My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [41]
“We will remove your tumor, yes?” he said, beaming. “It will be hard, but I have done this before.”
The reassurance and confidence in his voice were very different from what we were hearing from other people. His attitude was so upbeat and positive that it matched Farrah’s own outlook perfectly. She believed she had found the best person for the job.
NEVER SURRENDER
June 6, 2008
Another day of shocking news. Farrah’s biopsy came back and she does have another malignant tumor in the primary area. The doctor said it’s deeper than the other one, and the surgery will probably take a little longer than the one a year ago. I think we both sort of knew it, but hoped it wasn’t true. It was a real blow to her.
I put my arms around her and we both cried.
“I just don’t want to give up hope,” she said through her tears.
There wasn’t much I could say. She’d been through so much, and now she was facing yet another surgery on Monday. So I just held her close. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “But you can’t give up hope. You’ve come too far.”
Then the phone rang. It was her dad. She started crying when she told him, and I felt my own tears welling up again. Her dad, her pillar of strength, was listening to his only surviving daughter tell him the bad news.
Why, I wondered, was this happening to Farrah? Is there a lesson in all of this? I think there’s always a cause underneath any disease. Many spiritual teachers believe that all illness has a correlating mental equivalent. Louise Hay puts it succinctly: “when we create peace and harmony and balance in our minds, we will find it in our lives.” That makes so much sense…it’s just not easy to do.
I went back to my room, where I opened an e-mail from George. He said he was still shocked by my news about the cervical cancer, but it was good they got it so early. I e-mailed him back that I felt like I’d never really had it because by the time I knew I had it, it was gone. Cancer for a day. I said I figured the worst that could happen was I could die. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about being old and broke!
June 8, 2008
Neither Farrah nor I feel great today. Last night she started the thalidomide pills that are supposed to inhibit the cancer cells from growing. It’s the same thalidomide that caused all the birth defects in the sixties, and they’re now using it on certain fast-growing tumors. She had a couple of other shots today as well, and I woke up, after not sleeping well again, with my throat still sore. Also, I started bleeding from the surgery site, which made me nervous. What a pair we are.
“I liked it better when you were well and taking care of me,” she joked.
“You better get well, because the tables may turn soon,” I retorted. Bite my tongue.
My astrologer doesn’t like the date for Farrah’s surgery tomorrow. Mercury is still in retrograde and she says it’s possible she will have to repeat the surgery. She’d like her to wait until next Wednesday, but Farrah wants to go ahead with it. She just wants it out. I know if it were me, I’d wait the two days, but it’s her decision. And we know how stubborn she can be. My theory is, the more things you have on your side—even the stars—the better.
The weather is so chilly and gloomy today. It’s rained nearly every day since we’ve been here. I felt pretty good when we arrived, but now it’s getting really depressing. Even the weather is pessimistic. I feel like if we could just look out on those hills and see a ray of sunshine, it would be enough to lift our spirits. But no such luck. Maybe tomorrow.
I was supposed to have dinner with Mimmo tonight, but he called to say he was going to watch the Formula One race on television instead. I was waiting for him to invite me over, but he didn’t. Actually, it’s a relief, because I feel sick, but it’s a perfect example of his self-centeredness. I have to say, it’s starting to annoy me.
June 9, 2008
The taxi brought