I won’t pretend that it was easy, but I made sure to do everything possible to keep my body thriving. I hired a macrobiotic chef and an acupuncturist who helped with relaxation and pain. I took a course in transcendental meditation as a way for me to get out of my head and just live joyously. Herbs, good foods and vitamins helped to keep my body strong, as did the yoga coach who came to my home several times a week along with a masseur. To help with the nausea, I used homeopathic drops from Germany, and I also used Amazonian herbs (never knowing how important that would be later on in my life).
I went to the wonderful Dr Saram Khalsa, who is a doctor of medicine and a naturopath who used natural healing and herbs. I did everything I could to heal my body – East meets West.
I did think about the creation of my cancer because I believe that emotions and illness have a correlation. The loss of my father and Colette and the increasing struggles within my marriage were huge stresses for me. Dr Khalsa even asked me if I was having trouble with a man because some believe cancer in the right breast corresponds to a male figure.
‘Do I have trouble with a man? Doesn’t everybody?’ I joked.
My favourite inspirational woman and author was the marvellous Louise Hay, founder of the publishing company Hay House. She survived very aggressive ovarian cancer – it was dubbed ‘incurable’ when she was diagnosed in 1978. Louise passed away in August 2017 at age ninety of natural causes, crediting one thing for her longevity: a positive mindset. Louise was my teacher, adviser, counsellor and guide, even though she didn’t know me. Her book You Can Heal Your Life restored me to the right mindset each and every night. Her voice pushed away any of my doubts and fears, returning me to positivity. She allowed me to sleep and dream of better days. I was thrilled many years later to thank her for all her love and healing and tell her how she’d affected my life.
After she died, the CEO of Hay House sent me a note saying that Louise hadn’t made it known what she wanted done with her ashes. He wondered if I would like a portion of them. I told them that I would be honoured and I flew Louise’s ashes to Australia and placed them under a beautiful evergreen tree on the top of the hill at my beloved Gaia, a most sacred space and the perfect place for her as they both share such a healing energy. I love feeling her spirit is there.
I also loved Deepak Chopra and purchased all of his healing books. Evelyn Ostin, the wife of Mo Ostin who ran Warner Brothers Records, originally introduced me to him. She was the one who took me to personally meet Deepak and receive my mantra, plus some lovely advice about healing. Years later, whenever I needed advice I would go see Deepak, who proved to be a good friend. When Patrick disappeared, I asked for his advice. He told me to repeat the line: Thy Will Be Done. Not long after I finished my treatments, Matt was offered a TV series in Australia. He was out there for a couple of months before we joined him. My paradise has always been Australia and I thought it would be wonderful to go down under for a while and have Chloe live a normal life, going to the local school and catching up with her friends. I needed some solitary time and the farm was a perfect place to meditate, read every spiritual book I could get my hands on, and just relax.
Chloe was enrolled at a charming school called Rous Mill, which was just down the road from our farm. The very first day of school, I took my little girl there and left her happily making new friends. When I picked Chloe up that day, she was crying. ‘Mummy, Mummy! One of my friends said you have cancer. Is it true, Mummy?’ I had managed to keep those publications from her, but obviously the news had hit Australia and I couldn’t keep it from the world.
I held her, told her it was true, but that now I was better and the cancer was gone.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ asked my wise girl. ‘I would have taken care of you.’
To this day, just thinking about it – and now writing it – breaks my heart.
When I look back, I know that, despite it being an emotionally confusing time for my Chloe, I should have told her. If I could change anything, I would have informed her from the start. I do think this omission impacted Chloe, and possibly even created her trust issues down the road. I think it’s better to be honest at all times and just deal with it. What happened that day at school was really a blessing in disguise, because now there was no more hiding.
When you have the truth, you have everything.
We spent the rest of that wintertime in our cosy Aussie home and it was a lovely period of nesting. I’d wake up at four in the morning, check on my daughter who was sleeping peacefully, and then go light a fire in the living room. I’d sit in a big, comfortable chair under a blanket and write new songs that were waking me up and had to be written. The funny thing was, writing new music was the last thing on my mind. I wasn’t planning to work at all. But the music and lyrics simply wanted to be heard. Inspiration, it turns out, strikes at the most unusual times.
In the middle of the night when the world is quiet, there is a creative cloud, a dream bag we all pull from.
I’d always cared deeply about the planet and the environment, but it escalated dramatically when I was recovering. I was so deeply in tune with nature, and my lyrics sprang out of that amazing connection. Now that I had the time to be alone for extended periods, I found a spiritual part of myself that was always there, which had previously been unexplored.
Being faced with death, I felt profoundly grateful, and experienced a true connection to all of God’s creatures.
I wrote an entire album late at night in my house; the songs just came through me. I remember playing some of them for one of my friends, Diana, who told me that her sons Nick and Stewart had a band. I hired them and we recorded the album on a farm in the hinterland of Byron Bay. I could see cows wandering past my window from the recording booth. I had my incredibly creative and dear friends Murray Burns and his partner Colin Bayley produce the album. The indie vibe of it all felt delicious. Even the name was perfect: The Music Farm.
Honestly, I had thought that I would retire, that it was the end of my career, but music kept appearing to me, in my head and in my heart, and I knew the songs needed to be heard. It turns out I didn’t retreat from my career, but rather I went through the fire and reinvented it. I called the album Gaia, and dedicated it to my father who’d died of cancer the day I was diagnosed and never complained for a moment. This was for him.
I loved the message of my 1994 Gaia album, and it remains close to my heart and the hearts of my fans.
When we found our way back to Malibu, I would often stand on a bluff overlooking the churning Pacific Ocean. In those moments, I would realise what a small piece of the world we really do occupy, and that it’s our sacred job to protect Mother Earth. We talk about saving the planet, but it’s really about saving ourselves.
Respect me. Respect me.
I need you to protect me.
For it is you, not me.
That’s the part you fail to see.
Marrying the love of my life on the winter solstice, 21 June 2008, on the same Peruvian mountaintop where we first connected.
Nine days after we married in Peru, John and I had a beachfront ceremony on Jupiter Island, Florida.
John and I on our first magical trip to Peru with our dear friends Jim and Nancy Chuda.
John and I have always adventured together, from the Great Wall of China (left), where we trekked 228 km to raise funds and awareness for the ONJ Cancer Wellness & Research Centre, to renewing our vows in Peru (right).
Living life in love and gratitude!
I love sharing my life with my pets – my dog Raven, my chicken Goldie, my miniature horses Harry and Winston, and my cat Magic. Thank you, Leigh and Kate, for the gift of these photos!
I will always remember the beautiful animals that have graced my life.
I was proud to honour my lifelong friend John Farrar at G’Day LA 2018 for ‘Outstanding Contribution to the Arts’ as we celebrate the fortieth anniversary of Grease. He wrote and produced all of my major hits, including �
��Hopelessly Devoted to You’ and ‘You’re the One That I Want’ for Grease.
Nancy Chuda and I are close friends through thick and thin.
I will always miss my dear friend Karen Carpenter.
My long-time friend Susan George and me with our two loves. To honour her beloved late husband, Susie launched Lasting Life, the Simon MacCorkindale Legacy, a small charity with a big mission to support and make a difference to the lives of individuals fighting cancer.
Helen Reddy and Jeff Wald introduced me to Alan Carr, the producer of Grease. I’ll be forever thankful!
My dearest friend Pat Farrar has always been by my side.
The beginnings of our double act – in Hampstead, London, in the sixties.
In Pat’s backyard in Melbourne, rehearsing and having fun for the camera! The beginnings of our double act – in Hampstead, London, in the sixties.
Our favourite pose!
Pat and I started Koala Blue together in 1984 in Los Angeles. We had so much fun for almost ten years – it was such a drag having to go shopping for ideas!
I’ll send you love. No matter what you say.
Back at home, Matt and I had officially made it through sickness and health, but the closeness you need in a marriage just wasn’t there as we reached the ten-year mark together. An illness can be very difficult for couples to manage emotionally, and it drove the wedge between us even deeper. We did all the right things when we noticed the gap and even sought couples counselling, but it wasn’t working.
As I continued to heal, the word was encouraging from my doctors who said the tumour was gone. I wish my marriage had that same healthy prognosis. By 1996, I had to face the fact that my relationship with Matt had been slowly deteriorating for a long, long time and it wasn’t going to get better.
We had been drifting away from each other and weren’t the same people who met on set so long ago. Our interests didn’t even match up anymore. He liked to fish, scuba-dive and hang out with his friends. I was the one who liked to meditate and read spiritual books. We did meet in the middle, though, as loving, bonded parents of our gorgeous baby girl. That was undeniable.
What consoled me as I struggled with the idea of divorce was that Matt and I had long ago decided that if anything should happen to us as a couple, we would remain close friends – or at least try to – for Chloe. I also had to realise that for a long time we had swept our problems under the rug because we didn’t want our little girl to deal with something painful.
Cancer has a way of making you face your worst and wildest fears, though. And I couldn’t deny the realisation that without cancer, Matt and I would have separated much sooner.
There was no choice but to end our marriage, but I refused to participate in some messy, drawn-out public spectacle. I had watched how others in the public eye had their divorces splashed across the headlines.
Matt and I simply sat down at our kitchen table as friends and worked out the terms. A female judge was our mediator, and, although it was painful, it was much better than sitting in some cold, sterile courtroom and spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on lawyers’ fees. It was really important to me and Matt that we make this as easy and as humane as possible for everyone, especially our daughter. I never wanted Chloe to read later on about how her parents dragged personal family business through the mud. Our story was private, and turmoil would not be our family’s legacy.
Our divorce decree mandated that Chloe could see both of us as much as she wanted with me as the primary caretaker. It was so important to me that she maintain a healthy relationship with her father because I would always lament the time lost with my own.
After we signed the final papers, I knew I needed a major change. I couldn’t stay in that big Malibu house any longer, and so I moved Chloe and me to a more modest beachside cottage to regroup and plan our future.
Between cancer and divorce, it was a dark time, but I came out knowing that I was more capable and perhaps even tougher than I had imagined.
Sometimes you need to be confronted with difficulties before you can even begin to live up to your true potential.
One of the positive aspects of this challenging time was that my health was returning and my body was feeling stronger every single day. I was cancer free, grateful and ready to get on with living.
Initially, you get to the five-year mark and if you haven’t had a recurrence then that’s a very big deal and a huge relief. You hear most of the time if cancer comes back it’s within those first five years. After those 1826 days, you usually just need to be checked once a year.
Those first years are so very frightening, but I prepared for them well with oestrogen-blocking medication, plus herbs, vitamins, supplements, homeopathy, meditation and yoga. But there were still plenty of scary nights alone in a big bed.
I will never use the word ‘remission’, although I celebrate other men and women who do. Personally, it doesn’t work for me because the word ‘remission’ feels like a question mark. It makes me believe that cancer is still lurking, hiding in the corner, just waiting to come back out. Cancer was a four-letter word to me: g-o-n-e. I put cancer away, closed the drawer and kept myself very busy as a newly single mum.
During meditation, I thought about what I learned during this time. I came to find out that:
I could get through anything.
Cancer isn’t necessarily a death sentence.
Compassion for others is a healing force.
Gratitude is a medicine.
I was so grateful for each and every day on planet Earth.
I believe that every seven years you shed your skin, and sickness forced me to get rid of mine and renew. In my thirties, I wasn’t confronted with my mortality. In fact, I didn’t even think about it. But my forties? They were a growing-up time. Now I was committed to my new life and good health.
Chloe didn’t need words of reassurance, but had to see with her own eyes that Mummy was fine and dandy. I would show my little girl that skies were blue if you decided they were and that you never give up.
She and is was the most splendid part of my life. At six, after a visit to the Big Apple, she wrote a touching and very poignant poem about the trees, asking, Why aren’t there any trees in New York? What have we done to them? How do people breathe? My girl was always singing – she knew every word to The Phantom of the Opera. She would put on little concerts with her friends in our living room and sing all the hit songs of the day, like TLC’s ‘Waterfalls’.
She loved The Little Mermaid, and had a stock of princess dresses that she never wanted to take off. When she turned seven, I didn’t have to ask what she would be wearing because I knew it would be white and poufy. For her birthday party, we hired an actor to dress up as Prince Charming. Her bedroom, like most of her friends, was lined with Barbies who lived in a pink dream house.
Chloe always loved animals and even had a pet rat she named Mushka. She couldn’t have enough animals around her, which was a trait she got from her mum. She loved Australia like I did because it was a place where she could really experience nature.
Our farm there had an enormous garden, and if she wanted to see bigger plants, we’d go walking in the rainforest next to our home, where we would see the wallabies on the lawn and hear the many wonderful and unique varieties of birds. At the local school, the children would have to wear a hat outside because of the intensity of the sun, but Chloe didn’t mind. She felt free in a place where she could do all of her sports barefoot. I loved the fact that she had a few years of schooling there and made lifelong friends in both America and Australia. In fact, Chloe can still go from an American to an Australian accent in a second. Brilliant!
I was hoping to spend a few years after my treatment in Australia with Chloe, but then Matt and I split up. Plans changed when I knew she wouldn’t see her dad much if we lived so far away. So we moved back to LA, planning to return to Oz every year to reconnect and visit family, friends and, of course, the animals.
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sp; From 1995 to 1998 I didn’t record any new albums or songs of my own. I sang on five tracks of my long-time singing partner and friend Cliff Richard’s soundtrack for his stage show Heathcliff, and I performed a duet with him called ‘Had to Be’ at the Royal Variety Show in London in front of the Queen. Sir Cliff would eventually get me back on the road again.
My dear friend Cliff Richard – now deservedly Sir Cliff Richard – would pull me out of retirement when he asked me to tour with him. Cliff has been a mentor in my life, a man with the most beautiful warm and sexy voice whom I learned so much from about performing. He is always lovely and kind to me and everyone he meets. A true gentleman.
There is no one else I would have come out of retirement for but Cliff, who was so instrumental in my career. I was on his TV series in the sixties and toured with him in Japan as a backup singer with Pat. He said, ‘You’re too young to retire.’ Then later he said, ‘I couldn’t get you off the stage.’ I have such immense respect and love for him. Thank you, Sir Cliff!
Aside from these few projects, I decided to take a bit of a break from singing and concentrate on Chloe. But soon I found I couldn’t just do nothing. It wasn’t in my nature.
And the universe, once again, had different plans for me than I had for myself. Right before Christmas of 1996, I felt a strange lump in my throat. X-rays revealed it was not malignant, thank God, but it was some kind of a growth behind my larynx that apparently had been there since I was born.
There would be no throat surgeries for me because that was much too scary; I went the holistic route, getting acupuncture treatments every day for six weeks. When nothing changed, I felt confused – until I realised, during a meditation, that I had been given a gift, the voice that I was born with, and I wasn’t using it.
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