My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [34]
Nothing like a change of scenery.
After our fourth trip to Germany, when they declared Farrah tumor free, we went to Mexico with our friend Bren Simon. It was March 2008, and this was our spring break. We flew down on Bren’s G5 and stayed at this incredibly beautiful house in Punta Mita. Farrah and I would lie in the sun, and there was a huge staff that would wait on us hand and foot. We ate every five minutes: they’d bring us watermelon juice, guacamole and chips, quesadillas, and margaritas at night.
There was this ATV, and I was determined to learn how to drive the thing. So I took one spin around by myself, then I pulled up alongside Farrah.
“Hop on!” I yelled.
She gave me a look like I was completely insane (which I probably was), crossed herself, and got on. At first it was kind of jerky, and I was going no faster than two miles an hour. Then I got the hang of it and we flew through the sand, laughing all the way. We went driving back and forth, up and down the beach. We drove past a wedding, and a guy came out and yelled at us for making too much noise. We sped away laughing.
We were there for a week, and it was a slice of heaven—the last time I remember Farrah really feeling good for a prolonged period of time. We talked so many times about going back there, but we never made it.
CANCER FOR A DAY
May 21, 2008
I woke up with horrible anxiety this morning. An elephant-sitting-on-my-chest kind of anxiety. I’m worried about Farrah, the looming trip to Germany, and, of course, as always, my future.
Farrah called from the hospital. She’d slept through the night, the MRI was okay, and the doctor said she could go home and rest there. She said they were giving her Dilaudid for the pain. I resisted the impulse to ask if I could have some. I’ve never had it, but according to drug addicts, it’s like heroin. Sounds mighty attractive right now. Maybe I can become a drug addict since I can’t tolerate enough liquor to become an alcoholic.
On top of everything else, I had a Pap smear done two weeks ago and it came back irregular. I freaked out and spoke to the gynecologist, who said this sometimes happens but the subsequent test they run would probably come back normal. I asked what happened if it didn’t, and she said they do something called a colposcopy, which magnifies the cells of the cervix to see if there are any irregularities. If there are, then they have to do a biopsy to see if it’s cancer. She said not to worry, because there was only a 5 percent chance it would be positive. I’d feel better if it was, like, 1 percent.
Of course, I’m already thinking it’s cancer. I don’t even know if it’s positive yet. But after all I’ve seen Farrah going through, cancer terrifies me. And I’ve also seen how it operates: it can come out of nowhere, when you least expect it, when you’re totally not prepared. It doesn’t play fair.
I called my old gynecologist, and she said my last Pap smear in December was fine and that other things can affect a Pap smear. She said I shouldn’t be concerned, so I decided—for now—to put it out of my mind. I don’t need one more thing to worry about.
May 25, 2008
Farrah and I were supposed to leave for Germany tomorrow, but I was at her house last night and she seemed too weak to travel. This morning I changed everything to Wednesday. It’s a big relief to her and to me. I can’t think straight. I still haven’t packed. I have piles of clothes on my bed and it’s too confusing to figure out what to take. I look like I’m going on a tour of Europe instead of to a medical clinic in Germany.
May 28, 2008
Finally, Farrah and I got off to Frankfurt. Well, barely. I arrived at her house at 2:00 for a 4:25 P.M. departure. We were supposed to be at the airport by 2:45 at the latest. It looked like a bomb had struck: suitcases still open and half packed, clothes everywhere.