reaches the throat to assist in maneuvering it down further. Ouch. The scope then makes its way past the voice box, though the esophagus, and into the stomach. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. The travels are all displayed on a monitor, and I actually got a glimpse of these body parts -- during the split second when I was able to control my gagging, loosen my grip on the arms of the exam chair, and open my clinched eyes. So I saw for myself that everything looks healthy -- just before the tube was pulled right back through all these parts, leaving me with a very sore throat.

Now that I am home and have talked with a few people, I hear that some patients are unconscious for this procedure. They are completely unaware of the horrors of the scope. I got a few sprays to numb my nose and throat and drank a thick cocktail of lidocaine -- but I did not get the luxury of unconsciousness. And in the end that is okay. I got to see what was happening. I got to hear the doctor's revelation that nothing major is wrong. I got to witness the wonder of medical technology. I got to prove to myself that I can handle a little discomfort in exchange for a clean bill of health. And I got to learn that I have a bit of acid reflux. And now I have to squash that nagging fear that reminds me of the literature out there suggesting a link between acid reflux and cancer.

Heartburn has never really been considered a major health concern. It has been considered uncomfortable and annoying and troublesome -- yet still only a harmless nuisance. In recent studies, though -- summed up in the September 2006 Oprah magazine -- heartburn has been linked to a deadly form of esophageal cancer. Apparently, people who experience heartburn one time per week or more have a fivefold or greater risk of adenocarcinoma of the esophagus -- a cancer with incidences jumping as much as 500 percent over the past 40 years. Experts insist, however, that adenocarcinoma is still rare. One doctor states that 40 percent of Americans have heartburn once per month -- yet only 8,000 to 9,000 people develop this specific cancer each year.

For the unfortunate few who do go on to contract cancer, there is hope in a surgical procedure to remove the cancer and part or all of the esophagus and nearby lymph nodes -- which can dramatically increase the odds for survival. For most of us, a bit of heartburn does not signal an eventual cancer diagnosis. It just means we might need to self-treat the symptoms with over-the-counter remedies. And a recent review at Stanford suggests that sleeping with your head elevated can reduce reflux pain.

You should see a doctor if your heartburn results in a consistent burning sensation, difficulty swallowing, or vomiting.