by Nancy Reagan
57. At the state dinner for Duarte. Obviously, my mind is not on the proceedings. The next day I went into the hospital for cancer surgery. (photo credit 14.17)
58. Center: My brother, Dick, Dr. John Hutton, Ronnie, Paula (one of the nurses), with me in the recovery room. (photo credit 14.18)
59. Bottom: Ronnie bringing me cookies and cards, some of them quite large! (photo credit 14.19)
60. Left: Ronnie, my strong right arm—in this case, left—taking me for a walk in the hospital, the day after surgery. (photo credit 14.20)
61. Right: Rex Scouten (head usher at the White House) and I had become friends, and I was so happy to see his face, and thrilled to be home. (photo credit 14.21)
62. I tried to thank everybody for the warm homecoming, but my voice cracked and I didn’t get very far. (photo credit 14.22)
63. One of my first public appearances after the surgery. By mistake, Ronnie raised my arm too high and I whispered to him, “You’re hurting me!” And so he kissed me. (photo credit 14.23)
64. My darling mother, whom I loved dearly, wearing her red mittens. I saw her as often as I could—not often enough—and I called her every night, even toward the end. (photo credit 14.24)
65. Doria, Ron, and me, with Ronnie, after he had given the eulogy for my mother. (photo credit 14.25)
66. Gromyko, when he said to me, “Whisper peace in your husband’s ear every night,” and I said, “I will, and I’ll also whisper it in your ear.” (photo credit 14.26)
67. In Geneva at the Soviet mission to the U.N., where I’d gone for tea. Raisa is dressed in a shirt and skirt, for reasons I didn’t understand until later—this was the only picture publicized in Russia, and any other outfit would have been considered too frivolous. (photo credit 14.27)
68. Our dinner for the Gorbachevs in Geneva—Ronnie and Gorbachev toasting each other. (photo credit 14.28)
69. In Geneva, where Ron had been sent on assignment for Playboy. Boy, was I glad to see him. (photo credit 14.29)
70. After the signing of the INF Treaty in Washington in 1987. I’ve often wondered what Raisa was thinking as she looked at me. (photo credit 14.30)
71. Gorbachev and me toasting, at the dinner they gave for us at the Soviet embassy in Washington. (photo credit 14.31)
72. Seeing the Gorbachevs off from Washington. Obviously it was raining, but to them that meant good luck. (photo credit 14.32)
73. Raisa when she came to tea for the first time in Geneva in 1985. She had finally found a chair she liked, having moved twice. (photo credit 14.33)
74. In Russia, when Ronnie talked Gorbachev into looking at his watch, to tease Raisa and me for being late. (photo credit 14.34)
75. An unforgettable evening at the Bolshoi Theater with the Gorbachevs, with the flags of both nations on either side. The Russians played our national anthem beautifully. (photo credit 14.35)
76. In Russia, the ladies who waited for me gave me lilacs and hugged me when I left. (photo credit 14.36)
77. Leaving Moscow—in the Kremlin with the Gorbachevs. (photo credit 14.37)
78. Riding at Camp David with Doria and Ron. (photo credit 14.38)
79. One of my favorite pictures of the man I know so well. (photo credit 14.39)
80. Happy to be back at the ranch. (photo credit 14.40)
81. I think Ronnie left the presidency with such dignity. Here he is, getting on board Air Force One on January 20, 1989, to fly to California, saying goodbye and saluting. (photo credit 14.41)
82. With Aaron Shikler, who painted the official portraits of us that will hang in the White House. (photo credit 14.42)
83. Our last day, and each of us filled with our own private thoughts and memories. (photo credit 14.43)
“I’m reading something into this,” he said. “Am I on firm ground?”
“Yes, possibly,” I replied.
I meant, of course, that Ronnie’s condition was probably more serious than I was willing to say over the phone. But Don evidently took my comment to mean that the reason the surgery was scheduled for the next morning—or, as he wrote, was “delayed for a day and a half”—had something to do with astrology.
That’s not true. There was no delay. Ronnie went in on Friday and had the operation the next morning. Astrology had nothing to do with it.
This was a painful period for me. From my diary:
July 13: Dick came in from Philadelphia to be with me. [My brother is a neurosurgeon.] A few minutes after seven P.M., he and I went into the recovery room to see Ronnie. He was fine, but groggy. He said he couldn’t remember anything after I had kissed him in the operating room this morning.
There was a tube coming out of his nose to remove fluids and gases from his stomach, and another one going into his arm to give him antibiotics and a sugar solution.
A little later, Fred Fielding came in with Don Regan and Larry Speakes, and Ronnie signed a document in which he reclaimed the powers of the presidency.
Dick and I went back to the White House, where we had a chance to talk when the phone wasn’t ringing. Maureen called from Nairobi, where it was the middle of the night, and I filled her in. Ronnie called around nine to say they had given him a sleeping pill. He sounds drowsy. I hope he sleeps.
July 14: Back to the hospital. Ronnie looks fine, but is in some pain. They say the first three days are always rough. Calls are pouring in, but I just can’t talk to anyone. I hope they understand.
Left the hospital around 5:30. By the time I got back, my desk was filled with mail, messages, and flowers. So tired I can’t eat.
July 15: Still not a good night for Ronnie, but the doctors say he’s doing remarkably well. God, I hope so. He has to blow up those ping pong balls to keep his lungs clear, as he did when he was shot. Today I brought in photographs for the walls and put them around his room, just like in 1981. One of the pictures is of Ronnie riding his horse.
After lunch, two of the doctors—Dale Oller, head of surgery at Bethesda, and Steven Rosenberg, chief of surgery at the National Cancer Institute—came in to give me the pathology report. The tumor was malignant. Damn! But they swear they got it all.
From now on Ronnie will need more frequent checkups, including CAT scans and chest X rays.
But it was good to hear they had gotten it all. And good for people to know that you can have this problem and it doesn’t have to be fatal.
Dr. Rosenberg said: “Prospects are for a full recovery and a normal life.”
Together with the doctors, and Larry Speakes, I went to tell Ronnie the whole story. “I’m glad it’s all out,” he said. As far as he was concerned, he was now fine, and that was that.
Months ago, we had invited the Boston Pops to give a concert for the diplomatic corps on the South Lawn today, in celebration of the orchestra’s one-hundredth anniversary. Ronnie was supposed to give the remarks, and he insisted that I go in his place. He told me this just after we got the news that the polyp was malignant!
As I was leaving the sitting room to return to the White House, John Hutton suddenly sprang up and put his arm around my waist.
“John, what is it?”
“You were about to faint,” he said.
“No, I wasn’t. My bag is heavy.”
“No,” he repeated. “You were about to faint. I’m worried about you.”
John came back with me to the White House. Unbeknownst to me, he told everybody to keep an eye on me, especially in this heat.
Back home, I changed my clothes and went out to the South Lawn to make a few remarks. It was very hot, and those poor people had been sitting out there for quite a while, so I spoke briefly, and we all came inside where it was cool. Then I had to greet four hundred and twenty-two diplomats in a receiving line, none of whom knew why Ronnie was in the hospital. I wanted to get through it as quickly as possible, and it was hard to concentrate. I never thought I’d get through it.
July 16: Ronnie had a good day. Last night he stayed up late and watched a movie on television
with Bogart and Bacall. His walls look much better with all the pictures, and he even took a couple of brief walks around the room.
He is reading a biography of Calvin Coolidge. Ronnie has always believed Coolidge was underrated.
I brought him a Cabbage Patch doll in a nurse’s outfit. The doll’s name is Nancy, and she’s sitting by his bed to remind him to take it easy. Or so I told him.
Joan Rivers sent two hundred and fifty balloons. I took them down to the children’s ward, together with some of the flowers. They told me that one fifteen-year-old boy’s blood pressure zoomed from 80 to 130 when I got to his bed. When I came back, I told Ronnie that he had better do the same or we were finished.
July 18: Arrived at the hospital today a little later than usual because, of all things, the driver lost his way. The poor man was so embarrassed. Ronnie was up. He had taken a shower and washed his hair. He was tired after that, but they’re gradually getting him back on solid food.
We went to the window and waved to the press so they could take pictures. They were yelling questions to him, but he couldn’t answer because his throat was still sore from the tube. I had to answer for him, but I don’t think they understood why we were doing it that way, and I was afraid they thought I was taking over.
I’m so mad at the doctors who have nothing to do with this case, rushing to go on television with their diagnoses and explanations! I’m just furious about it, and so is Dick. We were brought up to believe that this was unethical.
Ronnie and I were watching the news the other night when a doctor came on and said, “He probably has about four years to live.” I was furious, but Ronnie just said, “What do you think about that? Ridiculous!”
But I wondered if he wondered if there’s something we hadn’t told him. He probably wasn’t thinking along those lines, but in that situation, I would have.
July 19: This morning they made it official—he goes home tomorrow. Whoopee! He’ll do his [regular Saturday] radio broadcast from the hospital, and then we’ll leave. I can’t wait!
When I told Ronnie, he said, “Well, I guess you can start taking down the pictures.” Then, after most of them were off the wall, he said, “Why don’t you leave those three in front? It does look kind of bare in here.”
And this from the man who said I was silly to put them up in the first place.
I left, then came back for dinner and to get things ready for tomorrow. Ronnie’s worst moment came when they told him he could no longer eat popcorn. You would have thought his whole world had come to an end.
July 20: Arrived in time for Ronnie’s radio broadcast, and I went in with him. After thanking the hospital personnel and the doctors, he decided to use his own experience as a warning for other people: “It’s important to have a checkup if you think something isn’t right. So if you’re listening to this right now and it reminds you of something that you’ve been putting out of your mind, pick up the phone, call your doctor or local hospital and talk to somebody. Just tell them Dr. Reagan sent you.”
Then Ronnie began to thank me for all I had done and what I meant to him. He said: “I’d like to indulge myself for a moment here. There’s something I want to say, and I wanted to say it with Nancy at my side, as she is right now, as she always has been. First ladies aren’t elected and they don’t receive a salary. They’ve mostly been private persons forced to live public lives. Abigail Adams helped invent America. Dolley Madison helped protect it. Eleanor Roosevelt was FDR’s eyes and ears. Nancy Reagan is my everything.
“When I look back on these days, Nancy, I’ll remember your radiance and your strength, your support, and your taking part in the business of this nation. I say for myself, but also on behalf of the nation, thank you, partner, thanks for everything.
“By the way, are you doing anything this evening?”
It’s a good thing this was radio and not television, because I was sitting there with tears streaming down my face—of course.
We left the hospital at around noon, and all the Navy men in their whites were lined up. Ronnie tried to thank everybody, but it was hard because the band was playing “Anchors Aweigh,” and it was a very emotional moment. I didn’t even try to talk.
July 21: Today I couldn’t get Ronnie to take a nap. I see I’m going to have quite a month.
July 22: Ronnie had a staff meeting here [in the residence] in the morning. George Opfer came to see me in the afternoon. We are trying to conspire to prevent Ronnie from riding at the ranch. It would be a big mistake, but Ronnie thinks he can do everything.
July 23: President Li came today. Even before Ronnie’s operation, the Chinese had asked that the ceremonies be scaled back because of Li’s health. So with Ronnie’s operation, it couldn’t have worked out better.
Only ten days after surgery, and Ronnie went through the arrival ceremony, and did it well. But my heart was in my mouth. It was so touching to see Ronnie helping Li up the steps to his chair. We did away with the receiving line after the arrival ceremony, and we cut down on moving around as much as we could.
Following the arrival ceremony, I had coffee with Madame Li upstairs in the Yellow Oval Room. She is very nice, a doctor. I told her I was wearing a red Chinese dress that they had given me when we were in China. She replied that she had tried to bring me another one, but they couldn’t find the tailor who had my measurements.
When we joined the men, Li told me that he had a message for me from Deng—that I should be sure to come back to China. [When Ronnie and I were in China, Deng had playfully invited me to come back—“without your husband.”] I laughed and replied that I remembered the first invitation, and felt very flattered.
After the meeting, we saw them out the door and then came up for lunch on the Truman Balcony. It was nice to get some fresh air. Then a rest for Ronnie.
Tonight, at the state dinner, we didn’t have the usual cocktail hour upstairs in the Yellow Oval Room. And Li couldn’t go down the grand staircase, so we used the elevator. We also skipped the receiving line, and in a way I missed it, because I couldn’t say hello to all our friends who were there. We shortened the dinner and had coffee at the tables instead of in the Blue Room.
When Ronnie got up from the table to give his toast, everyone at the dinner stood up and applauded him.
Li mentioned again at the table that the last thing Deng had told him was to be sure to invite me back.
Liz Taylor was at the table, looking lovely.
After dinner, Li went home right away. He said to me, “I’ll be seeing you in Beijing.”
Ronnie went upstairs [to our living quarters], which took a great deal of coaxing on my part. He wanted to stay for the entertainment and was hoping to go the whole route, but I put my foot down. Madame Li and I went into the East Room for the entertainment, which consisted of Grace Bumbry and another singer doing songs from Porgy and Bess. Grace even sang a song in Chinese to Madame Li. When the entertainment was over, I got up to make a few remarks to fill in for Ronnie.
George Shultz and I started the dancing. Only then did I finally get to see some of my friends. It was a very different dinner, but filled with warmth.
July 24: I tried to sleep late, but didn’t do too well. Had lunch at Meg Greenfield’s with Kay Graham, who had written me a very sweet letter about Ronnie. She has invited me to come and stay with her on Martha’s Vineyard, so I’ll be going for two days. Getting away from Washington and being near the water should be good for me.
News came today that Rock Hudson had lung cancer in Paris, so we called. But now there seems to be some question. [Later, of course, we learned that it was AIDS. He had been to a White House dinner and had been at my table. I remember sitting across from him and thinking, Gee, he’s thin. I asked if he had been dieting, and he said he had been hard at work on a new picture and had lost weight.]
July 25: I flew to Columbus, Ohio, a pretty town, to the Denison campus, where they had young kids taking part in an antidrug program called youth-to-youth.
Ronnie went to the office today for a Cabinet meeting.
July 26: Ronnie had meetings in the morning, and we left for Camp David around one. It was raining, which was frustrating because the doctor had told us that Ronnie could walk in the shallow end of the pool and start to get his toning back.
July 27: We had a restless night. Calls came for Ronnie from Bud McFarlane and Bill Casey on the secure line. I don’t know what they were about.
Weather improved, so Ronnie put on bathing trunks and walked around the shallow end of the pool as the doctor had suggested.
July 29: I met with the doctors about Ronnie’s diet, which we can loosen up a little now. This week—the third one—is especially important in his recovery, but the damned budget is making it really tough.
July 30: Busy day. Meeting with Bob Tuttle, then a meeting with Don Regan and Bill Hinkle about the Geneva summit in November. Talked about where we’d be staying, what the plan was for the meetings with Ronnie and Gorbachev, and what I was supposed to be doing.
Early dinner because I filled in for Ronnie at the Boy Scouts Jamboree in Virginia. It was like flying over a small city when I looked down and saw a hundred thousand scouts. Of course, I had never talked to that many people before. It’s a funny feeling because it takes your voice so long to reach everyone that it bounces back at you and throws off your timing.