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No Guarantees
My husband's tumor reminded us that the future is uncertain. How would we find hope and confidence to move ahead?
Paige Jaeger
 1 of 4
At my husband's 40th birthday party, friends offered him condolences, commented on his gray hairs and, in response to his complaints over the past two years about back pain, gave him an exercise video and hints to "toughen up." We all laughed.
But a week later, when Kurt walked into the house in severe pain after moving a pile of wood chips, we weren't laughing. As he collapsed on the couch and called for ibuprofen, I realized that yet another physical task something a healthy 40-year-old should be able to handle—had triggered unbearable back pain. Kurt couldn't even pick up our two-year-old son without wincing in pain. And at night, he could hardly sleep.
That afternoon, as I reached for the painkillers, the label warning hit home: "If pain persists, see a physician." Even more alarming was the rate at which my husband was gulping down the pills. He took four tablets at a time—more than triple the recommended amount—but got only minimal relief. We called the next morning to make a doctor's appointment.
Worst-Case Scenario
Kurt came home from seeing the orthopedist with two pages of test orders. Thinking so many tests were overkill, he got a second opinion from our internist. We began to take the situation seriously when our doctor recommended the tests be done without further delay.
The MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) of Kurt's upper spine was scheduled for that same evening to rule out, as the doctor put it, "the worst-case scenario." Although Kurt isn't claustrophobic, he cringed as they laid him flat on his aching back and slid him into the dark MRI chamber for the 30-minute test. As the machine-gun cacophony of the MRI beat in his ears, suddenly Kurt was less than comforted at the thought of "ruling out a tumor."
After an hour and a half in the MRI tunnel, they rolled him out and the radiologist explained that he would have to give Kurt an injection for better resolution.
"Can't you tell me what's wrong?" Kurt demanded. "We just spent over an hour on a test that was supposed to take 30 minutes!"
The radiologist reluctantly explained that they had found a "rather large growth" inside my husband's spine. Then they rolled Kurt back inside the tube. For another 30 minutes, he suffered not only more physical pain, but now growing panic. "A growth? Does that mean a tumor? Will I die from this? Will I be around to raise my boys?" Lying there, alone and in despair, tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to control his sobbing.
"Try to remain still," came the voice of the radiologist as it resonated within the long tube. "There's too much chest movement."
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