Jeremy Fine, M.D., was the ridiculously young and handsome internist who supervised my general overall health. He also happened to be single. I was so taken by him that I immediately wanted to hook him up with my daughter. I underwent extensive medical tests to be sure I could handle more surgery. I was going to undergo eight hours under anesthesia with three separate operations. He made sure there were absolutely no underlying problems. He ordered blood work, EKGs, and every conceivable kind of test, including a mammogram at the Beverly Tower Women’s Center before approving breast surgery, which was exactly what every good plastic surgeon requires. Fortunately, I was as healthy as a horse.
Dr. Lance Wyatt was a wonderful plastic surgeon. His office staff was simply amazing, and he did the most beautiful body work. Menopause had hit me hard, and I had gotten quite soft. I always worked out, but I had “things” on my sides that I could not get rid of no matter what I did. He promised me that liposuction would make them disappear. He also promised to give my breasts a lift.
It became very clear to me how revered Dr. Azizzadeh was as I met with all these other doctors. Each and every one of them was happy to do anything with him and for him because he had such a stellar reputation. William Slattery was a renowned ear specialist at the House Clinic Los Angeles. The ear problems I’d had since the shooting were the most debilitating to my daily life. My previous operations had left me with an ear canal that was so full of scar tissue that it had shrunk to nothing more than a tiny pinprick hole. Ear infections were just a part of my life. Every now and then, my ear would start oozing, and I’d have to rush to the doctor to have it cleaned out. My ear canal could no longer drain itself properly and was a constant source of pain and aggravation. The pain when my ear became infected was agonizing, but just something I had learned to accept. I was also completely deaf in that ear, but I had adjusted to that, as well.
Dr. Slattery conducted a number of hearing tests on me, and we discussed the possibility of a state-of-the-art cochlear implant to cure my deafness. When I learned what was involved—actually screwing the implant into the skull and snapping a tiny hearing implement on and off—I decided it wasn’t for me. I had more or less adjusted to complete hearing loss in one ear. The thought of screwing anything into my skull made me nervous. I appreciated that these implants were an amazing invention, but I had learned to compensate for the hearing loss. Dr. Slattery could easily see that the pinhole opening was causing all the other problems, so he planned to open up the hole in my ear canal, thus making it possible for me to clean it with a Q-tip.
The right side of my throat was completely paralyzed, and even now I had a great deal of trouble swallowing. I had learned to compensate over the years by taking smaller bites, chewing longer, and always drinking water with meals because food goes down very slowly when I swallow. One half of my throat was doing all the work instead of both sides. Dr. David Alessi did a barium swallow test to follow exactly what was going on and, among other tips, taught me to turn my head as I swallowed. It was just a simple trick, but it made food go down so much more easily. Dr. Theresa England from Premier Surgery worked with me on physical therapy exercises to loosen my facial paralysis and allow the muscles to move more freely. They had many innovative ideas on how to stretch, move, and work those damaged muscles.
Dr. Robert Sachs performed Lasik surgery on my eyes. The nerves in my right eye had been damaged, of course, and much of that could not be repaired. He did a number of tests on my vision to adjust the Lasik for my injury, which made it quite a bit more complicated than usual. Nicholas Manley, Dr. Azizzadeh’s right-hand man, was my rock throughout. I absolutely adored him. He kept all my appointments straight through the Lapeer Surgical Center, where my surgery took place with this team of premier doctors. When the big day arrived, a camera crew from Oprah taped my entire eight-hour surgery, which is quite a long time to be knocked out and under the knife. There was extensive work to be done, and every minute was painstakingly scheduled to allow each doctor to work in his or her particular area of specialty.
MARY JO’S LIFE LIFT:
Pre-testing, blood work, overall health supervision (Dr. Jeremy Fine) Liposuction and breast lift (Dr. Lance Wyatt)
Neck lift, facelift, upper and lower eyelid surgery, chemical peel, Botox injections (Dr. Babak Azizzedeh)
Reconstruction of right ear canal (Dr. William Slattery) Facial muscle stimulation, throat barium test (Dr. David Alessi, Dr. Theresa England)
Lasik eye surgery (Dr. Robert Sachs)
Hairstyling (Yuki Sharoni Beauty and Lifestyle Salon and Spa—Beverly Hills)
Stu, naturally, was very worried. It was a major eight-hour surgery, and he was afraid of the effects of the anesthesia—that I wouldn’t wake up or that something would go wrong. I didn’t want him sitting outside waiting for eight long hours. There was nothing he could do. I insisted he go to work just like he would on a regular day. I later learned that the staff checked in by phone with him every hour, giving him updates. “She’s doing great; they’re working on her ear right now.” An hour later, “All is well. Dr. Wyatt is doing her liposuction for the next half hour.” They continually assured him that I was in the best hands, just one more example of their outstanding consideration.
I can’t say I felt too hot when I woke up, and I looked like I’d emerged from a very bad car accident. The one good thing about my history was the fact that I’d been seriously hurt before. I had known going into this exactly what I was signing on for. This, too, would pass, and the amazing power of the human body to recover would soon kick in. Still, all those procedures really kicked my ass. Fortunately, I was whisked off to a medical recovery facility for three days where I was cared for by the kindest nurses I have ever known. I was thankful for the extra-special coddling—not to mention that this recovery period spared Stu and my kids the sight of me immediately following major surgery. I was quite a sight.
Serenity Surgery Aftercare Facility was a wonderful haven. I could not have possibly dreamed of being so pampered. When I arrived, I was wrapped up like a mummy, and it was an ordeal just to go to the bathroom. The nurses were with me every minute. Had I not been so beaten up from the surgery, my stay would have been just like visiting a top-notch spa. Ladies, if you’re getting extensive surgery, I cannot recommend this aftercare enough. I didn’t want to leave! But leave I did, to continue recovering at home. I anxiously waited to see if a butterfly would emerge from this cocoon!
I had been a bit self-conscious about my facial injury for years—and no one likes getting old and saggy—but I had so much to be grateful for. I could walk, I could talk, my brain still worked, and I had a mate who loved me exactly as I was, so why complain? Many people endured terrible tragedies in their lives. I didn’t have it any worse—I actually had it much better—than plenty of people out there. Yes, I lost part of my hearing for good. Yes, half of my face was frozen permanently, but I had adjusted to those realities because I had no choice. I had to.
I was officially divorced and in a loving, healthy relationship. My children had weathered the storm and were doing well. I had made peace with my parents and Amy Fisher. I no longer wallowed in the past. I didn’t mope around pitying myself anymore. I believe that this change in attitude is why I was given the most wonderful gift of what I called my Life Lift. Out of the blue, the most brilliant and dedicated doctors appeared and wanted to help me. From the nurses, to the operating room staff, to the recovery room, every last person I met was so kind, loving, and anxious to do something good for me. I was completely taken aback by their skill and generosity. It was almost too much to be the recipient of all this largesse. I knew I would never be able to adequately express my appreciation.
As the months passed and I healed completely, I was even more awed by the talent of all my doctors. I looked amazing! I also felt better than I had since the day, I was shot. From the moment I awoke, I noticed a major difference in my ear. To this day, I suffer from minor ear infections that cause some pain, bu
t the contrast is night and day. Now I can address the problem myself with a Q-tip and drops. The discomfort is fleeting, and there have been no more horrendous infections. That particular surgery changed my life in a very profound way. Dr. Slattery addressed the lingering trauma of the bullet injury. And Dr. Sachs made it possible for me to read again without glasses, a wonderful benefit for me! Finally, the Botox Dr. Azizzadeh injected worked on my nerves in the exact opposite way it works on most people—instead of freezing the muscle, it relaxed the damaged nerves and provided me relief I hadn’t felt in years. I had never even dreamed of such a transformation.
Restoring my looks, and the functionality of my facial muscles and hearing, restored an inner confidence that I hadn’t felt since before the shooting. I had done so much emotional work on myself in the years I’d been separated from Joey. This Life Lift was the cherry on top of the cake, and I believe was only bestowed on me because I was emotionally ready: the outside now matched the inside. I literally glowed from within. I was certainly appreciative. When you’ve been really down and out, like I had felt many times in my life, you don’t take the good times for granted. They are a magical gift to be savored. I was amazed and humbled by the beauty in my life.
I was scheduled to return to do a follow-up on Oprah during sweeps week in May 2006, six months after my surgery. A couple of months before my appearance, I got a call from a producer at Entertainment Tonight (ET). He was proposing that Amy Fisher, Joe, and I all get together in one room and face each other in person for the first time since 1992. He was sure that the ratings for this reunion on the fourteenth anniversary of the shooting would be out of sight. I had absolutely no interest in the idea. Furthermore, I was legally prohibited from appearing on any television show until after my second appearance on Oprah. It was part of my contract. Oprah had made all the arrangements to give me this Life Lift and, reasonably enough, didn’t want anyone getting a peek at the “new” me until after I was unveiled on her show. I told them absolutely no way, hung up, and forgot about it.
But ET wouldn’t give up. Producers began calling me daily, begging me to take part in this show. At some point I learned that Joey and Amy had both signed on and agreed to sit down and face each other. As usual when it came to publicity, I was the wet blanket. I explained over and over that I had no desire to see Amy Fisher in person ever again in my life and had zero desire to appear with the two of them on this or any other show. “Even if I wanted to do it, I can’t! I am legally and contractually bound to Oprah until my follow-up episode airs in May! How many times do I have to explain this?!”
Even without my participation, the hype for the show was huge. Teasers were aired on ET weeks in advance, and the producers stretched out the Joey/Amy confrontation over two long weeks in May. I watched several of the shows before I left for Chicago and just shook my head. The two of them fought and hurled insults at each other. It was embarrassing. Mean-while, the calls kept coming. ET still hoped I would agree to an appearance. I flew to Chicago on a Wednesday and taped at Oprah’s studio on a Thursday.
This was the big “after” show, where they played footage of my doctors’ meetings and surgery and talked to Dr. Azizzadeh about what exactly he’d done and why. I made my grand entrance at the end to show off my new look. My hair was styled, I wore a new outfit, and I was literally queen for the day. I looked great, and Dr. Azizzadeh was thrilled with the results. The man is a genius. I didn’t look pulled too tight or overdone in any way. I simply looked younger, rejuvenated, and similar to the pretty young woman I’d been before I was shot. The peace, calmness, and contentment in my life were now accurately reflected on my face.
When I got back to my hotel after the taping, I had literally a dozen messages from ET producers saying they would work around my schedule if I would just meet with Joey and Amy for a couple of hours. I was feeling very strong, happy about my new look, and ready and able to face anything. Maybe, I mused, it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe I could get an answer or two to some of the questions I still had. At the very least, I could lend a bit of dignity to the proceedings, so that Paul and Jessica could see one of their parents behaving properly. When they called me back yet again, I agreed to make one appearance, for one hour only. I would listen to what Amy had to say, listen to what Joe had to say, and then leave. That was it. Needless to say, the show’s producers were ecstatic.
I flew home to Los Angeles that night and had barely tumbled into bed when a limousine picked me up at 5:00 AM on Friday, the day my Oprah show aired across the nation. Stu and I were driven to a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, where ET was taping the show. I was immediately hustled off to my own room in the mansion. The producers were anxious to keep the three of us separated to preserve the tension—it would make great TV to capture my reunion with Amy. I was as cool as a cucumber. I was just going to listen, say my piece, and then go home and rest. They didn’t want me to see Joey before the cameras rolled, either, but he threw a fit and swore he wouldn’t go on until he spoke to me first. I rolled my eyes, and then went to see him.
Joey started talking nonstop the minute I saw him. He told me that he’d been very ill with diverticulosis. He’d been in the hospital, in fact, but had checked himself out just so he could be there for me. He was going on and on, and I just wanted to get on with the task at hand. I broke in and said, “I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.” I no longer cared what he said about anything. I turned to one of the hovering producers. “Are we ready to go?”
I was brought to a huge empty room and placed on my mark. When Amy walked in, I walked right over to her. Very conscious that millions of people would see this on national television, I put out my arms and gave her a short hug. The truth is, as long and hard as I had worked at forgiving her, a big part of me still would have preferred to strangle her. But I knew I had to stay calm and collected. I absolutely refused to sink to their level.
Not surprisingly, Amy had no answers for me. She didn’t know why she had done it. When I asked about the two boys she had tried to hire early on to shoot me, she refused to talk about them. When I asked about her father, she told me she hadn’t come to talk about him. She was there to see me and tell me she was sorry in person. That was all. Amy was hard, cold, and evasive throughout the meeting. Ten minutes after laying eyes on her, I realized that the vague hope I might get any answers was foolish. This was a complete waste of my time. There was certainly no grand awakening on her part or mine.
Then Joe was brought in. He didn’t last fifteen seconds before he stood up, grabbed his microphone, and threw it across the room, screaming, “Fuck you, you fucking cunt!” at Amy. He went off. I just sat in my chair next to his and looked straight ahead. The interview was over. I had no chance to see them interact in person together. Looking back, I should have known he’d do something to prevent me from asking them both questions they couldn’t squirm or lie their way out of when all three of us were present. That was one thing Joey would prevent no matter what.
All the media excitement was over, and I returned with relief to my everyday life with Stu, looking and feeling fantastic. Joey’s antics were the only fly in the ointment. It had been quite upsetting to Paul and Jessica, of course, when Joe had to serve his time for insurance fraud, but everyone had gotten through it. He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year when I was sitting home one afternoon, minding my own business as usual, and got a call from one of my friends.
“Did you hear? Joey got arrested again,” he said.
“What?” This was the fourth time. “What for?” Apparently, he had been busted on a parole violation. Joe had once again been put on probation for five years after serving the five-month sentence. Parole officers searching his house had uncovered a box of shotgun shells that went with an old rifle he’d once owned and promptly rearrested him. There were no actual guns there. It was ridiculous, not a big matter, but the damage was done.
I hung up the phone and called Stu into the room. “Stu, you are neve
r going to believe this one!” I said, and related the story to him.
Stu just looked at me. “I can’t believe this. What is wrong with him?”
Jessica happened to be at our house that day, sitting in the den doing her laundry and watching television. She was absorbed in some show when I walked into the room.
“Jess,” I said, “I don’t even know how to say this, so I’m just going to tell you straight out. Daddy got arrested again.”
Jessica turned her head away from the screen and looked at me for a moment. “Who cares?” she said. “I’ve got laundry to do,” and turned back to her program. I stood there for a moment and then went back to the living room to track down Paul. When I got him on the phone and told him the news, he laughed. Laughed. “What the hell did he do now?”
Stu watched this with disbelief. “Mary Jo,” he said after I’d hung up, “I don’t think you realize how crazy this all is. If my mother called me and said my brother had been arrested, I would be going crazy. I’d be running around trying to get money, find him, you name it. One kid goes on with her laundry, the other just laughs, like this is a normal, everyday occurrence. No one’s excited here. What is this, another day in the park?”
“Yes, Stu, this is normal—for Joey!”
All Stu could do was shake his head. The chaos was back on. Joe was soon calling me constantly to complain. He had to go back to jail, he’d lost his business, and he was on the verge of losing his huge house. I always tried to listen patiently and offer good advice, but every time I made a suggestion, he replied, “See, this is why we’re not married anymore! I don’t want to hear this!”
Getting It Through My Thick Skull Page 19