My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [72]
The vet’s assistant called and said Lolita was doing fine and in recovery. Then he told me that they had sent the tumor for another biopsy because it was deeper than they had thought and had blood vessels going from it. Fatty tissue tumors, which the doctor had thought that it was, don’t generally have blood vessels attached. That’s all I needed to hear to throw me into a full-scale panic attack. What if it’s malignant? I tried to get some encouraging words out of him, but I wasn’t at all satisfied. He said they had to send it in to the lab to rule out malignancy, but he didn’t leave me feeling very reassured. He also told me that her left hip joint has some dysplasia, and that’s why she seems to be having trouble with her left leg. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to my dog. I can’t bear it. Not now. Not any time soon. I just can’t bear any more loss right now.
I picked her up this evening and she was very quiet and subdued. She’s sleeping on the living room rug now. I curled up beside her and just lay there.
April 9, 2009
I went to the hospital to meet Ryan and bring Farrah home. We disguised her and got her into the wheelchair and out the back door of the hospital to avoid any paparazzi. She went straight to bed and to sleep when we got back to the apartment, and Ryan and I watched the documentary footage. We really wanted it to be great, but it wasn’t what we had hoped it would be. Initially Ryan was a lot more critical than I was, because I needed to think about it for a while, but then what I realized was that it was very confusing.
It always worried me that Farrah was so positive she could control it all. Whenever I voiced my concerns she’d say, “Don’t worry, I have final approval. We’ll go into the edit room and work on it. It’ll be fun.” But I knew she was getting sicker and that she wasn’t going to be able to physically do what she would have to do to ensure that it would turn out how she envisioned. I don’t know what will happen.
April 10, 2009
Finally, Lolita’s vet called to say the second tumor was malignant, but he quickly pointed out that it wasn’t the kind of cancer that spreads throughout the body or metastasizes. It will, however, more than likely come back unless Lolita has radiation or a second surgery that’s very invasive. He doesn’t recommend radiation for her because she’s almost nine years old and has Addison’s disease, and radiation wouldn’t necessarily ensure that the tumor won’t come back. He said the second surgery would get all the cells in the surrounding tissue and would give her a better chance of the tumor not recurring. But even that wouldn’t be for sure.
I’m so confused. My instinct is not to put Lolita through this torturous surgery and just start a lot of prayer work for her. My minister says that animals really respond to prayer. She’s been sleeping on the bed again. She can only put her front paws up, and I have to lift her bottom up. I just want to slow down the clock and have her live for many more years, but that wouldn’t be possible even without the tumor. She’s already nine and big dogs like her don’t have such a long life span. I just want it not to be real; a figment of my imagination. By bedtime, I felt beat up and numb with depression. Why am I surrounded by cancer?
April 13, 2009
I cooked Easter dinner for the kids last night: fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, black-eyed peas, and cornbread. Good Texas food. I took some over to Farrah today, and Ryan got her to eat a little. She’s hardly been eating anything.
Farrah was strong enough today to have a meeting with her attorney and business manager, Bernie Francis. When Bernie asked her who she wanted in charge creatively of the documentary, she very clearly said “Ryan” and succinctly explained why. She sat up in bed and said, “Ryan and I have been together so many years and I trust