Everybody's Got Something (8 page)

My mind flashed back to parallel moments in my childhood. My mom had so many beautiful things that she had collected during my father’s travels with the Air Force. As the wife of an enlisted officer, we never had a lot of money, but she scrimped and saved and bought mementos that made our home come alive. You can’t do much to military housing except change the paint. But Mom made each of the many cookie-cutter homes we lived in special. I was a rambunctious kid, full of energy, always happy to toss around anything that bounced. How many times had I broken something in my mother’s house? How many times had I cried harder than she would have ever yelled? How many times had she held me and told me that things don’t matter, people do? Now it was me, holding her, wiping away her tears and whispering assurances. But Mom wasn’t a child. She was an elderly woman doing her best to grow old with dignity.

The next day, Mom was scheduled to discuss her book on ABC’s
The View
. In the last years of her life, Mom seemed to be on her own roller-coaster ride, rolling from fragility to fierceness and back again. The morning of her TV appearance, she was back in fine form. My Team Beauty—the Glam Squad, Elena and Petula—worked their magic on Mom. Diandre, my trusty stylist, dressed her in a stunning copper-colored St. John outfit bought special for the occasion. It was wonderful to be able to give Momma the royal treatment. After the Glam Squad was done getting Mom ready for the show, she looked in the mirror and jokingly said, “Can I help it?” Meaning, “Can I help it that I look this good?” And she did look good.

During the interview, she was so funny and so generous with her life lessons that she had the audience and the ladies of
The View
eating out of her hand. I was particularly moved by a moment Mom and Whoopi Goldberg shared on the set after the cameras stopped rolling. Apparently Mom’s mannerisms and wise words resonated with Whoopi and made her think of her own mother. I’ll never forget Whoopi kneeling in front of Mom, tears in her eyes as they spoke. Whoopi had lost her mother just two years before. I thanked God in heaven that I still had mine.

T
hat June, Lara Spencer and I traveled together to London for the Queen’s Jubilee. I still hadn’t told her about my diagnosis. Sam was the only co-anchor who knew. Back in late April he figured out on his own that something just wasn’t right with me, and I confided in him. I appreciated how he kept the news to himself. Everything changes when you tell someone you’re sick. I just wanted to be treated like Robin.

I went off to London with some very good news. When the tests first came in about Sally-Ann being my match, the first indications were that she was a 3-for-3 match. By the time additional tests had been completed, it showed that Sally-Ann was a 10-for-10. She could not have been a better match for me if we had been born identical twins. While so much of my journey with MDS was puzzling and seemed so unfair, I knew that news like this was more than a gift; it was a big, flashing neon sign from God reminding me to let myself be led by faith and not by fear.

Lara and I always have a great time working together. She left us in 2003 to host
The Insider
, but she returned in 2011 and I was so glad. We have a similar zest for life, and neither one of us take ourselves too seriously. We are both nuts about sports, especially tennis. Lara was also a sports reporter at one time, and she attended Penn State on an athletic scholarship for springboard and platform diving. A huge bonus is that we have the same size shoe, so we share! I knew it would be my last work assignment abroad for some time, so I really let myself enjoy every moment, from a champagne toast with Lara on the plane to getting dressed up in a fascinator hat for the Jubilee. We stayed with our crew at the Metropolitan Hotel in the heart of London. The hotel restaurant off the lobby turns into a raging nightclub in the evenings. We didn’t have to venture far to enjoy ourselves after work. We were in London for only a few days, but we made every moment count.

I always enjoy visiting London. The first time I went, I was about seven years old. We happened to arrive on the Fourth of July. I remember asking my parents: Why are there no fireworks here? Ooops! The entire family was together: Mom, Dad, Butch, Sally-Ann and Dorothy. We stayed at a quaint bed-and-breakfast. Mom enjoyed having afternoon tea: milk, not cream, and lemon was a no-no. It was accompanied by a three-tier tray of delicious finger sandwiches, scones with yummy cream and jam, sweet pastries and cakes.

Some of my favorite family photos were taken at Hyde Park. One is of me squished between my two big sisters. Sally-Ann was in a full-on teenage rebellious stage. She had a big white headband and a poncho she made by ripping a hole in our mosaic tablecloth. Dorothy struck a model pose with one hand in her pocket and her big white purse slung over one shoulder. I, in pigtails and knee-high socks, stood frozen at attention with both hands by my side. Another photo is of me and my handsome big brother, who is wearing a snappy corduroy blazer. It was a treat to have him on vacation with us. He was in college at Rutgers at the time. We are twelve years apart in age, so I was going into the first grade when he headed off to college. I treasure the picture of Butch and me sitting at the edge of a fountain in Hyde Park, feeding the pigeons.

My Grandma Sally actually traveled to England in 1953. Her son, my uncle William, was in the military and stationed there. Aunt Bessie was about to have a baby, and Grandma Sally wanted to be there. Grandma had never ventured far from Akron, Ohio. She was terrified of flying (Butch isn’t a big fan of flying, either), so Grandma boarded the
Queen Mary
and set sail for England. She arrived just in time for Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, and she joined the throngs outside Buckingham Palace. She brought back to Akron little coronation trinkets and keepsakes. She proudly displayed them in her home on Lucy Street, next to the latest issue of
Jet
magazine.

How could she ever have imagined that decades later her granddaughter would have dinner with the Queen of England at the White House? I told you about the Bushes inviting me to my first State Dinner…“
Hey, SportsCenter!
” was how President Bush always greeted me. Well, earlier that day I interviewed Mrs. Bush for a segment on
GMA
. After the interview I told her about my grandma attending the Queen’s coronation and my mother’s hope that I could share that story with Queen Elizabeth. Sure, Mom, no problem, I’ll just chat up the Queen. When I was going down the receiving line to greet the Bushes along with Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip, I froze. I was walking away when Mrs. Bush said: “Your Majesty, this is the young woman I was telling you about. Her grandmother was in London at the time of your coronation.” I can’t even remember the Queen’s response. But I do remember Mrs. Bush’s thoughtfulness and my mom’s excitement when I called her later that night.

Another fond memory I have of London is when my folks joined me at Wimbledon one year. They both enjoyed traveling, and I often invited them to come along with me on assignments. We stayed at the Langham Hilton. It has a glass elevator with the stairs winding around it. Mom and Dad would get in the elevator, and their baby girl would take the stairs and race them to our floor. I can still see them laughing in the elevator as I bounded up the stairs two at a time.

You have no idea what it was like to see my folks, in their Sunday best, sitting in the crowd at Wimbledon. I had always dreamed of them being there to see me play on Centre Court. Being in the press box for ESPN was a close second. I had a microphone in my hand instead of a tennis racket, but it was every bit as sweet. London will always hold a prominent place in my heart.

When I returned from London, I decided the time had come to tell George, Josh and Lara about my diagnosis. I spoke to George first. George is a true gentleman. He reminds me a lot of my father. Reserved, quiet and devoted to family. Like my dad, George is quick to laugh. He has to be, since he is married to the hilarious, not to mention gorgeous, Ali Wentworth. Since George is somewhat of an introvert, I thought it best to tell him on the phone. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable with such personal news.

“I’m just in awe of how you’ve handled this,” George said. “All this time, coming to work, doing your job, never showing a sign that something was wrong. I love you and I know you are going to beat this. You’ll hit it with all the courage and grace you’ve shown your whole life.”

A few days later I received an e-mail from George. He’d had more time to absorb what I told him. It was one of the most thoughtful e-mails I have ever received. He shared scripture with me. That comes easier to him than you may think, because his father is a Greek Orthodox priest and his sister is a nun. I felt closer to George than I ever had at that point. It was at that moment I realized just how much we do have in common.

I told Josh and Lara together. Josh and Lara are extremely talented and pure energy. Full of life like two big, affectionate golden retrievers. I love it when we hang out after the show, as we often do. It was most difficult to tell them because they were so emotional—we just kept hugging each other and crying. I could sense they were truly scared for me, and I knew they were also wondering what was going to happen with the show. As I had looked to Charlie and Diane for guidance, Josh and Lara now looked to me.

Everyone wanted to know what I needed, and I told them, “What I need, more than anything, is normalcy.” When you’re facing a health crisis, you crave normalcy. So much in your life is not normal anymore. You feel reluctant to tell anybody, because you don’t want to be treated differently.

When Nora Ephron died of leukemia, I could tell that some people she knew were upset that she hadn’t shared her diagnosis. What I know is this: Each of our journeys is different and personal. There’s not a one-size-fits-all when it comes to this or any other type of life-threatening illness or challenge. You’ve got to do what is best for you.

I understand why Nora chose to be so private about her illness. Because you just want to be you, she just wanted to be Nora. She just wanted people to say, “Hey, let’s go to dinner. Let’s do this or that.” When you tell people you’re sick, your friendship changes. As much as your friends don’t want it to and they try not to change, they can’t help it.

What I wanted most of all was for friends to be normal. Don’t treat me like I’m on the
Titanic
. “
Don’t you say your good-byes, Rose.
”

When I address a group of people and talk about my story and they’re asking me questions—especially when it’s a cancer-related forum—I will say to the audience at some point, “There are people sitting next to you that you might not even know that they’ve gone through this or are going through that, and they don’t want you to know, and that’s their right.” And I can look out at the audience and see the people who have kept their battles private almost exhale. They’ve been wondering, “Am I a bad person for not telling people? For not sharing this?” I take that pressure and guilt off of them and say, “No, that’s your decision. That’s your choice, as this has been my decision.”

Recently, my friend and colleague Amy Robach agreed to do a mammogram, on air, as part of a “
GMA
Goes Pink” campaign to kick off Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The idea was for Amy, who’d never had a mammogram, to demystify it for women who might be nervous. As Amy explained, “I’m forty, and the truth is I’d been putting off getting a mammogram for a year. Between flying all over the world for work, running around with my kids to school, ballet and gymnastics, like so many women, I kept pushing it off.” Amy was nervous about the producers asking her to do her first mammogram on air and she came to see me. She knew that I was a believer in “make your mess your message.” But she was apprehensive about having cameras film such a private moment. Remembering the thousands of women who went in for mammograms after I revealed my breast cancer diagnosis on air, I urged her to do the segment. “If one life is saved because of early detection, it’s worth it,” I told Amy.

She was so nervous that morning, but she bravely did her first mammogram on air. I remember that she had this gigantic smile on her face when the segment was over. “It hurt so much less than I thought!” she said. “It was like nothing.” Then a few weeks later, there was a diagnosis: Amy had breast cancer. She later told me, “Robin, your words kept echoing inside of me: If I got the mammogram on air, and it saved one life, then it would be all worth it. It never occurred to me that life would be mine.”