My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [85]
“Who don’t you like?” I asked.
Very faintly, she tried to get the words out: “That magazine.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “You were upset with them because you thought they said something about you a long time ago?” Farrah raised her hand and made a “F—you” sign. Mela and I both laughed. That was Farrah, defiant to the end.
June 20, 2009
I woke up this morning thinking about Farrah. There doesn’t seem to be much time that I’m not thinking about her. I’ll go up to see her today. I haven’t been to the hospital for the past two days because I’ve been sick and didn’t want to give her anything. Everyone here seems to be sick. Ryan is sicker than I’ve ever seen him. He’s had a terrible flu the last few days. Farrah and I used to laugh about how strong he is. She’d say, “If Ryan gets a cold, it lasts about a minute.” Even when he was diagnosed with leukemia, they came out with a drug a few weeks later that put it right into remission. He’s still in remission after eight years. I sometimes forget he has cancer, too. I don’t like to think about it. Ryan is indestructible. Isn’t he? He has to be. I couldn’t even face the thought of him getting sick.
Before I went to sleep last night I called Dr. Jacob in Germany. Maybe I’m grasping for one last straw, but I feel like I can’t give up yet. I told her how Farrah is doing, and she said, “It doesn’t sound good, Alana.”
“Can’t anything be done? I feel like she’s just lying there dying. Isn’t there something you can do?” She could hear the frustration and desperation in my voice.
“She should have this new antibody that they’ve just approved in Germany, but she can’t have it while she’s in the hospital. She would have to come home first.”
“Can it help at this late stage?” I asked.
“They’ve just had a conference on it in Florida, and it has been quite successful in arresting very late stages of cancer. It’s just been approved here in Germany but it still isn’t approved in the States,” she explained.
“This is crazy,” I said, exasperated. “If there’s something that might possibly help her, let’s give it to her. She’s just going to lie there and die and they’ll just keep her drugged and comfortable until she goes. I’ll give her the damn shots myself if I have to. How do we get it?”
“We will have to wait until she gets home. Nothing can be done while she’s in the hospital, Alana.” I could tell she was also frustrated.
Right. Of course. Better she should just have lots of pain medication and go peacefully. What if she doesn’t want to go? Especially if there’s something else left to try. A very slim chance, maybe, but still a chance. I almost wish we’d stayed in Germany. At least I feel they’re more proactive there. And what if I did give her this new drug myself and what if she died? Would I be arrested for murder? How does that work? Okay, I realize I can’t do something like this on my own, but it makes me crazy. There’s something that might help her and we can’t get it to her. Dr. Piro says she’s in such a weakened state that giving her something new might push her over the edge. Her body seems to be failing, and something that causes a reaction, even though it would have a good result if she could tolerate it, might kill her. Would I want to take that chance? Would I want that responsibility on my shoulders? Mela and I talked about it last night. If there’s a chance it could help pull her out of this, she feels we should do it, no matter what. She thinks it’s worth it, and I think I do, too. What is there to lose? She can’t and won’t go on much longer like this. I wish she were able to make this decision herself. I know what she would do, though. I already know.
June 22, 2009
This will be my last entry. The doctor said that it’s only a matter of time, and I can’t bring myself to write anymore. It seems this journey is almost over. I’m no longer numb. Crying is much easier lately; in fact, I’m surprised I have any tears left in me.
I went to the hospital tonight to see “our girl.” As I pulled the chair close to her bed, Farrah opened her eyes and smiled