Cancer Schmancer by Fran Drescher Page B
Authors: Fran Drescher
Tags: United States, Medical, Biography & Autobiography, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Actors, Biography, Health & Fitness, Patients, Diseases, Oncology, cancer, Uterus
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to cancel their vacation. Let’s see what happens,” I answered, clearly in denial of the gravity of my situation.
“Fran, just say it. It’s okay. If you want them to come, they’ll come! Just say it!”
But I simply couldn’t fit the words in my mouth. I’ve never asked anyone to sacrifice anything for me. I could take care of myself. “I want to wait until Friday, when I see the doctor,” I answered, weakly. I just couldn’t say what she wanted to hear, so she began to cry now, as well as scream.
“Why can’t you just say it? You never just say what you want!”
But I couldn’t and I didn’t. Calmly and quietly I said, “Nadine, I just found out I had cancer today. I want to decide this on Friday, after I see the surgeon.”
What she was expressing in all her rage was a lifetime of feelings that she hadn’t ever voiced before. And she was right. I never said what I wanted, never asked for help, never let anyone in. I never 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 87
The First Night with Cancer
87
opened up and shared my pain with anyone. And for everyone, but especially for my older sister, Nadine, that must have been an isolating hardship. Her voice instantly lowered and calmed. Though still filled with emotion, she became gentle and sympathetic.
“Okay, will you please call me if you need me?”
“I will.”
“Any time of the day or night, I’m here for you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
In that conversation, through my sister’s fear and frustration, I saw myself as other people experience me, and I felt bad and inadequate as a friend, wife, daughter, and sister. John couldn’t understand why she was yelling at me on the day I was diagnosed with cancer, but for the first time in my life I understood.
I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was lucky I had both a mate and a dog. Neither one was ever really able to change anything for me, but there was a grounding factor to their presence.
They were warm and loving and kept me from falling deep into my despair.
But when they were both sleeping and I was staring at the ceiling in solitude, my mind played tricks on me. And like the ceme-tery nightmare in Fiddler on the Roof, everything seemed to be leading me back to one conclusion: My days were numbered. The dog was aged. The marriage was over. My career had crescendoed with The Nanny, and in the silence of the night they all seemed to be nails in my coffin.
Why had I felt a recent urge to make out my will? Why had my favorite fish died? Why had I left Peter? Why had I told John he completed my life? Why? Why? Why? Because I must be about to die!
It all made so much sense. It was all over, now it was just a 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 88
88
Cancer Schmancer
matter of time. I began to weep on my pillow, and as I sobbed John woke up. Bless his heart, he’d always wake out of a sound sleep to hold and comfort me. My thoughts were so loud in my head, but when I spoke, the words came out as whispers in the night, in the darkness, in my bed.
Panicked, I rattled off my hardly audible thoughts: “I think this must be it, maybe this is it. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.
Was I bad, am I bad, is it because I hurt Peter, is that why this is happening?” But John whispered back that I was good, that he was there, and that we’d get through this.
In the morning he left for work and I called the surgeon, Doctor #9. Fuck it, I had to do something to gain some sense of control. “Why do I have to wait until Friday?” was my first question.
Now that I knew I had cancer, every minute of every hour seemed like an eternity. I mean, what do you do with yourself? How do you pass the time when you know there’s a cancer within you?
One good thing she said was that we didn’t have to wait until we met on Friday to schedule an operating room. She said if I wanted her to, she could book me in for the following Wednesday.
There was a
“Fran, just say it. It’s okay. If you want them to come, they’ll come! Just say it!”
But I simply couldn’t fit the words in my mouth. I’ve never asked anyone to sacrifice anything for me. I could take care of myself. “I want to wait until Friday, when I see the doctor,” I answered, weakly. I just couldn’t say what she wanted to hear, so she began to cry now, as well as scream.
“Why can’t you just say it? You never just say what you want!”
But I couldn’t and I didn’t. Calmly and quietly I said, “Nadine, I just found out I had cancer today. I want to decide this on Friday, after I see the surgeon.”
What she was expressing in all her rage was a lifetime of feelings that she hadn’t ever voiced before. And she was right. I never said what I wanted, never asked for help, never let anyone in. I never 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 87
The First Night with Cancer
87
opened up and shared my pain with anyone. And for everyone, but especially for my older sister, Nadine, that must have been an isolating hardship. Her voice instantly lowered and calmed. Though still filled with emotion, she became gentle and sympathetic.
“Okay, will you please call me if you need me?”
“I will.”
“Any time of the day or night, I’m here for you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
In that conversation, through my sister’s fear and frustration, I saw myself as other people experience me, and I felt bad and inadequate as a friend, wife, daughter, and sister. John couldn’t understand why she was yelling at me on the day I was diagnosed with cancer, but for the first time in my life I understood.
I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was lucky I had both a mate and a dog. Neither one was ever really able to change anything for me, but there was a grounding factor to their presence.
They were warm and loving and kept me from falling deep into my despair.
But when they were both sleeping and I was staring at the ceiling in solitude, my mind played tricks on me. And like the ceme-tery nightmare in Fiddler on the Roof, everything seemed to be leading me back to one conclusion: My days were numbered. The dog was aged. The marriage was over. My career had crescendoed with The Nanny, and in the silence of the night they all seemed to be nails in my coffin.
Why had I felt a recent urge to make out my will? Why had my favorite fish died? Why had I left Peter? Why had I told John he completed my life? Why? Why? Why? Because I must be about to die!
It all made so much sense. It was all over, now it was just a 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 88
88
Cancer Schmancer
matter of time. I began to weep on my pillow, and as I sobbed John woke up. Bless his heart, he’d always wake out of a sound sleep to hold and comfort me. My thoughts were so loud in my head, but when I spoke, the words came out as whispers in the night, in the darkness, in my bed.
Panicked, I rattled off my hardly audible thoughts: “I think this must be it, maybe this is it. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.
Was I bad, am I bad, is it because I hurt Peter, is that why this is happening?” But John whispered back that I was good, that he was there, and that we’d get through this.
In the morning he left for work and I called the surgeon, Doctor #9. Fuck it, I had to do something to gain some sense of control. “Why do I have to wait until Friday?” was my first question.
Now that I knew I had cancer, every minute of every hour seemed like an eternity. I mean, what do you do with yourself? How do you pass the time when you know there’s a cancer within you?
One good thing she said was that we didn’t have to wait until we met on Friday to schedule an operating room. She said if I wanted her to, she could book me in for the following Wednesday.
There was a
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