We got to the airport and were met by the Lufthansa representative and escorted into the VIP lounge. Farrah went into the bathroom and was gone a long time. When I went in to see if she was all right, I found her doubled over and her face was ashen. She said the pain had started again.
“Are you sure we should go?” I asked, knowing full well what her answer would be. She assured me she would take her pain medication and she would be fine.
“Just get me on the plane and I’ll make it,” she said.
“You’re a very stubborn young lady,” I replied, half teasing, half serious.
The first part of the flight was fine. We ate and chatted and bought duty-free crap like blushers and nail polish. Then she fell asleep and I read for a while. After an hour or so, I went to the toilet and when I returned, she was lying there awake, crying softly.
“What’s the matter, honey? I just looked over and saw you crying.”
“It’s the pain…,” she answered through her tears.
“Do you want me to get the shot ready?” I asked. Thank God I’d had the foresight to ask Dr. Jacob to give me a pain shot for her just in case she needed it. She nodded and I prepared the shot and she gave it to herself in the abdomen. The pain began to subside soon after, and just before she fell asleep, I said with a little smile, “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so!” She smiled back at me sheepishly, and we both laughed, my stubborn little friend and me.
This past month has been surreal: watching Farrah suffer through this agonizing experience and at the same time having this romantic affair with Mimmo. But Farrah is my priority, and any man who says he’s in love with me will have to understand that. This is a whole new me! I remember the time in Aspen years ago when another friend of mine was sick with the flu and I had just met this man I was very attracted to. She said that she felt abandoned by me because I was spending so much time with him. Looking back, I’m sorry to say that she was right. In the past, I always put the man first, and everything else took a backseat—including my own needs. Now I realize that men come and go, but a friendship between two women needs to be nourished and cherished for the gift that it is.
I look over at Farrah and she’s sleeping quietly and peacefully. There is no doubt in my mind that I have made the right decision.
January 1, 2008
I can’t believe we’re actually in 2008. Life feels like it’s moving too fast and there’s not enough of it left. This experience with Farrah has made me realize how fleeting life can be, how it can change in a heartbeat and never be the same. It’s so important to live in the moment and love in the moment and cherish the people you care about. I’ve never been particularly good about living in the moment, but after the last year, I’m determined to get better.
I just read the lesson for today in A Course in Miracles, one of my favorite spiritual teachings, the one that Marianne Williamson reintroduced. It’s about not looking to the world to find answers. I really get that now. Nothing in the material world can make you safe; nothing can save you from life’s challenges and trials—no man, no person, no situation, no amount of money—only a connection to a Higher Power or God, or whatever one chooses to call this power in the universe that’s greater than we are. As much as I try, I’m not sure I totally understand it. I’m trying not to get frightened about the future, but I don’t see the solution to my dwindling financial situation. I keep surrendering it to God, trusting there’s an answer, but on the other hand, I don’t want to just sit and do nothing and be paralyzed in fear. Yet I don’t know what to do. The television show that seemed like a sure thing hasn’t been given a go, and there doesn’t appear to be any other work in my future. I see Tina making plans for building her new house and growing old in it, while I’m the same age and I don’t have the resources to know I’m taken care of for the rest of my life. I can’t even imagine where that kind of financial security could come from at this stage of the game. I’m sure I’m in the same boat as a lot of women my age. It’s a scary place to be. I just have to trust that it will work out.
And now we’re leaving again for Farrah’s follow-up treatment. We’re going to fly with Bren Simon on her plane to Germany and go straight to the clinic. So I have barely three weeks to try to catch up on things here and get ready for the next trip. My kids don’t like me being gone so much. It’s funny that they’re young adults but they still come to me whenever they have a problem. I guess that’s what mothers are for. And my dogs hate it when I leave. They start to mope around and give me long, baleful looks as soon as they see the suitcases come out. Guilt, guilt, guilt. I have problems in the house to deal with; most of all I have to decide if I’m going to try to sell it now or wait until my money runs out. I must say that sometimes it’s a relief to go off to Germany and escape reality for a while. It’s just that it’s always waiting for me when I come back.
Birthdays were always big for us. For as long as I can remember, Farrah’s been at my birthdays and I’ve been at hers. It wasn’t just tradition; it just didn’t feel right without each other there. Oh sure, we missed some here and there, but by and large, if it was possible, we were together. Whether at her house or mine, a restaurant, or a party somewhere, we almost always celebrated getting older and wiser together.
For her birthday in February 2008, where this photo was taken, we all crowded into Mimmo’s, across the street from the clinic. He made her a fabulous birthday dinner. The first course, which Farrah loved, was thinly sliced beets, Pecorino cheese, and arugula. The second course was taglioni pasta with a hint of butter and truffles—our favorite pasta there. The next course was fish, a lovely sea bass. Then came the birthday cake and champagne. Farrah enjoyed every bite. We drank, we ate, then they played Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday to You” and we danced.
Farrah was in great spirits. My ex George was there with Dr. Barbara, as were my son Sean and his girlfriend Caleigh, our friend Lili Zanuck, Dr. Jacob, and Anna Danenza. Dr. Jacob even wore a dirndl, a traditional Bavarian dress.
Finally, as the evening was winding down, Farrah got up to make some toasts. First, she turned to Dr. Jacob.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said, and Dr. Jacob nodded back.
And then, flashing a big smile, she raised her glass to me.
“To my best friend. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
GOOD NEWS…BAD NEWS
February 10, 2008
Finally! A good-news trip! We’ve been gone from L.A. for over three weeks now. I haven’t written this entire trip and I don’t know where to start. I haven’t had a free minute, it seems.
When Farrah and I arrived at the clinic, our driver pointed out that two paparazzi had followed us and were taking pictures from their car. I ran to film them and they took off. Now they knew we were here, so we’d have to keep a constant watch for them every time we went out.
Sean, his girlfriend Caleigh, and his friend Elijah, Cher’s son, are also here, as well as George and Barbara and our friend Lili Zanuck. It’s like one big party.
The day after we arrived, Farrah and I had to go to Frankfurt so she could have one more laser surgery with Dr. Vogl. “I feel like a dog being taken to the vet,” she said en route to the surgery. “A dog always starts to shake when it nears the destination because it remembers the last visit.” And yet she pushes through the fear and the trepidation because she wants to live. Such courage.
This surgery was not as difficult as the last one, although the procedure was just as painful. We spent the night in the hospital, and the next morning I accompanied her as they wheeled her to the MRI. Afterward we went into Dr. Vogl’s office, Farrah still in her hospital gown and in considerable pain. “Dr. In and Out” sat with us for an unusually long time.
“The last laser surgery in December was really dangerous,” he said. “It was difficult to decide what to do. You could have died from it.” We sat there in stunned silence.
Then he went on to say that he was ab
le to get the rest of the tumors today and that the remaining ones were already necrotic (meaning they’re dying or dead). “So you are now tumor free,” he said matter-of-factly.
I wanted to be perfectly clear: “You mean she doesn’t have any more tumors?” I asked incredulously.
“She has no more active tumors.” Then he quickly added, “In the liver.”
Farrah and I hugged each other in celebration; this was the greatest news we’d had in a long time. We supposed afterward that he only wanted to go on record in the area he was certain about. But nevertheless, we were over the moon.
When we arrived back at the clinic, Dr. Jacob met us and explained that, while Farrah has no active tumors in her body, she still has cancer cells in her blood, and that’s where the other treatments come in: the special antibodies and anticancer drugs, even some plant derivatives that are known to kill cancer cells. The war is far from over, but a major battle has just been won.
We all celebrated Farrah’s birthday at Mimmo’s restaurant at a little birthday party I organized for her. It was a true celebration, and she was elated. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she announced, “because I’m alive.” It was an incredibly meaningful and special evening.
It sounds crazy that someone would be thankful for being sick—but that’s what Farrah said to Dr. Jacob earlier today. “I’m grateful that I got cancer…because now I see that I can make a difference.” I wasn’t surprised that she said this. She’s been so moved by how many people have reached out to her, not just with get-well wishes, but with questions, requests for information, and gratitude. For the last year and a half that this has been going on, I’ve never seen Farrah once question the fact that this was happening to her or feel sorry for herself. She just accepts this for what it is and pushes forward; she deals with whatever is on her plate very methodically and doesn’t waste time wallowing in self-pity. But this brutal disease has to have happened for a reason. There had to be some purpose God had in mind for Farrah Fawcett. She’s been thinking about that a lot these days, especially now that her cancer is technically “in remission.” She has a new lease on life, and she’s realizing how much she could help others who are also battling a life-threatening illness. She could open people’s eyes to other forms of cancer treatments that aren’t yet available in the United States. She could start a foundation for research and use it to help people who can’t afford to try other methods. She’s even started to think that what we’ve been filming all these months could be an impactful documentary. The possibilities are endless. And for this, she is grateful. It has given her life a new mission, a new definition.
During this whole trip, I’d been filming, not only for us, but also for a piece on Farrah to be aired on Entertainment Tonight. During the last trip to Germany, I came up with the idea to do our own footage, so that we could show how great Farrah was looking and feeling. I wanted to put a stop to all the horrible tabloid articles saying she was dying. Take that! She was angry and fed up with being stalked all the time by the paparazzi. They would try to get the worst possible shot of her and then sell it to the tabloids or get video footage of her coming out of her doctor’s office and sell it to the entertainment programs for big bucks. The National Enquirer came out with one headline that blared on the front page: “Farrah Given Weeks to Live!” The article said the cancer had spread to her pancreas and she was dying. It was completely unfounded. There wasn’t a word of truth to it and she was furious.
So we decided to fight fire with fire. ET aired our footage of Farrah looking radiant and energetic, walking by the lake, celebrating at her birthday party, and even having a snowball fight on a snow-covered mountain. Would a dying woman be having a snowball fight? Farrah, always competitive, pounded me with snowballs, one after the other. She was full of strength and verve. Of course, she had an unfair advantage—I was trying to film! Finally, in self-defense, I handed the camera to Mimmo, who had driven us. I got a few good shots in myself, but she was clearly the winner…in more ways than one. We felt that maybe this would shut the rags up for a while, and it succeeded, at least momentarily. Another win for our side!
Mimmo and I are still going hot and heavy. I really like him, and he’s very sweet to me and to my son. Sean adores him, and loves his food. He, Caleigh, and Cher’s son, Elijah, go over to his restaurant every day for lunch, and Mimmo cooks them Sean’s favorite pasta: baked penne with prosciutto, tomato sauce, and mozzarella. Sometimes I join them. Mimmo keeps telling me he’s in love with me, and finally one night, in the heat of passion, I said (faintly), “Me, too.” I’m not even sure he heard me, and it’s just as well because I’m just not sure if I’m really in love with him. It’s great for now, but the bottom line is, I know it’s not forever.
All in all, it’s been a positive trip—but I’m exhausted and emotionally drained. Right now I feel like I want to cry and have someone take care of me—like a little girl that wants to curl up in her parents’ arms and have them tell her everything will be okay. I feel like I always have to be the strong one and take care of everyone else—it’s overwhelming sometimes. It’s been that way all my life. I had to grow up too fast, too soon, and take care of my mother, who was a prescription drug addict and suffered from depression and ill health. Then it was husbands and children. I guess everyone dealing with a loved one who has a serious illness feels this way from time to time. It’s human. It’s impossible not to.
And yet I feel guilty even thinking about myself, or complaining, when Farrah is fighting for her life. I’m not the one battling cancer. Ever since this started I’ve been working to let go of my fears and get out of my head—get outside of myself. During the moments when everything feels like it’s piling up, I’ve been trying to remember the words of Rabbi Eitan that I heard all those months ago, around the time that Farrah was first diagnosed. I need to be thankful, get past myself, and do things for others.
He’s right. There’s no two ways about it. This experience has been truly life-changing for both Farrah and me. A year ago I would have been a wreck, but now what I really feel is gratitude. There is so much to be grateful for now. Farrah has no active tumors and her future is looking very optimistic, my children are all okay for the moment, and I have to surrender the future to God. What I’m doing to help my friend is the most important thing I could do right now, and I have to trust that everything else will be taken care of.
April 20, 2008
Mimmo is arriving in Los Angeles tonight. I’m really nervous. I don’t know how I’ll feel with him being in my house for over a week. Will I feel crowded? Eight days is a long time in close quarters, and it sure brings up my fear of intimacy and feeling claustrophobic. What if I’m not as attracted to him here on my home turf? I guess I just have to be open and not be judgmental or worried about what my friends will think about him. That’s the superficial part of me, and that’s not who I want to be. Also, I don’t need to try to make this fit into a certain mold. Even though it’s probably not forever, I can enjoy it for now.
April 23, 2008
I went with Farrah and Ryan today to get her scans. I felt sure it was going to be okay, or at least I didn’t allow myself to think otherwise. She seemed really calm, but I’m sure she was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? This would be the first scan since she was pronounced tumor free in February. Ryan was the worried one. It was almost as if he expected bad news.
Afterward Dr. Piro explained that one of the old tumors appeared to be active again, and two other tiny new ones had also shown up on the scan. On top of that, there appeared to be some activity in the rectal area, where the original cancer had started. He took us into a room where the technicians showed us the scans. It was kind of surreal. We were all in this dark room, watching these screens of her body while they pointed out the various places they thought were possibly active tumors. She started to cry softly. I was filming it all, although it was so dark you could only see the screens and the outline of everyone in there.
&n
bsp; The last trip to Germany had been so positive; we were so jubilant; but now our mood had shifted drastically. While we always worry whenever there’s a new scan, I don’t think any of us had expected this news. Ryan pulled her close and said, “It’s okay. We’ll beat this.” Farrah pulled herself together, and before leaving the room even turned to thank the doctors who had given her the bad news. She and Ryan went outside into the hallway and he held her while she nestled her head on his shoulder. You could see the pain and fear in his eyes, but he was being brave for her.
We went downstairs, got into our cars, and left. Farrah and Ryan went back to her place to try to find the last scan from Dr. Vogl. All the scans they did today will have to be sent to him in Germany for the ultimate interpretation, since what appeared active could be the old dying tumors or inflammation. I pray that’s all it is, but I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
April 26, 2008
I haven’t had any time to write with Mimmo here. He came for an eight-day visit this time. I was really nervous that eight days would be too long—maybe just a little too much togetherness. Would I be able to handle it? Actually, I’ll miss him when he leaves, but I think I’ll also be a little relieved to get back to normal. God knows I need to recuperate from having so much sex! Also, I find myself keeping him at a distance. He continues to tell me he’s in love with me, but I’m not “in love,” whatever that means anyway. I’m just trying to stay in the moment and not analyze it too much, but most of all not judge. He’s not the stable, mature man I’d like if it were to be permanent. But this is who God has put in front of me in this moment. He’s sweet, intelligent, sexy, handsome, and hardworking. And he’s very good to me. He cooks great food for me; he washed all my windows; he’s great to my kids and my dogs. It’s kind of like having a wife, in a way. And on top of it he makes me feel safe and protected, strangely enough.
My Journey with Farrah Page 7