Now it’s raining cats and dogs, accompanied by thunder and lightning that seem frighteningly close. God, please, just let us get back to sunny California. I feel very alone right now. Alone and scared.
Later 2:20 P.M.
I just finished the PET scan and I’m sitting in the office, waiting for Dr. Horr to give me his report. I wasn’t allowed to eat all day and I’m hungry, weak, and nervous. I’m wolfing down a banana and wishing there were something more to eat here. He’s calling me in now. Boy, is my heart pounding!
“Sit down.” He gestures to a chair in front of several computer screens lit up with slides of my body and brain.
“So, do I have any tumors?” I blurt out. I can’t wait any longer to know.
“No, no, you are fine,” he says matter-of-factly, not realizing that he’s just told me I still have a life to live. Thank you, God, thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll never complain again, I swear it!
Later 6:30 P.M.
I just left Dr. Rotorooter’s office in Munich. I wanted to get it all over with in one day. Gynecologists are really different here. First of all, there’s no nurse in the room when they examine you. He had me take off my clothes from the waist down and lean back in this large chair with my legs in stirrups, up in the air and wide apart. No sheet, nada. When he finished examining me, he sat back, took off his gloves, and proceeded to talk to me while I remained in the same spread-eagle position. All the while he was talking, I was wishing I had the camera and could shoot him from my point of view, framed by my wide-apart legs.
The good news was that everything had healed well. I then asked nervously if the cancer could come back. He said, as best as I could understand with his limited English, he had lasered the whole area and the surrounding tissue was cancer free. He added that I should still get Pap smears every few months. I guess I’ll never get a Pap smear again without holding my breath for the results.
So, now that this major worry is over, I can get on with my life. But it’s not the same life. How could it be? If this experience wasn’t a wake-up call, then I don’t know what is. I can now honestly say that I feel there’s a Higher Power out there who wants me to live. Maybe it’s so that I can be here for Farrah? I feel a deep sense of commitment to continuing this path with her, no matter where it might lead.
I started this journey with her, particularly the German part. I wanted her to come here because I thought they could help her. I felt she’d die if she stayed in the States, and now even some of the doctors there are admitting that she probably wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t come here. The first time she came, a year ago, I told her that I’d stay as long as she had to stay. After that, I felt like I had to come back with her because I knew the routine. I’m not being self-important; it was just a fact. I felt I had to stick by her.
I’m sure that a big part of it has to do with what happened with my grandmother and my mother. When my grandmother’s colon cancer came back, years ago, I didn’t try hard enough to make her go into Houston where there were better doctors. She didn’t want to leave Nacogdoches and the local doctor there, so I didn’t push it. At the time, a part of me may have even been relieved by her choice, because I didn’t know any doctors in Houston and it seemed overwhelming. Then she died, minutes before I arrived at the hospital, and I never got to say good-bye to her. I was devastated, and even now it brings tears to my eyes that I didn’t make more of an effort to spend time with her when she was alive. I’ve felt tremendous amounts of guilt about that ever since.
That guilt only got worse when, shortly after my grandmother’s death, my mother died of an overdose of prescription drugs. Once again I did not get a chance to say good-bye, leaving me riddled with guilt that I hadn’t done enough to save her.
So maybe, in some way, by doing this for Farrah, I’m atoning for the past when I didn’t give my all, for times when I allowed myself to be distracted or caught up or when I lost sight of the connections, the people in life who really matter. That’s why I’ve always gone the extra mile and more when it’s come to trying to save my sons from their addictions. I know from years in Al-Anon that I can’t “save” anyone, but if something happened to one of them and I hadn’t done everything in my power to help them, I couldn’t live with myself.
I don’t have a lot to give materially to my friends, but I can give my friendship and my time. This whole experience has changed forever the way I value friendship. Would someone do this for me? I know Farrah would.
It reminds me of this lovely birthday card Farrah gave me last year that I keep in the drawer next to my bed. On the front it has these two little girls with pigtails, holding hands, walking barefoot on a dirt road. It says, “By my side, step by step…that is where you are for me, that is where I will be for you.” On the inside she wrote the following:
Dearest Alana, not only do I wish you the happiest healthiest birthday but I want to say thank you for your unbelievable friendship. You are my best friend forever and I appreciate you and all you’ve done and continue to do from the bottom of my heart. I love you, sweet girl, and you are, as my mother would say, as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.
All my love,
Farrah
We called ourselves “The Do Nothing Girls.”
In 2001 we went down to Don Soffer’s big sprawling house in Harbour Island with our friend Nicollette Sheridan and my son Ash. Farrah and I did nothing but sleep late and lie around the pool (hence our nickname).
We took the Jeep one day because we wanted to drive down to the beach. When we got there, we walked along this beautiful deserted beach together, leaving our footprints in miles of pink sand. Farrah got the brilliant idea that she wanted to take the sand back to use in the sculptures she was doing for an exhibit at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. We went back to the house, got large baggies, then went back to the beach and filled them with sand, but they were so damn heavy that we could barely lift them.
“I can’t believe you’re making me carry this!” I complained.
But I did. We kept walking with our bags of sand in our arms, lugging them all the way back to the house.
When we were packing to leave Harbour Island, Farrah loaded the bags of sand in a box to take with her. I knew this was a bad idea; it was like tempting fate with customs. But that’s the thing about Farrah: when she decides she’s going to do something, it’s really hard to talk her out of it. Believe me I tried. In the end she won and the sand came with us.
We flew back with the sand on Don’s private plane and landed in Miami to go through customs. Not surprisingly, when the customs officers got to the box of pink sand, there was much discussion and delay. The official finally asked, “Did you get it off a private beach?”
We looked at each other and we didn’t know what to say—we were afraid they’d arrest us if we said the wrong thing.
After a long pause, Farrah flashed the officials one of her brightest smiles: “Can you make that a multiple-choice answer?”
Sure enough, we got through just fine, the bags of pink sand sitting pretty in our suitcases.
HARD CHOICES
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.
My Journey with Farrah Page 12
