God Holds It Together

Kristina’s Story

Written by: Kristina Landsdell

My story indirectly coincides with my son’s story, for which I’m forever grateful because he saved my life. Due in the middle of April in 2008, he came early.

We arrived at the hospital and a couple weeks early and he was ready to be born. I was beyond excited to start this new journey with my husband, our little man, and daughter Alyssa, which would have made a perfect family of four.

God had other plans... Noah was born and we got to hold him for a night. The next day he was scheduled to go in for his circumcision like any other routine procedure. Time had passed, and Noah did not return. We waited until we were finally informed that Noah had popped a hole in his lung during the circumcision. How could this happen?

He was immediately transferred to NICU, where he would stay until he could breathe on his own again. He was so little, and it was so heartbreaking to see my precious son hooked up to ventilators while being quarantined in a little plastic box where we could not touch him or hold him until further notice. For weeks, day after day, we visited Noah in NICU. We were just waiting on him to pull through.

In the midst of all this heartache and confusion, I developed the absolute worst heartburn anyone could ever imagine. While my husband was going to work, my Oma agreed to stay with me while going through the new post pregnancy regimen and this heartburn from pregnancy that came in like the Tazmanian Devil.

After several days of not being able to eat or get very little water down, because of the pain of the heartburn, we decided to go to the emergency room. We explained the symptoms and pain to the hospitalist, and he concluded that I simply had heartburn and needed Prilosec. He also prescribed liquid Lidocaine that I could drink in order to get some kind of sustenance into my body. I took his advice and took the Prilosec along with the disgusting Lidocaine with no better results.

After 10 days of not being able to eat or drink, while Noah is still in NICU, my husband has had enough. We return back to the emergency room at Kennestone, and he demands something further be done. “This is NOT just heartburn!” he exclaimed. The hospitalists that day agreed to do several tests, including blood work and scans.

The next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital room hooked up. Low and behold, I had some serious ulcers up and down the esophagus, making it almost impossible to eat or drink. The medication I was hooked up to was supposed to start curing this ulcer, and I could not be happier.

Hours had passed as I waited to get the okay to be discharged. Still pretty out of it, I heard the door open. “Was it time for me to leave, finally?” Little did I know, my life was about to change.

A new doctor appeared at the foot of my bed before I could completely focus my eyes and get a good look at him. He started to introduce himself as Dr. Underwood. He explained that he specialized in thyroids, and the radiologist spotted something on my scan that was abnormal. My eyes were focused now, and my ears were perked. He wanted me to come into his office days following my hospital stay to discuss things further.

I grew up knowing about thyroid disease because I had hypothyroidism since I was young, but I never knew it could take a turn for the worst. Noah was then able to go home, and I got to be with my little man...for now at least.

My mother and I got to Dr. Underwood’s office. As I nervously sat down, he stood, and we talked about a biopsy. He assured me that he has done this too many times to count, and then he also assured that from his years of experience, 9/10, this is cancer. I was dumbfounded.

Cancer? Could it really be? The girl who always said nothing like this could ever happen to me. I was 23, a young mother and wife, a student at Kennesaw State studying Biology, and now the “C” word I never associated myself with would dominate my life and my thoughts.

I went home and cried like anyone would be expected to do with all of this new overwhelming information given to me just days after my brand new son was released to go home, so we could be an official family. I informed my husband, and he was upset as to be expected, but reassured me that everything will okay.

A week later, I paced my living room floor, waiting to hear from Dr. Underwood about what the pathology results had revealed. Finally, the call came and Dr. Underwood, as he had expected, then explained that I was now diagnosed with Stage 3 Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph nodes. My heart completely sank.

Of course, I was scared. After I got myself together, the only thing that was going through my mind was I needed to be strong for my family, and above all, for my children. As I was piecing myself together, my oncology surgeon and my endocrinologist were busy coming up with a plan to get me out of this Hell. Their plan consisted of surgery and oral radiation. I was ready to get started.

After a grueling 10 hours of surgery, I was out of the OR and waking up already feeling like I was one step closer to being cured. After my surgery, I am now to do oral radiation which meant that I could go home with this treatment, but will have to be quarantined away from my children and away from my family. I sadly agreed to this plan. We all got together as a family at a local favorite restaurant and decided where the kids would stay while I’m receiving treatment. We came up with a reasonable plan, and we were ready to set things in motion.

The next day, I arrived at Kennestone hospital and sat down in a tiny bare room in the Nuclear Medicine department. I waited for about 10 minutes, and then a young man fully dressed in a hazmat suit, good enough for a zombie apocalypse, stepped in with a three inch lead canister. Inside this heavy canister was the radiation pill that was nestled in a half inch hole. The tech explained that I needed to take the pill and go straight home.

“I thank God who held my hand, my family, friends, and team of medical professionals for doing everything they needed to ensure I can continue in this life being a mother as I had so much more to accomplish and experience.”

Within the following weeks during this treatment of isolation, I had to wear gloves, plastic coverings on the bed, flush three times, and sweat as much as possible within the confinement of our property. When I needed groceries, my mother would bring them to my front stoop and leave, only being able to wave through the window. We had just moved into this home, so there were boxes everywhere ready to unpack. I was thankful for the unpacking because it definitely kept my mind busy.

At the end once everything was said and done, and the prognosis was on my side, I got my family back. Four months later, I had a recurrence. I had more surgery and a little more radiation to seal the deal.

As of today, everything is mostly sound. I have experienced a lot of ailments and surgeries I never had trouble with before treatment. I thank God who held my hand, my family, friends, and team of medical professionals for doing everything they needed to ensure I can continue in this life being a mother as I had so much more to accomplish and experience. As Dr. Underwood explained to me, my cancer, even though a good one, was so aggressive that I will always remain on the “high risk” list for recurrence. I continue to be checked and more ready than ever if this disease thinks it can return and overrun my life.