Had I Known

by Joan Lunden

  Whenever Charlie and I get together these days, we reminisce about our years and the privilege we were given to wake up America. They are fond memories for both of us.

  It was a breathtakingly beautiful day in Maine when Charlie, Arlene, and their friends from down the lake piled on a golf cart with us for a tour around Camp Takajo. This was a slice of my life that Charlie had heard about for years but never seen. I think it gave him a lot of joy to see how at peace I was, even with my current situation.

  We had a wonderful catch-up visit. When it was time for a giant goodbye bear hug with my wonderful friend, Charlie held me a little tighter and a little longer than usual. He didn’t need to say a word. I understood exactly what it meant.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said in a soft whisper.

  CHAPTER 18

  Getting Back to Real Life

  I kept my diagnosis under the radar, even from the cast and crew of The Sopranos, because well-meaning people would have driven me crazy asking, “How are you feeling?” I would have wanted to say, “I am scared, I don’t feel so good, and my hair is falling out.” But I bucked up, put on my Carmela fingernails, and was ready to work.

  EDIE FALCO

  Actress, diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003

  Shortly after Charlie and Arlene left, Jeff and I locked up our summer paradise and drove south to Connecticut. With the kids in the car, we were headed back to what I usually referred to as “our real life.”

  I didn’t even know what that meant anymore.

  For most of the drive, I couldn’t help thinking about how much and how fast my life had changed in just a couple of months. When we got to Greenwich, it would change even more.

  And that terrified me.

  All summer long, I had been living in my very neat and secluded world on the lake where I was able to throw away everything in my pantry that wasn’t on my clean-eating plan and fill it and my refrigerator with only healthy choices. I was virtually living on my own. I could selfishly wake up when I wanted to, nap, come and go on my schedule, and make choices for me that were about me because my children were safely ensconced at sleepaway camp.

  Now I would be back in Greenwich, in a house filled with young kids, lots of chaos, and loads of temptations. I had been eating healthy meals all summer, and now I would be tempted by pasta, chicken wings, and cheeseburgers. And did I mention pizza?

  The protected little world where I had been able to stay healthy easily was about to be challenged in a big—okay, make that huge—way.

  During the summer, I also had Beth Bielat knocking on my door every morning. I totally understood what a luxury she was, and now I would need to make sure I stayed as active and physically fit so I didn’t lose the benefits of our hard work together. I knew how critical my active life and clean eating had been to the success of the aggressive chemo regimen so far. I didn’t want to do anything that would compromise those results so close to the finish line. I needed to constantly remind myself that my summer was an anomaly. I was damn lucky to have had that time. Had my diagnosis happened at any other time of the year, the circumstances of my treatment may have been very different, because I wouldn’t have been able to duplicate the intensity, focus, and single-mindedness with which I was able to approach my treatment in Maine; my “real” life wouldn’t have given me the same opportunity. In Maine, I didn’t have to figure out meals, schedules, lessons, work, obligations, and everything else a busy working mom deals with on a regular basis, which, even under ordinary circumstances, can be enough to take me down. I’d given myself a concentrated effort for three months, regardless of how protective my husband was and would continue to be, but you can’t stop life from happening around you.

  I had it good.

  Really good.

  Most women going through breast cancer treatments have to put on their wig, don a smile, and show up at work every day regardless of how they feel. Many of them don’t tell their employers and colleagues that they have cancer or are undergoing treatment because they’re worried it might affect their job security or chances for advancement. So they suffer silently, needlessly, without the support of their friends and coworkers, out of pure fear. The more I thought about that, the more upset I got. Of course, the more grateful I was, too, for having had the advantage of a very casual lifestyle for the first three months of my treatment. I’d had a playground to help make that time more tolerable. “Blessed” doesn’t begin to state how fortunate I felt to have had that time and space.

  But now, as the wheels of our car rolled me closer and closer to “real life,” I, too, would revert to business clothes; I, too, would go back to work; I, too, would be wearing a wig and a smile to work every day. And like so many others fighting this battle, I would be going to school functions.

  Max and Kate were starting a new school, which meant a new-student orientation for parents and kids. All I wanted was for everything to be as normal as possible for them.

  Life was so incredibly simple up in Maine.

  But real life is not always simple.

  CHAPTER 19

  A New Baby Brings New Joy

  I look at everybody differently. I look at every child differently. I look at every flower differently. I am grateful for every day. It’s like before and after . . . once you’ve had cancer, you just appreciate everything.

  SUZANNE SOMERS

  Actress, author, diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000

  As summer was coming to a close, so was my first round of chemo treatments. I was scheduled to have my eleventh treatment and my first back in New York City just before Labor Day weekend. Sleeplessness had proven to be one of the more annoying side effects of chemo, which had made me perpetually tired. My need for sleep hadn’t been helped by my efforts to stay properly hydrated, which translated to getting up several times at night to pee.

  I was very nervous about seeing Dr. Oratz for the first time in nearly two and a half months. I was worried that my blood counts might be so low that she and her team would take a dim view of giving me my treatment. Dr. Weisberg had closely monitored the fitness plan Beth had mapped out for me and the food and supplement regimen Dr. Z had me on. She’d been confident that even if my blood count was low, when she gave me the treatment, I would build myself right back up. I needed to bring Dr. Oratz up to speed so that she, too, would understand how hard we had worked to build me back up every week after my treatment. I didn’t want to lose any momentum or confidence in my progress.

  But as I suspected, after my blood was drawn, it indicated that my counts were down. Dr. Oratz spoke with Dr. Weisberg about the situation and decided I could have the eleventh treatment, but she would not give me the twelfth and final treatment of my chemo. She explained that my blood counts had been too low for too long; my bone marrow shouldn’t be pushed any further. She felt that my body had had enough for the time being. The best thing for me to do was give myself a break.

  She cautioned me to take the next month and build myself back up before starting the AC round of chemo, which was scheduled to begin on September 22. As I had heard so many times before, Dr. Oratz warned me that I could expect the AC round to be far more challenging. She wanted to go over my schedule to make sure I was being realistic about what I was committing to for work, especially speaking engagements. She was genuinely concerned about my plans to travel around the country on crowded commercial flights while my blood counts were so low. Knowing that I was the typical type A personality (you know, the person who believes she’s invincible and can do anything), Dr. Oratz was vehemently shaking her head as I laid out my overbooked schedule for the fall. She quickly reminded me that everyone reacts differently to chemotherapy but that going forward with AC, I would most likely be wiped out. I needed to understand that my immune system would be way too vulnerable to viruses. So while I could keep some of my prior commitments, she was insistent that I cancel several of the speeches.

  This wasn’t the news I had been hoping for. Throughout my entire ca
reer, I’ve never canceled a speech. I took it as a professional blow because I had made commitments to people that I couldn’t keep. I despised the idea of letting people down, going back on my word, and being unable to be there for an event.

  There had to be a way to salvage the situation. I didn’t want to leave anyone disappointed by pulling out at the last minute. That went against everything I stood for as a professional speaker. Then I remembered that Leeza Gibbons and a few other colleagues had written me thoughtful notes when I first announced my cancer diagnosis. Each had offered to stand in for me if I was unable to make an appearance. Well, I sure hoped they’d meant it, because I needed someone, and fast. I reached out to Leeza first, and she was an absolute doll, as always. She immediately agreed to fill in. While the event planners were initially disappointed by my inability to be there, they were very nice and understanding of my unusual circumstances.

  The following day, I got one of the shots they give after chemo infusions to bolster white blood cell production. Once it goes to your bone marrow, it’s like a drill sergeant calling up the troops to go to battle and mobilize as many white blood cells out of the bone marrow as possible to counteract all of the white blood cells that the chemo is killing off. While all of this is going on in your body, you feel awful. You can have pain in the larger bones in your body—mainly your lower back and hips—where the biggest battles are being waged. The pain is due to the fact that these are the sites where adults have the highest content of bone marrow and therefore the highest mobilization of the white blood cells. Sure enough, right after I took my first shot, I suddenly came down with what felt like a terrible case of the flu. I had been out shopping for some items for the house when I felt such terrible pain in my hip that I could barely make the drive home. I had never felt such sharp pain, and at the time, I wasn’t sure what caused it. Later, I understood it was the shot doing its job. I’m so thankful that I live at a time when we have medications that allow us to undergo toxic chemo treatments, though I wish they didn’t make us feel so nauseated, achy, and headachy. I began feeling worse with every passing hour. I was so happy to get under the covers, close my eyes, and take a nap. Napping was something that was new to me but had become a welcome pleasure, especially at moments like this. I didn’t want to go into Labor Day weekend feeling so lousy. As I dozed off, I thought, Maybe I’m just having sympathy pains for Lindsay; she had called earlier, saying she wasn’t feeling great, either. The mother-daughter connection is so strong between us. Of course, that must be it, I thought before falling asleep.

  Later that afternoon I was rousted back to consciousness by another call from Lindsay, who thought the reason she wasn’t feeling well was because she had gone into labor.

  Wait, really?

  Labor?

  But she’s two weeks early!

  I told Lindsay it was most likely false labor pains, or Braxton Hicks contractions.

  Lindsay said, “I know it’s early, but I’m telling you, these are real labor pains—real contractions.”

  She said she had already called Evan, who was on the golf course. Since she was planning to deliver at a hospital five minutes from our home in Connecticut, they would leave New York City when he got home.

  Lindsay and Evan arrived at our house around eight o’clock that night. By that time, her contractions were about six minutes apart. Evan called their doctor, who thought they should come right over to the hospital. Lo and behold, an hour later, Lindsay had been admitted to the hospital!

  This was no dress rehearsal.

  I could hardly believe it!

  Despite how lousy I had been feeling all day, Jeff and I started preparing to go to the hospital. Everyone knew it could be a long night, but there was no way I wasn’t going to be there for my daughter or the birth of my first grandchild. I kept quiet about how horrible I felt and muddled through by putting one foot in front of the other and wearing a smile to mask my pain.

  I don’t think I told Jeff how miserable I felt, for fear he wouldn’t have let me leave the house that night. Deep down, I knew he would want me to rest and take care of myself; he also wanted everything to be perfect for Lindsay. Neither of us wanted Lindsay worrying about me at a time like this. We wanted all of her focus and attention to be on the glorious occasion at hand—the birth of her first child.

  When we arrived at the hospital, we were able to see Lindsay and Evan and spend several hours with them, until one-thirty in the morning. The doctors finally told us we should go home and get some rest. They thought Lindsay wasn’t likely to deliver for several more hours.

  Sleep sounded pretty good to me, but I was torn about leaving Lindsay’s side. Evan’s parents had arrived from Baltimore, and we all agreed it was the smartest thing to do. Evan promised to call the moment there was any news.

  The house phone rang at five-thirty A.M. When your phone rings at that ungodly hour, it’s for one of two reasons—good news or bad news. Joyfully, it was Evan calling to say that Lindsay had just delivered the baby! We should all come back to the hospital!

  We jumped up and dressed as quickly as possible and headed straight back to Greenwich Hospital. I was so excited by the call, and admittedly half asleep, that I forgot to ask the baby’s name, which they had been secretive about for months.

  When we arrived, Evan was in the waiting room. He took us to the maternity ward to meet his daughter . . . our granddaughter . . . a beautiful seven-pound, three-ounce baby girl named Parker Leigh.

  When I caught my initial glimpse of this gorgeous little girl, my first thought was She is SO tiny, SO cute.

  When the nurse took off her small knit hospital hat, we were surprised to see that she had a full head of dark hair. That was a bit of a shock, because Lindsay and Evan are both dirty blondes.

  “Where did that come from?” we all joked.

  And is it bad that I secretly envied that gorgeous head of hair?

  Throughout the day, friends and family were called with the joyous news. One by one they came to visit and meet little Parker Leigh. I smiled and did my best to put up a brave front but sat somewhat lifeless in a chair off in the corner of Lindsay’s room. I said very little because I felt so awful that I could hardly maintain an okay exterior. If I could have, I would have lain down on the floor and closed my eyes. In retrospect, I should have gone home, but I didn’t want to miss a moment of the celebration. I finally left the hospital that afternoon to get the second shot to bolster my white blood cell count. Then I went home to get some rest.

  Well, Labor Day sure took on a whole new meaning for us that weekend. However, once the excitement of welcoming Parker Leigh into the world had passed, the rest of the weekend was a complete write-off for me. I was completely out of it, with severe stomach pain, nausea, headaches, and aching bones—all side effects of the medications I was on. Thankfully, Lindsay and Evan had so many visitors, I was hoping they didn’t notice my absence.

  I struggled with terrible bouts of guilt for feeling so bad during these seminal moments of Lindsay’s life. Her pregnancy had coincided with my diagnosis. It should have been the happiest time of her life, upbeat and full of celebration and frivolity, not downtrodden and full of doctor visits and chemo treatments with her mom. I knew she didn’t mind, and there was nothing anyone could do about the timing—which sucked—but I would have much preferred going to ultrasounds with her, listening to little Parker’s heartbeat, over sitting in a chair getting chemo any day of the week.

  Lindsay has since told me that she knew how bad I was feeling the day Parker was born, but she had Evan, her family, and so many other people there for her, too. She didn’t want me to worry any more than I wanted her to worry. She said what mattered to her most was how excited I was about the new baby. And despite how lousy I felt, she was so happy that I was there. Hearing this from Lindsay filled my heart with joy and contentment. It makes me so proud to know that as her mom, I’ve done a pretty good job. And now that she’s a new mom, I know (or at least hope) s
he will pass on that wisdom and knowledge to baby Parker. Honestly, that’s the greatest gift any parent could ask for—that and a new grandchild.

  CHAPTER 20

  A Bold, Bald Move

  I feel it’s important to make a mark somewhere.

  EVELYN LAUDER

  American businesswoman and philanthropist, who established the Breast Cancer Research Foundation and formalized the Pink Ribbon for Breast Cancer Awareness, diagnosed with breast cancer in 1989

  As the blissful celebration of Parker Leigh’s birth was winding down, the reality of real life was setting in. The twins were heading back to school, with Kate and Max starting middle school. I was going back to work after a peaceful summer in Maine, and Kate Coyne, an executive editor at People magazine, was calling to discuss my upcoming photo shoot for the cover. She wanted to know if I would consider going on the cover of the magazine . . . BALD!

  What?

  Seriously?

  They were sending a photographer to my home in early September to shoot for a late-September cover, just before Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October. Kate Coyne was pressing hard for me to do the cover bald, saying she felt it would be iconic and could make a big difference for women with breast cancer everywhere. They wanted to show women everywhere who were undergoing chemotherapy that their worst fear—hair loss—was nothing to be ashamed of. She made a point of saying, “If Joan Lunden can conquer this considerable hurdle and look amazing while doing it, then so can any woman.” She was sure that if I said yes, it would have a powerful and positive impact all over the world.

  WOW!

  This was a lot to take in, especially coming off the emotional high of the weekend I’d just had, coupled with feeling so physically bad. Although I was starting to come out of my chemo-induced funk, I was on the fence about the request from People.