Everybody's Got Something

  When we landed, there was a wonderful surprise. A big delegation from my alma mater, Southeastern Louisiana University, was waiting for me. Students, cheerleaders and our mascot, Roomie—a big, fuzzy lion—were all there. It was so special to see all the signs that read SWABBIN’ FOR ROBIN. I was just so thrilled that my school has conducted bone marrow drives to register donors. I was especially happy to meet the young woman who came up with the idea. Her father had a bone marrow transplant years ago, and his sister was his donor, too. Small world.

  After the great reception at the airport, Josh, Sam and I headed to a catering place—Mendenhall. Sam had been tweeting pictures of our trip. It just so happens my doctor, Sergio, follows me on Twitter. He saw me hugging people at the airport. Sergio sent me a LONG e-mail cautioning me to cool it with the hugs, reminding me that I was still very vulnerable to infection.

  He e-mailed me: “Stick with elbow bumping, Robin.”

  That’s very hard for me to do, especially around people I love the most.

  I had so much fun with my guys. We ate gumbo and po’boys, and the bread pudding was out of this world, so delicious. They had a brass band Mardi Gras theme, and we second-lined and danced all afternoon. Wonderful! Then we had a reception at one of Emeril’s restaurants in downtown New Orleans. I was exhausted but very happy.

  The next day, I got up early and hung out behind the scenes at GMA, which was broadcasting live near Jackson Square. NFL great Emmitt Smith and his lovely wife, Pat, were there. It touched me to see Emmitt wearing my bracelet! He even wore it when he was competing on the all-star edition of Dancing with the Stars. That meant a lot to me.

  I also had a very nice visit with country music star Tim McGraw, who performed on the show, and his stunning wife, Faith Hill. We spent time on their tour bus catching up. Tim looked fantastic. He works out and runs, and it shows. Faith was adorable as ever—she’s so cute with her braces. We talked and talked. I’ve known them both awhile. Both have appeared on my country music specials. They invited me to spend time with them in Nashville—I often say that I will, and hopefully this time I will. I get invitations like this frequently from celebrities who have become my friends. Usually when I do have free time, I just want to be at home with Amber and KJ.

  The next morning we drove from New Orleans to the Pass. It’s about an hour’s drive, one I’ve taken countless times, but this was different. It would be the first trip home since Momma’s passing almost six months before. I don’t think I ever felt such raw emotion. We first stopped at the Boys and Girls Club, the state-of-the-art facility in the Pass that my mom helped establish after Hurricane Katrina. The kids there had sent me many handmade get-well cards and wanted to see me. There was a large crowd at the Club to greet me. Did I say how much I love my hometown? The gym in the Club is dedicated to our family. When I saw the plaque above the gym door I broke down. My emotions were very much on the surface. Dorothy also stopped by the Club, and when she saw me she hurried away crying. Later I asked Amber what that was all about. She said Dorothy told her: “I can’t believe how frail my baby sister looks.” Amber assured her I was doing well, that despite my size I was getting stronger every day.

  When we pulled up in front of Mom’s house, I couldn’t get out of the car. I just stared at our family home. How I used to love to walk through the front door and hear Mom’s voice and then feel her squeezing my cheeks, kissing me—so happy to have me home.

  Dorothy was with me when I walked in and inhaled the comforting, familiar aroma. I looked to the heavens and said, “Momma, I’m home,” and Dorothy responded, “She knows.” The last time I left the house after Mom’s service, mere days before my transplant, I honestly didn’t know if I would ever be back. I walked around the house just taking it all in. Looking at family pictures. Mom’s little touches that made this house a home. And then I sat on her piano bench. Mom had bought the beautiful baby grand piano for herself after Katrina. It was a big deal for Momma to spend money on herself like that. She joked that she wanted to put a sign in the yard that read: I’M SPENDING MY CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE. That was more than fine with us.

  I hesitated when it came to deciding whether or not to show me going home in my special. I thought it might be too much. I can’t tell you how many people have thanked me for including it in the show. They, too, had felt similar emotions when they returned home for the first time after the death of a parent. It was somehow comforting to them to know they are not alone.

  The crew set up to do a sit-down interview at the house with me and my siblings. Sally-Ann and Butch would be arriving shortly. I treated the crew to the most delicious po’boys on the Coast from Pirate’s Cove. When we moved to the Pass it was located off Highway 90. I didn’t like seafood when I was young, so I would get their roast beef po’boys dripping in gravy. Now I opt for the dressed shrimp po’boys from Pirate’s Cove. The shrimp is crispy golden, cooked to perfection. Wash it down with a Barq’s root beer—now that’s what I call livin’!

  Katrina wiped out the original Pirate’s Cove on the highway, and for about eight years they were in a temporary location. The only seating: wooden picnic tables outside. I’m happy to report that in late 2013 Pirate’s Cove finally moved to a permanent location on Menge Avenue. The Pass is coming back.

  Butch, Sally-Ann, Dorothy and I sat in the family room in front of the stone fireplace we never use. It was the first time seeing Butch since Mom’s funeral. With cameras rolling we talked about faith, family and friends. I had planned on staying the night at the house with Amber and going to our church in the morning, the church where we’d had Mom’s homegoing. But emotionally I was not ready for that yet. One step at a time.

  Super Bowl Sunday was Ravens versus the 49ers. I really didn’t care about the matchup, though we were looking forward to Beyoncé and Destiny’s Child performing at halftime. What mattered most to me was just being with family in Sally-Ann’s home. We felt it was important for Mom’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren to know that we are still together. A united family.

  I was moved to tears by what each family member said to me: Rene, Bianca, Judith, Kelly, Jessica, Lauren—my sweet, beautiful young nieces.

  Kelly, Sally-Ann’s youngest daughter, was especially touching. She’s normally very quiet, but she spoke so eloquently about how much I mean to her and to our family. Kelly was feeling overwhelmed surrounded by such unconditional love.

  Jeremiah, Sally-Ann’s son, expressed his emotions through a music video: He’s so talented. He’s living in New York City now, attending the New School for Drama.

  Remember this name: Jeremiah Richard Craft. You’ll be seeing it up in bright lights one day.

  I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t totally exhausted from my first road trip. It was uplifting to see my family—I’ve never felt closer to them.

  When I got back to New York, I was a little more tired than before. I think the adrenaline of all the travel had worn off. I was grateful the trip went well with no complications. I had been a bit worried about that. I didn’t yet fully trust my body. Since I was feeling relatively fine before I got sick, every twitch or pain made me worry.

  February 5, 2013, was Mom’s birthday. She would have been eighty-nine years old. I really thought she’d live into her nineties. Her mother and grandmother did, and they had such hard lives and not the best health care. I really think Momma was tired—tired of being strong—tired of being alone since Daddy died. I never knew anyone who was looking forward to going to heaven more than Mom. The previous summer, when I went to visit her in the rehab center after her stroke, I wheeled her out in the patio to get some sun. She closed her eyes and started calling out the names of people she was seeing: Daddy, her mom, my brother-in-law’s mom, “Ma Dear.” She seemed so happy. When I nudged her to open her eyes she seemed disappointed that she was still here and not in heaven with them.

  After Mom’s birthday, Amber and I snuck in a trip to Key West. We had always wanted to go to Key West in F
ebruary, but we never could because of sweeps. February is an important month for ratings, when ad rates for the show are set. This year, 2013, was different, since I wasn’t yet back on the air. The weather in Key West was perfect: no humidity, not too hot. Usually, people recognize me, but are very laid-back.

  This trip was different. There were a ton of people coming up to me. They were so pleased to see me doing well, health-wise, and were excited about my return to GMA. ABC was running promos about my return: “Robin’s back!”

  While on vacation in Key West I started to think: “What’s the rush?” I wanted to stay an extra week or two, because it finally felt like I was relaxing. People think a medical leave is vacation. Trust me, it’s not. But being in Key West was.

  A week later, I returned to New York and had some time to reflect. My second trip away from the doctors had gone well. I felt fine physically, but not necessarily emotionally. I really began to wonder if I should take more time before going back to work. No one was pressuring me; ABC had been incredibly patient. My medical team said it was totally up to me. I was medically cleared to return to the anchor desk. The “test drives” had gone well. There was still a small problem with my eyesight, but they assured me it would get better. I decided to stick with the schedule that we set.

  On February 19, 2013, I had another routine doctor’s appointment, just to get the final all clear to return to work. Dorothy, Sally-Ann and Sally-Ann’s sister-in-law, Phyllis, had all flown in for my first show back. The night before my return to work, I couldn’t get to sleep. It was just impossible. I was so excited and nervous. First-day-of-school jitters.

  February 20, 2013. Finally, the day arrived.

  The night before, my sisters had urged me, “Take your hands off the wheel, just let people love you.” I was anxious about all the fanfare surrounding my return. Ben Sherwood, Anne Sweeney and other executives were there to greet me. They literally rolled out the red carpet for me. And a big red bow was wrapped around my anchor chair. We taped a special open with George, Sam, Josh and Lara huddled close to me.

  Before I entered the studio, I looked up at the heavens and said good morning to my parents. It was the first time I was going to be back on air after Momma’s passing.

  Then I walked to home base, took a deep breath and smiled. Then I said, “I’ve been waiting 174 days to say this: Good Morning, America.”

  One hundred and seventy-four days—WOW!

  The date was so significant. I came back to GMA on February 20, exactly five months after my transplant.

  President and Mrs. Obama taped a special greeting—so did Hillary Clinton, Oprah and country star and dear friend Brad Paisley; Buddy Valastro, the Cake Boss, made a delicious red velvet cake. Dr. Roboz and Dr. Giralt were interviewed on the show. When George and I ended our chat with them, I led a standing ovation for their nurses who were also in the studio. They are the unsung heroes. They are with you the most in the hospital and are the first to know when something the doctor prescribed is not working. During my comeback show, Sergio, Gail and the nurses kept a close eye on me the whole time. They nearly freaked out when I went outside during a commercial break to greet the large crowd. I could hear their voices in my head: “Be careful of the germs. The risk of infection is still great. Stick with elbow bumping, Robin.”

  But how could I not go outside and say thank you? Thank you, and you, and you! Thank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for not forgetting about me.

  Mandisa, one of my favorite singers, was our special musical guest and sang her hit song “Stronger.” The lyrics are so powerful:

  When the waves are taking you under

  Hold on just a little bit longer

  He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger

  The pain ain’t gonna last forever

  And things can only get better

  Believe me

  This is gonna make you stronger

  Believe me, this is gonna make you stronger.

  Dorothy, Sally-Ann and I—the Sisters Three—had been holding it pretty much together until Mandisa brought down the house. Dorothy in particular lost it. She is by far the most sensitive of the three of us. She’s the middle child. It pains Sally-Ann and me that Dorothy is sometimes overlooked just because her two sisters are on TV. We are as proud of Dorothy as she is of us. She makes some of the jewelry that I wear on GMA.

  All in all, I thought the show went well, but I realized I still had a long way to go, both physically and emotionally. To this day, I still can’t put on any weight because my metabolism is out of whack and will be for a year.

  I was exhausted after the show. I was also so relieved my return was behind me. Afterward I had a lovely brunch with Amber, Dorothy, Sally-Ann and Phyllis at Sarabeth’s near Central Park. It was a chance for me to catch my breath, though I still didn’t have much of an appetite and was quieter than usual. Everyone else did most of the talking. I realized I was more tired than I expected, plus I was taken aback by the number of people who wanted to take pictures with us when we left the restaurant.

  After brunch, when my sisters left for the airport, I didn’t break down and cry like I did the last time. Then I cried like a baby, like a two-year-old pleading for them not to go. I remember that I even rubbed my eyes like a bawling two-year-old. No tears this time; getting stronger, I guess. I hope.

  February 21, 2013 was day two back at GMA. A member of the crew, Jerry, said yesterday felt like “welcome back” and that today was more like “welcome home.” It was more normal; it was actually the day I was looking forward to more than the day before. I was craving normalcy, whatever that is these days. It was pretty much business as usual. I felt a little more comfortable in the anchor chair. I just wished I could see the teleprompter better.

  George, Lara, Sam and Josh were so incredibly supportive. They’ve shown our viewers how to care for an ill coworker. The show must go on, but my colleagues made me and GMA viewers feel as if I was there with them every day of my medical leave—that I was never far from their thoughts and hearts. They totally had my back.

  And, of course, I know that my angels are always watching out for me, too. Before my medical leave, each morning, I would blow a kiss before walking out onto the set. “Morning, Daddy, watch over Momma.” Now, I blow two kisses. Before I say good morning to America, I say, “Morning, Daddy. Morning, Momma. I love you.”

  Chapter 28

  Back in the Game

  I spent most of 2012 fighting for my life and then amazingly, miraculously, I began to get better. I went back to work on a very part-time basis, but it felt so good to be back in that chair. It was still a struggle to keep my weight up, and I was still on too many medications to count, but all signs indicated that the transplant was successful. I had traveled so far on a combination of faith and science. As Dr. Giralt said when he inserted my chest with millions of Sally-Ann’s stem cells, “Let God do His work and it will work.”

  As taking care of my health began to be less of a full-time job, other thoughts and concerns came flooding in. More than anything, I became aware that I had not fully grieved for Mom, and the wide range of emotions that I felt for her was almost dizzying. I recall going into her bedroom the day after she passed away and screaming, “Why did you leave me now?” I was so angry and scared. I’m not angry anymore—just incredibly sad. Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of her.

  I began thinking that I should book an appointment with Dr. A, my therapist. She and I had last seen each other after I had beat breast cancer. I thought I’d be thrilled with treatment being over, but I became depressed. There was no one to check on me on a regular basis after I’d seen a doctor every week and gone through chemo and radiation for almost a year. But it turns out that the sadness I felt was common in patients who’ve undergone extensive treatments.

  When I went to see Dr. A, she agreed that I had a wellspring of delayed grief and emotions concerning my mom. She also understood the transpla
nt regimen and the intense recovery after: It took every bit of mental and physical energy I had to make it through the last few months. But after a couple of sessions with Dr. A, I became so emotional that I decided to wait awhile before seeing her again. I realized I still wasn’t quite ready to deal with the hurricane of grief that was tied up in losing Momma. She assured me that I would know when the time was right.

  It was helpful that I already had a history with Dr. A. I first started seeing her after my dad died in 2004. Seeing a therapist is not a sign of weakness but rather an acknowledgment that you don’t have all the answers and you need help finding them. Plus I like the idea of a totally objective person. When you tell your problems to a friend, you may leave some things out because you’re embarrassed by what they might think. I find with a therapist you can be truly transparent. At times Dr. A has wanted to prescribe antidepressants for me, but I’ve always rejected the idea. I don’t think they’re wrong. They help millions of people. It just hasn’t felt like the right choice for me. I would rather meditate, exercise, eat healthy and get proper rest. And thankfully, that worked for me.

  Many days I never left my apartment. I would use the time to catch up on e-mails and send thank-you notes. I was so thankful for the viewer who sent me thank-you notes with stamped envelopes. If you are wondering what gift you can give a friend or loved one at home on a medical leave, thank-you notes with stamped envelopes will be much appreciated. Since eating out was still dicey, Bugs inspired me to cook more at home. I saw what joy it brought her. I would make something simple like turkey spaghetti or broiled pork loin with roasted veggies. Amber has a lot of wonderful qualities; cooking is not one of them. So she also benefited from Bugs motivating me to get busy in the kitchen. I do set a mean table, complete with burning candles.