The End of the Scar Era

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Update (July 29th): I got a call today from my plastic surgeon's nurse. Apparently the surgeon does on-call shifts for the emergency room, and they now have surgery tomorrow that will conflict with my appointment time. So we rescheduled for the 20th of August. I was frustrated at first, but then I realized that being free from tending to a new wound will make our August travels much more enjoyable. Thanks for all of your kind words and positive thoughts. -ch

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I assumed that all my postings from the engagement until the wedding would be wedding related, but life goes on throughout the planning--or life goes on because of the planning. A while ago, I decided that before the wedding, I would get my scar removed. This way I can have a smooth, scar-free neck on the most important day of our lives--a day I want to feel completely beautiful.

And I know nobody cares about the scar. People always tell me, "I never noticed it!" or "I don't even see it anymore!" Yeah, great, but I do. I put make-up on it every day so no one notices it. Otherwise I get comments from grocery store checkers like, "what happened to your neck?!?" and I have to say, depending on my mood, either "that's none of your business" or "I had cancer. I had surgery. It's none of your business." Ok, I'm never anywhere near that rude, but I certainly think those things.

But, ultimately, I don't really need a reminder of my illness emblazoned on my body . . . well, at least not on my neck. Not anymore. After reading my post from four years ago (below), I realized that I am a more private person now (as I blog!). I don't need to use my own body as an advertisement for environmental protection. I'm not an activist. I just want to enjoy my own life with my own family and friends, people who know exactly what I've gone through and don't need the reminder.

So this Thursday, the 30th of July, I'm going to a plastic surgeon. Apparently my scar is so dominant that he can't do any sort of laser or steroid treatment. He'll actually be removing my scar and sewing me up again. So I'll have a new scar, and I hope that this new one will heal better than the first one. I believe it will. The surgery won't be as invasive, I'm healthier now, our diet is very good, even better since I decided to get the surgery, and I have the maturity now to do as the doctor instructs.

Brian's getting off work early on Thursday to take me. I love him!

I really hope everything goes well.

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I wrote my story out and posted it to MySpace on Tuesday December 06, 2005. Since I don't use MySpace very much anymore, I thought I would copy the story here to remember.

I called it The Scar Story:

Very recently I happened to mention my past illness to a coworker who replied with, "I've always wondered how you got that scar, but never had the courage to ask." That encounter made me realize that although many of my close friends have not only heard every detail of the story but went through it with me and supported me through it all, many people have never heard a thing. So, I'm writing it all down for you. And in doing this, I have an opportunity to keep a written journal of the experience. Which is nice. . . .

"Why I have a big friggin' scar on my neck"

or

"What happens when your conjoined twin ends up being a cancerous mass"

by Christina Asdel


Quite a few years ago I went to "the Center" in SLO to get birth control (this is off topic, but please know that you shouldn't be paying for birth control. In this male-dominated society, the least we women deserve is some free contraceptives!). When there, the nurse pointed out that my thyroid was enlarged. She said she couldn't diagnose anything herself, but she advised me to get it checked out. After that, I had several doctors look at it, I had hormone tests done, but no doctor thought there was any reason to do further tests.

More than a year later, I went to the doctor for an unrelated complaint. My G.P. was not in, so they had me visit the other doctor in her practice. When I came in the office, she quickly diagnosed my complaint then added, "What I'm really concerned about is your enlarged thyroid". I admit it was getting bigger. Not goiter size, but when I tilted my head back and swallowed, you could see the lump on the left side of my throat moving up and down. Peter liked to call it my "twin".

So I went to an Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor who explained to me what it could be and scheduled me for a biopsy. Let me tell you, having a big f*cking needle thrust into your neck and pull flesh out of a vital gland is not pleasant. A few days passed. My neck was still throbbing from the deep puncture wound. And I was waiting for a phone call that could leave my life unaffected or alter it in ways I could in no way imagine.

I got the call on the last day of finals Spring of 2003. It was Dr. Spillman. He told me that I had thyroid cancer and that he wanted to operate as soon as possible. I hung up the phone. I was sitting in Brian's room on campus. He was in class, so I couldn't get a hold of him. I tried to call my parents, but I could only get message machines. So I sat in his room, alone, neck throbbing, listening to Cat Steven's 'Trouble' on repeat, and cried.

Brian and I had been planing a trip around the U.S. for over six months. All I had wanted for six months was to leave on this trip, and now all I wanted was to get this cancer out. Something toxic and alien was in my body and I wanted it out!! (that was my thinking at the time).

Thankfully, Dr. Spillman (the only Doctor who has gained my respect in this entire process) understood the importance of this trip to Brian and me. He scheduled the procedure to happen as soon as possible, so we only had to postpone our start date by one week.

On June 13th 2003, I was admitted to Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz for a total thyroidectomy. For those of you who don't understand medical-talk (or speak Latin), I had my entire thyroid removed. A quickie summary of what the thyroid is and actually does: The thyroid is a butterfly-shaped endocrine gland at the base of the neck, just below the Adam's apple, which excretes hormones necessary for growth and proper metabolism (thanks Answers.com!). The thyroid is completely necessary. Without a thyroid or replacement hormones, a person will die. Which means I will be on hormones for the rest of my life. A statement to which my friend Roger, a man in his 80's, responded, "you can't say things like that. In my lifetime science has progressed so much that things we once said were not possible, now are."

Thankfully thyroid cancer is very treatable, which is the reason I cannot claim to understand the experience of most cancer patients. It is slow-growing and not very aggressive. Although I had a very large nodule, the cancer had only grown into a few lymph nodes and no farther.

So my thyroid was removed, I wrapped a scarf around the bandage, went home to throw another Mary-kate and Ashley party, came back to Santa Cruz to get the stitches removed, and then left for a 15,000 mile trip around the country. It was an amazing adventure. We are the citizens of a magnificent country teeming with wonderful people. No matter what political party you align yourself with, you should feel a large amount of pride for being a citizen of this county. It's beautiful. Throughout the trip, my energy level was outstanding, probably better than before the surgery. I will always have great memories from that time.

The real problems didn't actually start until after the trip. My Endocrinologist, Dr. Williams (Boooo!), decided that I should have radioactive iodine treatments to kill any remaining cancer that could have been left over after the surgery. This is a very common procedure, but it includes being taken off all medication during the process. So Dr. Williams decided I would have the radiation treatment on Friday, two weeks from then. It is necessary to be off medication for two weeks prior to the surgery, so he told me to stop taking my Levoxyl.

A week and a half later, I went for my pre-procedure appointment. The radioactive doctor (sorry, I'm sure there is a more formal term than that) came out to start the meeting, and checked the appointment date for my actual radiation, "Funny," he said, "Dr. Williams scheduled you for a Friday, and I don't work on Fridays". So he had to schedule me for a slot almost two weeks after my intended appointment.

By the time I checked into Dominican, I had gone almost one month without my medication. I was slow, had gained weight, and was extremely depressed. The procedure in itself was not too bad. I watched a lot of E! and drew in my sketchbook. But it was a very strange feeling to have nurses coming in with radiation meters so they would know when they had been near me for too long. Brian, "the 7", and the Dharma's crew all sent their best. Brian actually came in with a box of food from Dharma's that had been customized and beautified be my coworkers. It was awesome.

The real trouble came when I got home from the hospital. I couldn't sleep with anyone for 48 hours, and Brian and I were accustomed to spending almost every night together. I couldn't be around children or food for a week, which meant I couldn't work or go to school. I was on my medication again, but it took a while to get to the appropriate level. This was the first time in my life that I truly understood the mentality of someone who is considering suicide. I was lonely, tired, depressed, and radioactive. It was terrible.

But I was soon at my correct thyroid level, feeling a little better, and was able to work and go to school again. Around this time, I started getting other symptoms. I started feeling foggy and disconnected from myself. My hands and face were tingly. I was still slow and the depression hadn't lifted completely. I look back on that time and wonder how I worked. Why did they let me work? I was so out-of-it.

After months of wondering what the hell was going on, my doctor decided to put me on 1000 milligrams of Calcium a day. That helped the tingling. But the disorientation hadn't gone. A Naturopath agreed with the diagnosis of Calcium deficiency, and I began to take 2000 milligrams a day. I am calcium deficient because during the thyroidectomy, the surgeon had to take out several of my parathyroid glands (A person has around 7. They took out 4). Parathyroids regulate the calcium in your blood, and mine had not regained their former productivity level after receiving such a shock.

Now that I take 2000 milligrams, I feel like a normal person. And it only took two years to understand what was going on. I still have this massive scar on my neck that has keloided and not decreased. Dr. Williams wants me to get plastic surgery, but I like my scar. It serves as a constant reminder of the preciousness of life. I know people in their 20s are supposed to feel immortal, but I'm an exception, I guess. I also like that it brings up conversation. The most logical explanation for the cause of my cancer is pollution. This type of cancer is not hereditary and I'd never been exposed to radiation before my own treatments. We are treating our world like shit, not like the sacred and beautiful place that it is. I like to be an example of what can happen to people as a result of the crap that we pump into the air, earth and streams. After Chernobyl, countless young people were diagnosed with thyroid cancer. So many, in fact, that the scar I have is called "the Belorussian Necklace" in that area of the world.

If you have made it through this entire story, good job. Thanks for making the effort.

I have to thank everyone that helped me through this ordeal. Brian is an amazing guy, and a comfort to have close in difficult situations. I have to thank all of my friends, my family, my coworkers at Dharma's, my teachers, and everyone else who has kept me in their thoughts. Take care of yourself and the planet!

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I realized that I didn't mention in the story that I ended up dropping a full load of classes the semester I had my radiation treatment. That was a mess. Five Ws!

I also wanted to add that although I give Dr. Spillman a lot of credit in the story, he made the incision that didn't heal correctly. I don't know what part he played in the healing, though. It was probably all the fault of my silly body.

Also, Dr. Jeanine Rodems, the G.P. that spotted the lump and sent me to Dr. Spillman, has been my doctor every since: 6 years! She's really wonderful. She had thyroid cancer herself and usually understands everything I'm going through.

Think happy thoughts for me and my new scar!!