Kristi’s Story

Site created on March 11, 2017

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On Wednesday, February 22, I felt like I was getting another kidney stone. I went to the walk-in that Thursday evening to get some Flomax to help move the process along faster because I was planning on leaving for a work conference on Sunday. On Friday I had some discomfort; I woke up that night with some pretty bad pain. On Saturday I was in quite a bit of pain, but Brody & Logan had a Lego competition at the Fargodome all day, and Jeremy was working at the Home Show, so I pushed through it. Around 4 PM the pain became pretty severe; at 6 PM I called Jeremy to come home - I was going to go to the ER for some pain medication (I've never had any pain meds before, but this pain was pretty bad). Once in the ER, the doctor asked me to lie back so he could examine my abdomen, and I collapsed onto the floor. The pain was unbearable and I couldn't breathe. I quickly got some dilaudid, which helped me feel much better. 


I spent over an hour in the ultrasound room. During the exam, the technician told me that I had a huge stone on my left, a large one on my right, and my right ovary had a cyst. I knew something else must be going on because she left the room to talk to the doctor a few times, but I had enough dilaudid in me that I didn't really care. Once back in my ER room, the doctor came and told me why I was in so much pain - my abdomen was filling with blood from the cyst that burst, and that blood was pushing on my diaphragm, making it difficult to breathe. I was admitted to the hospital to watch my hemoglobin and blood pressure and see what my cyst would do. I called Jeremy to tell him I wouldn't be home (he was home with the boys). My parents were in Florida on vacation, but I was comfortable and slept for a few hours that night. 


Sometime early Sunday morning I was brought to CT, and very quickly after that CT I was brought to surgery. I am thankful that they were able to call in the OB surgeon to perform this procedure. I was able to ask him to try to save the ovary if possible, but I told him to do what he needed to do - I was not going to be mad or devastated if he had to remove it. When I woke up, he told me that he had to remove the right ovary and tube. He said that what was left of the cyst that he removed was football-sized and I had between 500 - 1000 cc of blood in my abdomen that he washed out. I was released that evening with instructions to visit my urologist about the stones ASAP. 


On Wednesday, March 1, I had a urology appointment. I had two very large stones - one on each side. Lithotripsy (sound waves that break up the stones) only had a 40% chance of being effective, so he recommended a ureteroscopy - he would go up there and remove the stones. So 4 days after my salpingo-oopherectomy (cool name for removal of the ovary and tube), I had the two stones removed. Unfortunately, during the surgery my left ureter was damaged because of the size of the stone. I was the unlucky recipient of bilateral double J stents, which are tubes that go from your kidney to your bladder... one on each side. And, instead of the 1 week that I knew I would have them, I now got to keep them for 2 - 4 weeks. 


Recovery from that second surgery was difficult to say the least. That Sunday was by far the toughest day. Jeremy was working at the fire department and my mom had the boys, but I was very, very sick. My blood pressure was extremely low, I was dizzy and extremely nauseous. Luckily, Monday I started to feel like I might actually survive having these two stents in for 1 week (at that point I was going to BEG the doctor to remove them after 1 week... there was no way I could tolerate 2 weeks with them in). 


At 6:09 PM on Monday March 6, I received a call that I never, ever thought I would get. The very kind OB surgeon from Essentia called to tell me that I have a very rare type of ovarian cancer called granulosa cell tumor of the ovary. He explained that he truly didn't think the pathology report would come back as cancerous. The surgeon is older, and he said that he had only seen this type of cancer once before, when he was in residency. The good news was that this type of cancer has a very high 5-year survival rate if caught early. The bad news was that mine had burst in my abdomen, so there could still be cancer cells floating around in there. Neither Sanford nor Essentia have doctors that can help me, so I will be traveling to the University of Minnesota and the Mayo Clinic to meet with a team of gynecologic oncologists and we will pick which team will fit our needs best. 


Since this type of cancer is so rare, there is very little research on it, which stinks. I will likely need a complete abdominal hysterectomy, and after they see what is in there, they will decide if I need chemo or not. If I do need chemo, it will likely be one of two types, both of which could hopefully be administered in Fargo rather than Minneapolis or Rochester. 


I am so, so scared, but it helps to know that I've got the best group of family, friends and co-workers to surround me and help me win this fight. I've got a husband that I love and two little boys that need their mom around for a long, long time; I WILL win this battle. 


Update on the boys:
The boys know that when I had my first surgery, the doctors found some parts that weren't working. Since I didn't need those parts, they took them out. Once they were out, they found out that those parts had cancer in them. They know that Jeremy, Grandma and I traveled to Minneapolis and to Rochester to talk to some doctors, and those doctors decided that I need to have another surgery to take a few more parts out. Those doctors also decided that I need to take a medicine that will help make sure that all of the cancer is gone. The medicine will make me lose my hair and feel kind of yucky. 

Newest Update

Rockin' the Grandma Hair

Journal entry by Kristi Rasmussen —

I recently went bowling with my 5-year-old nephew. I’m not sure if he just hasn’t seen me for a while, if he forgot that for quite some time I had no hair, or what… but in the middle of our bowling game, he walked up to me, stared at my head for about 10 seconds (which is a LONG time for a 5-year-old) and said, “Kristi, what is up with your hair??”. I asked him what he meant, and he told me, “Well, you… you’ve got... GRANDMA HAIR!!”  I decided that he described it perfectly – I am rockin’ some pretty bad-ass Grandma hair.

About a month ago, I decided that I was going to be done wearing my hats – I had worn either my grey stocking cap or my grey/white buffalo trucker’s hat for about 3 months straight, and I don’t even like hats that much. I had to figure out what to do with the mop on the top of my head. One day I dug through my old hair products and realized that I had mousse (that was probably from about 1992 – and I’m not exactly sure what I used it for then). I went out and bought some gel, and between the two products, was able to look what I consider presentable enough to not wear my hat.

I have a few new friends who didn’t know me before I got sick. They love my hair right now – they think it looks great. But when I show them a picture of what I used to look like (a.k.a. what I’m supposed to look like), they can’t believe that it’s me – that’s how different I look. It honestly is pretty unbelievable even to me the changes that have happened in the past year.

My hair has been one of the most difficult parts of this journey. I was really nervous to shave my head. But for some reason, it was like the jitters floated away along with my hair as my boys buzzed the electric razor over my head. Once the hair was gone, within a few minutes I had snapped a selfie and posted it to Facebook. My mom told me that I was brave... but after she said that, I had second thoughts – maybe I shouldn’t have shown the world my new 'do quite that quickly. But I decided that it was going to be WAY easier for me if people knew what I looked like without hair – that way they wouldn’t stare at me or be caught in an awkward position for both of us the first time that they saw me.

Honestly, being bald kind of grew on me (ha… get it – “grew”??). I enjoyed the lack of hair products; the ease of getting ready in the morning; the cool breeze on my head. Everyone told me that I had a nice head – and I did! I thought I was ready to have my hair back, but I have definitely struggled throughout the growing-the-hair-back process.

When it first started growing back, I looked OK in my short buzz-type hair. But then it grew just enough that it looked funny… so I started wearing a hat. And I didn’t take that hat off for about 4 months. Luckily, this cancer thing hit at just the right time (or, I guess we caught it at just the right time, because I have a sneaking suspicion that it was growing inside of me for quite a while before we caught it). Anyway, those two hats became part of me during the winter months.

During the hat-wearing season, late at night, I would take the hat off and spend some time all alone in front of the mirror trying to make my head look presentable… and I just couldn’t. If you knew me before I had cancer, hair-styling skills weren’t at the top of my strengths. I had plain, straight, dirty blondish boring hair (that I didn’t appreciate as much as I should have). Now, I have brownish-graying grandma hair that makes me look like I’m from 1980. If I could find a neon-colored leotard, I would definitely win a 1980’s costume party.

For a while, I contemplated shaving my head again nearly every single day. But I feel like I get closer to long(-ish) hair every day… only a few more days (I’ve been saying that for at least 3 months now – just ask anyone who sees me at work every day. My hair is my #1 discussion point of most days).

I’ve finally started to embrace my 1980’s grandma hair. It’s not who I used to be, but it’s me now. And just like my hair has changed this past year, I have too. My hair has been through quite the journey, as have I. Maybe someday, the curl will start to straighten out and my hair will slowly get back to normal… just as my life is slowly getting back to normal. My hair will never be the same as it was, but neither will I. It’s not good, it’s not bad – it’s the new me. And I’m finally OK with that.
Read More of the journal titled "Rockin' the Grandma Hair"
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