June 25, 2008
I’m so stressed out! Why can’t life be simple? Sean’s friend and publicist, Lizzie Grubman, called and said that Sean had written this incredibly touching letter to read to me at his graduation from rehab on Sunday. It says I’m the most important person in his life and the most supportive. Lizzie said it made her cry and that I have to be there on Sunday, in Los Angeles. How can I do this? Farrah is having a terrible day, with pain and nausea. Dr. Jacob had to give her so much medication that she’s been sleeping all day. How can I leave her? I was thinking that maybe, if I can get his show, Celebrity Rehab, to fly me home, I could come in for Sean’s graduation on Sunday and come back on Monday. His manager is trying to get the show to pay for it. I’ll know tomorrow. Am I crazy? Can I physically do this?
Right now, I’m torn between two people I love who both need me. I don’t want to desert Farrah, and yet I don’t want to disappoint Sean. He’s really counting on my being there because originally we were coming home before now. I know he’ll be crushed if I don’t show up. But I’m also afraid that because Farrah relies on me so much, she’ll feel very abandoned. I wasn’t going to worry her until I got it sorted out. But at last, I shared my dilemma with her.
“If I go, I’ll come straight back,” I promised.
I could tell she was nervous about it, but she said, “Don’t worry. If you need to go, I understand. It’s your son.” Of course she would understand because her own son, Redmond, means so much to her.
On top of it, Kim’s going through a really rough time in London. She wants me to come there and be with her. Our big issue is that she’s always felt I was there for the boys, with all their problems, and that she didn’t get as much of my time or attention. And of course I feel terribly guilty because of it.
I sent her an e-mail saying that I know I can’t change the past, but that I will try to be there for her now, in any way I can. I said that after I got home and got things straightened out there, I would go stay with her in London. I didn’t mention that I might be going home for Sean’s graduation. I know that would be another sore point. Once again she’ll feel like I was there for him and not for her.
Now Dr. Jacob says that there’s no way Farrah can travel before next Wednesday. I can’t figure all this out and I’ve got knots in my stomach. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction. I’m trying to be completely selfless here, but what do I do when everybody seems to need me at once?
June 26, 2008
Farrah is somewhat better today. Dr. Jacob said she would stay with her over the weekend if I end up going, so that’s a relief. I just got an e-mail from Sean’s manager saying that the network and the producers won’t pay for my travel. I wish I could handle situations like this without getting so stressed out. Making difficult decisions seems to affect my whole system to the extent that I can’t think clearly. It feels like my brain is on the spin cycle of a washing machine. The thought of getting on a plane, flying all those hours, being jet-lagged, having to show up at the graduation ceremony, which may entail being there all day because they’re filming it—it’s overwhelming. Not to mention racing back to Germany to be with Farrah.
June 27, 2008
By the time I went to bed last night, I was exhausted and practically in tears. I started to feel unwell again, obviously brought on by stress. I talked to Lizzie, and she said I just had to be there for Sean. Apparently his girlfriend Caleigh broke up with him because she thought he’d cheated on her with some girl on the show, and Ash won’t do it, so I was the only one. I spoke to Sean and his manager, Prem, and said I’d be there. I booked a flight for Saturday, so I could make Sean’s graduation ceremony on Sunday. So it was settled. I felt terrible about leaving Farrah, but I knew I had to be there for my son. I told Farrah I’d turn around and come straight back if Ryan or someone else couldn’t come over to accompany her back.
Then I got an urgent e-mail from Sean’s manager to please call him right away. It seems that the producers had just changed the graduation to Saturday afternoon, which made it completely impossible for me to get there. I told him there was no way I could change everything to leave today. I couldn’t pack, check out of the clinic, and get to Munich in time for the plane. Besides that, there were no seats available. I felt terrible for Sean, but this was now out of my hands. It was the producers’ fault that I wouldn’t be there, not mine.
I called Sean in tears, and he seemed absolutely fine. He said, “Mom, I can’t talk. I have to go arm-wrestle Rodney King.” Then he put Rodney King on the phone with me. He’s his roommate on the show. Yes, the same Rodney King that caused the L.A. riots after he led the police on a high-speed chase and they beat him up.
I had put it in God’s hands, and God worked it out. It took a huge load off of me—especially the worry about leaving Farrah. At least Sean knows I was going to show up for him until the producers made it impossible. I learned something very important from this experience, something I’ve seen over and over in the past: if I can just give a difficult situation to God, have faith, and let my mind be peaceful instead of being stressed out and anxious, it will all work out. It always does. And yet it seems I still have to be practically hit over the head with it before I finally get it. Sometimes fear can be so powerful that my faith temporarily goes out the window.
June 28, 2008
It’s starting to seem like we’ll never get out of here. As of now, we’re booked to leave on Tuesday, but Farrah was sick again today. I’ve never seen her so weak and frail. Every time she eats, she gets nauseated and throws up. Dr. Jacob says it’s because her liver is still so swollen from the perfusion as well as the three surgeries before it. I feel like they’re doing way too much to her body. I’m afraid they’re going to kill her trying to cure her. I’m starting to think about getting her home on an ambulance plane and putting her into St. John’s in L.A. I have faith in Dr. Jacob—and there’s no one more brilliant in her approach to treating cancer—but she does really push the limits.
I went by Mimmo’s for lunch and sat outside in the garden at his special table, tucked away under an arbor of green trees and surrounded by colorful summer flowers. As I sat looking out at the people dining under the azure blue umbrellas, the tables covered with crisp white linens, I had the most fabulous lunch: a salad of arugula and Pecorino, and homemade macaroni with turkey Bolognese.
When he came over to join me and have his lunch, Mimmo said he had to leave early because he had a pedicure appointment. I couldn’t believe it! I said I’d never seen a man do so much to himself—pedicures, bronzing, bicycling, spinning, working out at the gym. But am I forgetting who I was married to? Rod, when I met him, wore leopard stretch pants and eye makeup (only on-stage, thank God) and was very high maintenance. Then there’s George, who has more shoes than Imelda Marcos and Ivana Trump put together, and who takes longer to get ready to go out than I do.
Mimmo said it was very important to him to be well groomed, and also for any woman he’s with to be the same. I was glad I wasn’t wearing sandals. I haven’t had a pedicure in six weeks. Somehow cancer, Farrah’s and mine, has trumped manicures, pedicures, and getting roots done.
I told him I felt things were different between us and asked if he felt it, too. He said that when he came back after his last trip to Los Angeles, he missed me so much that it was very painful for him. He said he realized that there was no way we could see each other more than a few times a year and that he felt he had to pull back a little to “protect his heart.”
It felt good to clear the air and talk about our feelings, but I don’t think either of us knows where to go from here. Will we become just friends? I guess time will sort it out. We don’t have any future that I can see. I’m not in love with him…or am I? I surely can’t imagine myself married to him. It’s kind of sad. It’s been a lovely romance, but maybe it’s time for it to end.
June 29, 2008
Yet another crisis! Farrah’s much better, thank God, and wants to leave on Tuesday, but now there are other issues with the kids.
Kimberly called and said she’s really having a hard time and wants to come here. When it comes to the kids, I know Rod always thinks that I’m overprotective, and that they’re grown and should be able to handle their own lives. That’s true, to a large extent, but kids sometimes need some help and support from their parents, no matter what their age. She’s just moved to another country, which alone is incredibly stressful, but she’s also dealing with having bought an apartment and trying to decorate it while negotiating complicated work contracts. Not to mention that everyone is giving her different advice. She feels understandably overwhelmed and, on top of it, isn’t feeling at all well physically. I’m worried about her. She wants to come here today, so I’m trying to arrange it. Now I’m leaving Tuesday, and I feel pulled again in different directions. I don’t want to desert my daughter when she needs me, and yet I can’t let Farrah travel on her own. Oh God, why is this happening again?
June 30, 2008
I guess God doesn’t want me to leave yet. Kim arrived last night around 10 P.M. I was so happy to see her. She begged me to stay longer, but Farrah was pretty intent on leaving Tuesday. She felt much better today, and she insisted on doing aquatics for quite a long time in the pool, which I thought was too much too soon, but of course she’s very determined when she wants to do something. I’d really prefer leaving Wednesday or Thursday, so I could spend more time with Kimberly, but I don’t know if Farrah will budge. My feeling is that we’ve been here five weeks, so what’s two more days going to matter?
Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of my hands. Farrah was sick again all night. Now Dr. Jacob says there’s no way we can leave tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s because she’s not well, but I’m relieved at the same time. It’s a lot to finalize—the bills, the tips, the packing, not to mention organizing all the medications we have to take home.
July 1, 2008
Kim and I had a really nice dinner at Mimmo’s. I was surprised at how nice she was to him, and he was so sweet to both of us. He’d bought me a bag of the white peaches he knows I love. When we got back to the clinic, Kim asked why I didn’t go have a drink and “hang out” with Mimmo. I told her things were a little strained and complicated at the moment. We ended up sitting in my room, talking for a really long time. She said she thought Mimmo was great looking and very sweet and pointed out how much he tries to please me. “Mom, he even bought you those apricots and I didn’t even know you liked them.” White peaches, I told her, but never mind.
She asked me about her dad and me—how we met, why we broke up. She said he always told her the biggest problem was that I didn’t like his friends. I admitted that was partly true and that I knew I was wrong. I’d realized after the fact that I regretted resenting his friends and his soccer playing. I think I resented anything—his work included—that took him away from me and the kids. He had his part, too, like staying out all night with the boys in the band after a recording session. As it became a regular occurrence, I became angrier because it was so different from the way things had been in the beginning. We’d been so wrapped up in each other, so madly in love in the first couple of years of our relationship, and when it began to slowly change, I desperately tried to hold on to what it had been.
Now, of course, I know that’s never possible. Relationships always evolve and change. But I didn’t understand that at the time; neither of us did. We were just both immature and stubborn.
This conversation was the first time Kimberly and I had ever talked so intimately. I feel like we’re starting to have a closer relationship, which is what I’ve prayed for, for a long time. I love my daughter so much. She can certainly be difficult, but she’s getting more open and understanding, and I really want to try to make up for whatever I didn’t or couldn’t do when she was younger.
It’s strange how things happen for the better when you least expect them. That a new relationship with my daughter should emerge in the midst of all this hell and chaos. I am learning so much about myself, about how if you open your heart, God heals it in wonderful ways. Had I not been here with Farrah, Kim and I never would have had this time together to talk and reconnect.
Maybe I’m also a changed person these days. A little sadder, yes, but a little wiser. A little more appreciative of what really matters in life. I feel like this experience of putting someone’s needs before my own has spilled over into other areas of my life as well. Once you start to be a more giving person, it feels good, it feels right. People think that when you give, you deplete yourself. But I know now that it’s the opposite; the more you give, the more you get in return.
July 2, 2008
Well, we’re finally leaving tomorrow. Farrah’s much better today. I’m a little nervous about the flight home. I just hope she’s not leaving too soon, like the time before, when she insisted on leaving five days after laser surgery on her liver. It was a horrendous trip home, and I don’t ever want to go through that again, for her sake or mine.
Dr. Jacob said she’s thrilled with the results of Farrah’s treatment, that Farrah has made remarkable progress in these five weeks. She even went so far as to say that she considers Farrah in partial remission. This is unbelievable. Now, if things start to go more smoothly, and God forbid no more setbacks, she can go home and continue to get stronger.
July 3, 2008
We’re on the plane back to Los Angeles. Farrah’s sleeping in the seat next to me. She could barely get herself together at the clinic to make it onto the plane—her usual packing chaos. Fortunately, I’d lied to her about the time (I don’t know why I didn’t try that sooner), and there wasn’t horrible traffic, so we made the plane in good time. I knew in my heart that she should have waited a few more days, but she was hell-bent and determined to get home. I told her if she threw up all the way home that she wouldn’t have to worry about dying, because I would kill her!
She was just starting to feel very nauseated and in a lot of pain, so I gave her the pain shot that Dr. Jacob had given me. It did the trick. Please, God, just let us get to L.A. without any problems, get through customs, get in the car, and get home. They’ll have a wheelchair at the plane, and with luck there will be no paparazzi.
We arrived in Los Angeles without any incidents. Not even any paparazzi. We stopped at our favorite Starbucks by the airport and I got us chai teas, and then we dropped Farrah off and Benny took me to the house. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see my dogs.
July 4, 2008
I celebrated the Fourth of July by doing absolutely nothing. I was so jet-lagged that all I wanted to do was to be home with the dogs and Fox News. Farrah and Ryan didn’t go to the beach. The nurse that I had arranged for with Dr. Piro has been there helping her. I’m trying to unpack a little at a time and make some headway with the stacks of mail.
July 6, 2008
Farrah said she was craving smothered chicken and black-eyed peas and it sounded so good that I decided to cook a southern meal like we had when we were growing up in Texas. I asked Sean and Ashley to come to dinner by themselves because I wanted to talk to them. I decided to tell them about the cancer episode before Rod told Sean, if he hadn’t already. Rod knows because apparently Kimberly was in Harrods with him when she found out and she burst into tears.
Anyway, I feel like it was a wake-up call for all of us to be closer and to realize how important family is. I cooked the entire meal in two hours: smothered chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, broccoli, cornbread, and peach cobbler—almost as good as Mama used to make.
After dinner, I took Ashley and Sean into my bedroom. Sean asked me if I was “dying or something.” He said it sort of jokingly, but obviously his father had already opened his mouth. I prefaced it by saying that I was okay and didn’t want to scare them, but after thinking a lot about it, I thought they should know. I said that I hoped we could all be closer and spend more time together as a family, and that it was important to love and support one another because you never know what’s going to happen in life.
Ash was visibly shaken. Sean said his dad had already told him, which I figured. I’m glad we talked. I want to spend more time with my kids and I want them to be more supportive and loving with one another. Being with Farrah this past year and seeing all she’s gone through has made me realize how much time I spend rushing through life. I know my kids do, too. Maybe we all do these days. But it’s time for me to slow down and really appreciate the love I have in my life.
July 18, 2008
I just meditated on an amazing page in A Course in Miracles. The title of the lesson is “I will be still an instant and go home.” The part that stood out so clearly was about how there is this child inside each of us who is seeking comfort, but it won’t be found in the outer world. We must go inside, be still, let the world recede from our minds, let valueless ideas spinning in our heads be quiet, and hear His voice. In that instant, we will be at home, our true home, “in perfect peace, beyond all words, untouched by fear and doubt, sublimely certain that we are home.” I realized that this is what I’ve been searching for. I’m deeply exhausted and depleted—mentally, physically, emotionally—and I desperately wish I had someone to just put their arms around me and tell me everything will be okay.
Farrah and I were talking about that yesterday: a deep philosophical conversation. I said how nice it would be to have a man take care of me for a change. How a nice, boring, stable man suddenly looks so attractive to me at this point in my life. But maybe it doesn’t ever come from a man? Or maybe, I told her, it can only come from a higher source. From going inside and connecting with that sense of peace and joy and power inside of us.
All I know is that I felt this deep, deep sense of letting go. I felt this golden light wash over me, and I felt a sense of comfort and peace that I’ve never felt before. I felt as if someone were actually cradling me and telling me I’m safe. I felt such a sense of well-being. I’ve searched for this feeling in everything: men, drugs, spiritual pursuits. I’d go anywhere to try to get it, even if only momentarily, and I just felt it so deeply, with such an intensity.
Will it last? I don’t know. But I know I feel like my tank has been filled. I feel like I can go to London, be there for Kimberly, do whatever I need to do to take care of my own life, without feeling so deeply, desperately depleted. Without feeling like I’m running on empty.
I have to remember that this is the place I must go; that it’s always available to me. I don’t need to continue looking for it in all the wrong places.
August 29, 2008
I got up at six thirty this morning to come out to the City of Hope with Farrah and Ryan. She’s starting a new clinical trial treatment today with Dr. Forman. It’s called the IT-101 and everyone feels very hopeful and optimistic about it. The actual trial itself was completed a couple of years ago by about twenty people, but no results have been released yet because it’s not FDA approved and I guess they have to wait a certain amount of time. The doctor had to get special permission to do it now with her. She’s spent the last six weeks waiting to get cleared for this trial, and during this time she hasn’t been able to take any of her anticancer medications from Germany. Apparently they might interfere with this new treatment.
It’s 4:30 P.M. and I’ve come downstairs to get some tea and some fresh air. Farrah is having the chemo infusion now, which takes six hours altogether, so we probably won’t be leaving here until seven or eight. I’m exhausted, but I’m glad I came. I’ve been filming most of the day and I think I got some great footage. This film is probably going to be difficult for people to watch at times. Like today, when it took almost an hour for the nurse to get the needle into one of Farrah’s veins because they’re all so shot from chemo and IVs during the last two years. It was excruciatingly painful for her and so hard to watch her go through it. She’s so brave.
September 26, 2008
Yesterday I picked Farrah up at 8 A.M. to drive to the City of Hope for her third treatment of chemo in this trial. It was a long, grueling day for her. Nothing seemed to go smoothly. As usual, they couldn’t find a vein for the IV line. After numerous tries by two different nurses, they were finally successful, but then the doctor had to wait for her blood results before he could write up the order for the chemo. We didn’t leave there until almost ten o’clock at night. I don’t know how she gets through it. I was completely exhausted.
I think I don’t allow myself to fully accept that she’s truly fighting for her life, and if this trial doesn’t work, there may not be a next step. I can’t conceive of it; it doesn’t seem possible. She looks so good—you would hardly know she was ill. She’s just the same Farrah I’ve always known; we’re two girlfriends talking about our lives, our children, our clothes. Yet now a lot of our conversation revolves around cancer. She still maintains her sense of humor, though. Today she was joking about filling in the order forms to renew her magazine subscriptions. She said, “You have to check one year, two years, or three years. Hmm. I always wonder which one I should put.” Again, she finds the humor in almost every situation.
As for me, it’s hard for me to believe all this is real. We both said we feel like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing is real and we’re walking through a dream. I wish we would wake up and it would all be gone.
P.S. I have my own medical update. My Pap test came back from UCLA and it’s not normal again. I’m still trying to understand Dr. Rapkin’s very complicated explanation. I have to do a test every four months, and if it goes to the next stage, then I have to have another biopsy. Then, if it turns into cancer, a radical hysterectomy! I can’t quite believe all this is happening again. Of course she said that in only 10 percent of women does it actually turn into cancer. God, I feel like I’m living with a possible time bomb inside me. Maybe I’m being overly dramatic, but just thinking about it terrifies me. So I guess I won’t think about it. I can’t do anything about it now anyway.
September 27, 2008
I was finishing baking my cake to take to the movie tonight at Carole and Bob’s when Farrah called. She could barely speak. She’s been throwing up nonstop since six this morning. I said I’d come right over and take her to the hospital, but as usual she resisted.
“Okay, but I’m going to call Dr. Piro,” I said. When I reached Dr. Piro, I told him she sounded terrible and asked if he would call her right away and then call me back. He said that he told Farrah to dissolve two Ativan under her tongue and that would relax her, put her to sleep, and hopefully stop the vomiting. I tried to reach her afterward, but there was no answer, so I assumed she was already sleeping.
I left for Carole and Bob’s house, but I was worried because I still hadn’t heard from Farrah. I was relieved to see Dr. Piro there, who was a guest for the movie as well. We tried to call her together, but once again there was no answer.
“She’s probably just sleeping,” he said, and I agreed with him. But I still hadn’t heard from her when I went to bed later. I couldn’t sleep; I kept tossing and turning. I was worried out of my mind. I thought about going over there, but the doorman probably wouldn’t have let me up without calling and she wasn’t answering the phone. Maybe I was just being silly. She was probably sleeping soundly. It’s just that I can’t get the memories of my mother out of my head. Many years ago, when I was married to George, I had kept calling and calling her and she didn’t answer. I just assumed she’d turned off her phone as she usually did when she wanted to sleep and didn’t want to be bothered. But that wasn’t the case this time. She died of an overdose of drugs, and I wasn’t there to save her.
Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep, making sure I’d left the phone right next to my bed.
September 28, 2008
Farrah finally called this morning. She had been up and down all night throwing up. She was still weak, but finally the vomiting had stopped. I told her she can’t stay in that apartment alone like this. Someone has to be there with her. She’s so independent and doesn’t think she needs it, but I see it differently.
September 30, 2008
I took Ashley to Il Sole for his birthday. He brought three of his friends and it was a really lovely, quiet evening. It’s wonderful to see him sober and looking so good and seemingly in a good place. I guess I’ll always worry about him after all the years when he was using. I noticed he had started smoking again, and that scares me, of course.
October 5, 2008
Farrah called tonight. I’ve never heard her sound so low and so hopeless. She said that sometimes she felt like she couldn’t go on, that she didn’t feel like fighting anymore. It was all too much. I can’t blame her. How much can one person take? Two years of painful treatments, life-altering surgeries, and now going through these problems with her son. She told me that she’s afraid Redmond may go to prison. I know how she feels; I’ve been there, too. It’s something we talk about often: our kids. I told her that Sean just went back into rehab and how worried I’ve been about him. At least now, I told her, I can breathe a little easier, knowing he’s safe, even if it’s just for thirty days.
Photographic Insert
This was taken at a party at my house back in 1984. Farrah and I are with my daughter Kimberly and my son Sean.
Here we are at a dinner party I threw at my house for Elton John in 1987. When Elton arrived he turned to me and asked, “Where’s the piano?” to which I replied that I didn’t have one. The next morning, a delivery truck arrived in my driveway with, what else, a baby grand from Elton.
Front row (left to right): Wendy Stark, Suzanne de Passe, me, Farrah, and Tina Sinatra.
Back row (left to right): Bob Halley, David Niven Jr., Ryan O’Neal, and Elton John.
This is from New Year’s Eve 1986, during the last bash at the house I shared with Rod. I was moving out two days later, so I was ready to celebrate a new beginning with my friends.
A quiet dinner out in Malibu with good friends in 1987. From left to right: me, Ryan, Farrah, and Michael Black.
Farrah snuggling up to Ryan at my birthday party in 1989.
Birthdays were always a big deal for us, and we made sure to celebrate the milestones each year. This photo was taken at Farrah’s birthday in 1988 as she tried on one of her presents.
At the Mirabella magazine party, June 1989. From left to right: Jerry and Linda Bruckheimer, Ryan, Farrah, me, and Tina Sinatra.
Alan Carr, Tina Sinatra, Ryan, and Farrah at the home of Tina’s father, Frank Sinatra.
Me, a young Kimberly, and Farrah. Growing up, my daughter always admired Farrah’s style.
For my birthday in 1989, Suzanne de Passe threw me a party at her house. The theme was country-western, and she served Texas soul food and hired a band to play country tunes.
From left to right: me, Suzanne de Passe, Farrah, and Tina Sinatra.
Farrah truly looks overjoyed here at her birthday in 1991.
Ryan and Farrah have always been the golden couple to me.
For my birthday in 1991, Alan Carr threw me a dinner party at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles. Here I am pictured with the host (far right), Farrah, and Barry Diller (second from the left).
A snapshot of just the girls at my birthday in 1991. From left to right: Dyan Cannon, me, Tina Sinatra, and Farrah.
Farrah with my daughter Kimberly.
Farrah and Ryan ringing in the holidays at my home in 1992.
Laurie Lynn Stark, a friend of ours who owns the store Chrome Hearts, took photos with this big old-fashioned Polaroid. Farrah and I stopped by the showroom and didn’t expect to be photographed—I didn’t have a stitch of makeup on. But I think it looks like we both have attitude.
Courtesy of Laurie Lynn Stark
Almost a week after I found out about Farrah’s diagnosis, Tina Sinatra and I went over to Farrah’s house to see her for the first time. Tina brought Farrah this humongous bear. Despite the chemo, our friend looked radiant and determined to fight.
Mimmo asked us to pose with him in this photo so he could hang it in his restaurant.
It was Christmas 2007 and Farrah and I whipped up our traditional holiday pies—pecan and coconut meringue.
We spent New Year’s Eve 2007 at Tina Sinatra’s. We had dinner, watched a movie in our pj’s, tuned in to the ball dropping in Times Square at midnight, and celebrated with some champagne.
Farrah with Kimberly and me during Christmas 2007.
Farrah with her son Redmond and my daughter Kimberly at the Leonardis Clinic in June 2007.
In March 2008, Farrah and I escaped to Mexico shortly after her fourth trip to Germany when they declared her tumor free. It was the last time I remember Farrah really feeling good for a prolonged period of time.
As difficult as it was sometimes to be in Germany, the clinic was in such a beautiful part of Bavaria that it made things a little easier.
Keeping the faith in May 2008. Farrah was back in the hospital just before surgery with Dr. Kiehling. She’s holding her rosaries, as she always did before any surgery or procedure. It was her ritual to say a quick prayer and kiss them.
Me, Dr. Jacob, Farrah, and Ryan enjoying dinner on our first trip to Germany.
Here we are at a makeshift slumber party in February 2008. This very sweet girl, Francoise Shirley, who had a company called Sleepyheads, asked if we could send her a picture of us in the pj’s. We loved these flannel pj’s, so we put Farrah’s pink boa around our necks and climbed into her bed at the clinic to pose.
We talked for a long time, and when we hung up she was in better spirits. I told her it’s only normal to feel hopeless and depressed with all she’s going through. I don’t know how she’s doing it. I tell her again and again that she doesn’t realize how courageous she is, that she’s the bravest person I’ve ever known.
Her scan is this week, and we’ll know if the tumors are smaller, larger, or the same. She’s scared. I keep telling her it’s going to be okay, but truthfully, I’m scared, too. God, we just need a miracle. Please let there be good news. I don’t know how much more of this she can take. Thank you, God. Amen.
October 9, 2008
This is the big day. I’m sitting here in the waiting room at Dr. Piro’s clinic while Farrah waits for the radioactive material they’ve just injected her with to take effect. Then they will do the CT and PET scans. We were just laughing and talking…like we would on any normal day, about clothes, where we would eat afterward, going by to look at Jaguars if we had time. And yet after these scans are done, we’ll know the results, and her life could be radically changed—yet again. If the tumors haven’t responded to the trial at City of Hope and have grown larger or multiplied, I can’t even imagine what the next step will be. But I’m not going there now. I feel in my heart it’s going to be good news. But I’ve been wrong before, time and time again. So I’m frightened.
Later
It wasn’t exactly good news. Dr. Piro called us into the scan room and showed us on the screens where the active tumors were. We were both pretty shocked to hear that not only have the ones in the liver grown larger and multiplied but the primary one has returned and there appears to be activity in a lymph gland as well. Farrah didn’t cry. She asked questions and listened thoughtfully to the answers, but she was so disappointed. This was so not what we had expected. Dr. Piro went on to say that the growth might have occurred during the five or six weeks while she was waiting for Dr. Forman to get the approval to start the trial. He called Dr. Forman, who said that he would like to do three more treatments and then recheck the tumors in six weeks. He feels he needs more time for the drugs to work (if they’re going to was the part left unsaid).
I think we both grasped onto the hope that the drug will kick in and the next scan will show an improvement. We were both quiet when we got into the car. Finally, I just said, “I’m so sorry.” She got teary, but stayed amazingly strong and brave. She seems so fragile right now, my heart just breaks for her. I searched for something to say that would cheer her up, some thread of optimism. I reminded her that the man who was in the documentary about this chemo trial had been given two weeks to live and this drug saved him and he was still alive and thriving some years later.
We had planned to possibly go look at Jaguars today because her car lease was up and she needed to find another one right away. I figured it was out of the question now, but she said, out of the blue, “Let’s go look at those Jags.” So we put it all behind us and went off to the Jag showroom. Soon we were oohing and aahing over the beautiful new cars and it was as if we were just girlfriends on a shopping trip again. In the end, the man wasn’t able to give her a very good deal, so we went straight to Mercedes, where she found a car she loved.
When she had to make the decision about the number of years she wanted to lease it, she looked at me and smiled wryly. “This is where I always have trouble…”
Even in the middle of everything, we still had girls’ night in.
It was right after New Year’s, January 2, 2009. Farrah, Tina, Wendy Stark, and I all went over to Tina’s new house so that Farrah could see it. I was so glad she was getting out of the house for a fun evening. She needed it; we all did.
Tina’s house was so warm and Christmasy. We posed in front of the twinkling Christmas tree, which Tina always keeps up long after Christmas. Wendy brought a pound of decadent caviar, and we ate it on baked potatoes that Tina made. Farrah looked so good, so vibrant. Amazing, in fact, considering all she’d been through. We toasted to her health with champagne.
After a while, Farrah started to feel weak and had to lie down. Suddenly it was like we were back in reality, the past two years catching up with us in an instant. She was having these weird symptoms—one leg was swollen twice the size of the other one—and we were hoping for answers on Monday when she had a scan.
Just for this brief moment, this girls’ get-together, we were happy and not thinking of what tomorrow or Monday might hold. We were not worrying about Farrah or the doctors or cancer. We were simply in the here and now with the happiness and hope of a bright new year—a group of friends who’d been through it all.