Dallas Singer Learns of Cancer Diagnosis From Airport Metal Detector | Dallas Observer
Navigation

North Texas Singer Llora Is Alerted to Their Cancer by an Airport Metal Detector

The solo artist was en route to a festival when a metal detector alerted security of an anomaly.
Image: Dallas musician Llandon Broadhead, aka Llora.
Llandon Broadhead, aka Llora, learned about their cancer just before a flight to a festival performance. Diego Hernandez
Share this:
Carbonatix Pre-Player Loader

Audio By Carbonatix

As a live performer, North Texas musician Llandon “Llora” Broadhead is fond of the element of surprise, but discovering testicular cancer from a metal scanner was a new one.

Broadhead, who uses they/them pronouns, was almost halfway through a fall tour following the release of their first album (the self-titled Llora) in May. Four days after the second leg of the Substance Festival on Oct. 26 in San Antonio, the 30-year-old musician was readying up at Dallas Love Field Airport in anticipation of playing at the Substance Festival in Los Angeles.

Without another thought in their mind besides the excitement, Broadhead walked through a metal detector at a security checkpoint when it suddenly began beeping. Broadhead turned around to find a red dot on their genital area with the message, “Groin anomaly detected.”

Broadhead’s heart sank immediately, instantaneously certain they had testicular cancer.

“I had to get on a three-hour flight to LA by myself, and the Wi-Fi was out of the plane,” Broadhead says. “So I just raw-dogged the entire flight with no music, movies or anything, just thinking about how an airport body scanner basically told me there's a fucking tumor in my nut.”

A doctor confirmed the diagnosis. Having not worked another job outside of music gigs, Broadhead is now struggling to pay off medical bills without insurance. They have applied for the Affordable Care Act, but the future of the program best known as Obamacare is uncertain, as President-Elect Donald Trump has previously expressed intentions to reform the act. But in this uncertain time, the singer is finding comfort in the Dallas music community.

Who is Llora?

With a long family history of musicians, Broadhead grew up with an obsession with music. According to the Fort Worth resident, their great-grandfather sang with the likes of Elvis Presley on the Louisiana Hayride radio. Yet Broadhead found their musical passion away from home.

“I went to this preschool or daycare thing when I was younger, and they would always just play this '80s hits playlist,” Broadhead says. “When my parents got like an MP3 player in the car, I always had to put all that late '80s songs on there and I still listened to a lot of that stuff still today."

From there, Broadhead was hooked, and knew they wanted to play around with synthesizer sounds. They were often “looking at videos of synths all day” before purchasing their first one in high school.

The musician got their start in music in 2013 writing music in a band called Monk Children, and started performing live in 2014. Later in 2016, Broadhead was part of a collective called Ranch Hands with friends. The group played around DFW, improvising each performance and inviting other musicians to improvise with them.

“I just like the act of being vulnerable in that way,” Broadhead says. "It really got me comfortable performing in front of people. Sometimes it's really bad and cringey, and sometimes there are these insane moments that'll never happen again and it's just whoever's there to see it. And then you have that memory with those people forever.”

Broadhead’s most recent band was Pollen, which has been inactive for the last year due to members working on their own projects. However, Broadhead’s most passionate project has been their solo work under the name Llora.

As Llora, Broadhead had the liberty to experiment with sound, releasing their first single, “Tired,” in 2017. The musician was set to tour in 2019, a “few weeks before COVID.” Of course, they had to cancel.

“Everything just stopped for two years,” Broadhead says. “My life was on pause like everybody else's, and then I just got back to it and started playing shows again.”

This was short-lived, and Broadhead was able to complete a tour earlier this year under a different headliner before having to cancel their own headlining tour this fall.


Fight or Flight

After receiving the official diagnosis, Broadway hesitated to make it public right away. The doctors had diagnosed them with testicular cancer and it was uncertain at what stage it was without a biopsy, which doctors advised against as it could disturb the tumor.

“That was the worst day of my life,” Broadhead says. “I’m kind of a hypochondriac, so for something like that to come true is validating in the worst way possible.”

Broadhead told trusted friends and family, and decided to play at the festival since there were no impending appointments.

“Fuck it, I'm already here,” Broadway recalls thinking, trying to keep their mind off the diagnosis.

The singer finally announced the news on social media on Nov. 12, posting a GoFundMe page. It's currently received over $11,000 in donations.

“We got u babe,” LA metal band Patriarchy commented under the Instagram post, followed by other commenters who echoed words of support and encouragement.

Three days later on Nov. 15, Broadhead finally underwent surgery for a unilateral orchiectomy, a procedure to remove one testicle.

According to Broadhead, a medical team will later perform a pathology analysis to determine the stage of the cancer.

With music gigs being their main source of income, Broadhead says their medical bills and living expenses have become overwhelming. The artist had previously had health insurance but after their bank account got into the negative, they missed two payments and the plan was canceled. Broadhead now has to wait until January to officially enroll for the health insurance program they signed up for under the Affordable Care Act.

Fort Worth was designated as an official music city in 2017, but it has yet to create a health insurance program for musicians such as the Denton Music and Arts Collaborative. DMAC is a nonprofit that provides health subsidies for Denton musicians and artists who earn most of their income from their craft. However, on April 2, Sound Care, a partnership program between Hear Fort Worth and JPS Health Network, began offering income-based healthcare options for local musicians within Tarrant County.

Broadhead anticipates an update on the stage.

“I’m just trying to stay optimistic and take whatever steps I need to get rid of this shit and get back to my life,” the singer says.

Community

It was hard for Broadhead to ask for donations at first. It took some convincing from their friend Alondra “DJ Al G” Gonzalez, to finally create the GoFundMe. In a matter of days, the page was widely reposted, even by Substance Festival’s Instagram page.
Broadhead is usually a “get in your face” type of performer who likes to interact with the crowd, Gonzalez says, adding that it's a shame Broadhead hasn't been able to perform after the surgery.

“They're very extroverted. I feel like their way of recharging is being in a social setting,” Gonzalez says. “So this is kind of forcing them to isolate a little bit, stay home and slow down. They're definitely going through a shift emotionally.”

To help with the medical costs, she threw together a late-night benefit show featuring Void Palace, Pony Boy, Chemdawg and Gabe Mendoza on Nov. 18 at West Side Art Collaborative, a venue in White Settlement. She charged a $10 entry fee and sold Llora merch on Broadhead’s behalf raising an estimated $870 for them.

“We’re all here for you, Llandon, we love you,” Sebastian Siverand of Void Palace said at the benefit show.

Broadhead has found comfort in the community and says they never expected people to donate as much as they have.

All this experience has given Broadhead the reassurance that the music community in Texas is “special” despite also finding the state to be “oppressive.” Until they hear back about the pathology, they aren't worried, finding solace in the community.

“I'm glad to know that I actually am part of a community and it's not just this network of people, like, clout-chasing, like doing shit just for themselves," Broadhead says. "It's actually a community that I get the privilege to be a part of, and it just makes me want to do music even more.”