Whatever it Takes

Excerpt from "Whatever It Takes":

The Diagnosis

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. It was a Friday, September 20, 2002. I had just landed from an overnight business trip and as always, the first thing I did when my plane touched down was call Kelly. Unfortunately she didn’t pick up. It was about 12:30 in the afternoon and I knew that she had an MRI at 10:00 that morning, but I thought that she must be done by now. When I got to the car about 15 minutes later, I called a second time. When she didn’t answer I began to worry.

I was just about to call again when my phone rang. I was delighted to see on the caller ID that it was Kelly. My delight ended abruptly when I answered. I could tell from Kelly’s voice that something was wrong. In a tear-filled voice she told me, “I have a brain tumor.” At that moment, my whole world came crashing down.

Although I knew that this was a possibility based on the research I had been doing on the Internet, I wasn’t prepared for this outcome and I wasn’t prepared to get the results this fast. I asked her, “Where are you?” She explained, “I am on my way home from the doctor’s office.” I told her, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be driving. Please stop wherever you are and wait for me to come get you.”

Kelly wasn’t the type of person to just say “OK” to a suggestion like this. She said, “I’m fine honey. I’ll meet you at home.” But I persisted and got her to agree to meet me at a restaurant not far away from where she was.

As we both drove, we continued to talk. Kelly explained, “I went in for my MRI at 10:00 and was done around 11:00. I asked the technicians to tell me what they saw. They said that a radiologist needed to read it and the doctor would call me if something was wrong. If not I would get the results in a couple of days. I was a little impatient with them because I could tell by their faces that something was wrong. I wasn’t feeling all that great so I just got in my car and went home.”

Kelly continued, “When I got home the phone rang as I walked in the door. It was the doctor. She told me to get you and come into her office right away. I asked her why and she said that I needed to come in to get the news. I explained that you were out of town on business and wouldn’t be home until later this afternoon. She asked me if I could get a friend to come in with me. I told her ‘No, I’ll come by myself.’ She reluctantly agreed and told me to go back to the MRI place, get the films and bring them with me.”

As I listened in disbelief, Kelly continued, “I knew exactly what the doctor was going to tell me and I was extremely pissed off that I had to drive all the way over to her office just to hear what I already knew. When I got to the doctor’s office, the doctor started crying. She told me I had a golf ball sized tumor in the center ventricle of my brain and she apologized for telling us the other day that this couldn’t happen.”

As Kelly said this, I thought, “This is the same doctor, who only five days earlier argued with me about the merits of even ordering an MRI!” I remember that day vividly. It was my birthday and one of the most absurd days of my life. Kelly, who had been suffering for over six months, was getting progressively worse. She had been going to the doctor repeatedly but not getting answers. I decided to go with Kelly to the doctor and insist that the doctor order an MRI to see if Kelly had a brain tumor. I was frustrated with Kelly’s continuing pain despite her repeated trips to the doctor so I started doing research on the Internet. Very quickly it became apparent that Kelly’s had classic symptoms of a brain tumor. A few weeks earlier, Kelly had asked the doctor to order a blood test for a brain tumor, but it came back negative.

Unfortunately, having only spent a couple of hours on the Internet, I did not have a full understanding of the intricacies of brain tumors, and therefore I didn’t learn until later that there are two types of brain tumors, primary and secondary, and only secondary brain tumors can be detected by a blood test. Secondary brain tumors start somewhere else in the body and metastasize to the brain while primary brain tumors start in the brain and stay in the brain and therefore don’t get into the bloodstream and can’t be detected through blood work. An MRI is the only way to detect a primary brain tumor.

When I learned this I told Kelly to call the doctor and ask her for an MRI. The doctor refused her request. When Kelly told me this I told her to make an appointment and I would go with her. On the day of the appointment, Kelly had a migraine headache and was doubled over in pain – curled up in the fetal position on the exam table in the doctor’s office with the lights turned off in the room. We waited for what seemed like eternity. When the doctor came in I was struck by how carefree she was as she examined Kelly. As if she was just going through the motions.

I tried my best to be calm and keep my mouth shut while she examined Kelly. However, I was growing impatient that she wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as I thought she should. I said, “I have been doing research on the Internet and Kelly’s symptoms make me think this might be a brain tumor.” The doctor responded, “Kelly had mentioned that when she requested the blood work a few weeks ago. I don’t think Kelly has a brain tumor.” She went on to explain that she ordered the blood work because she thought something else might come up like Lyme Disease or a thyroid disorder not because she actually suspected a brain tumor.”

The doctor continued, “You can’t believe everything you read on the Internet, Mr. Grundner. Besides Kelly is too young to have a brain tumor.” “I hope you’re right,” I said, “but I still think an MRI is warranted since this has been going on for several months and we still haven’t figured out what is causing it.” Unbelievably, the doctor told me, “I think Kelly is depressed,” basically implying that her symptoms were psychosomatic.

I had a tough time keeping my cool. “There is no way that my wife, who is normally as strong as an ox, would be lying on the table in the fetal position moaning unless something was wrong and I am not leaving until you agree to order an MRI.” The doctor said what had to be the most absurd thing she could have possibly said. But, she said it anyway, “Mr. Grundner, an MRI is an expensive exam and it is against my best medical judgment to order one.”

At this point I actually screamed out my reply, “I don’t care how expensive the exam is! It is the only logical next step. I am not a doctor, but as far as I am concerned, any problem can be mapped out on a ‘decision tree’ and in my opinion this was the next logical branch for us to look at since we’ve already crossed out the other branches.” In a belittling tone she said again, “It is against my best medical judgment. But if it will make you feel better, Mr. Grundner I will order one.” I really wanted to scream at the doctor again but I got what I wanted so I decided to just get Kelly into the car and leave.

This brings me back to Friday, as Kelly is telling me what happened at the doctor’s office with the doctor crying and everything, I remember thinking, “That stupid doctor should have cried after the way she treated Kelly and that she was going to be sorry when she had to face me.” However, that emotion was over as quickly as it started because I moved on to how horrible I felt about not being there for Kelly when she got the news. I wasn’t there to take her in my arms and comfort her at the time she needed me most.

When Kelly had made the appointment five days earlier, we had talked about whether or not I should cancel my trip to Memphis. She insisted, “Honey, I will be fine going to the appointment by myself. I’m not claustrophobic so I am not worried about the exam. Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Just go on your trip.” We also agreed that she wouldn’t even get the results until the following week anyway. So, I decided not to cancel my trip.

As the saying goes, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Neither of us anticipated that the morning would turn out the way it did. If we had, we would have chosen differently. That provides a small amount of solace now but it didn’t that day. The only relief I had was that I was pulling into the parking lot and saw Kelly in her car waiting for me.

I surprised Kelly when I pulled up next to her because we were still on the phone with one another. I remember the feeling I had as I quickly put the car in park, jumped out, rushed over and took her in my arms. We squeezed each other and cried together. Even with the worst news of our lives, we were just happy to be in each other’s arms again. We didn’t say much. There isn’t much you can say when you know you are about to start on a journey that will take you to the depths of physical and emotional hell with no promise of ever returning. I said to Kelly, “I’m so sorry for not being there when you needed me this morning. I promise from this point forward I will be there for you every step of the way, no matter what.”

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