Cancer Schmancer (5 page)

No leukemia, diabetes, lupus. Hormone levels normal, platelets normal. Everything was fuckin’ normal but me!

I was still in therapy and I remember describing what I thought was PMS and how hard it was when I felt like I was under its spell. One afternoon I was holding a writing session at my house when I noticed a favorite potted jade tree missing. Ramon had chopped it down and discarded it in the alley. I couldn’t believe it. “Why did you do that? It was one of my favorite plants!”

I ranted. Ramon had gotten the idea from someone that I didn’t like it. He apologized and promised me it would grow back. So I walked over to the dining table where the writers were working and rejoined the session.

But I just couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t get over this travesty and so I put down my pen, picked myself up, and marched back out to him, where I really went ballistic. Ramon told me I was making him feel like this one mistake had erased everything good he’d ever done, and that’s when I realized I’d gone too far.

So I started backpedaling: “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m very happy with the work you do. . . . I guess I’m just upset.” I hugged him and retreated back to the writers.

The incident was so out of character for me that I discussed it with my therapist. I mean, I wasn’t crazy or pathological; I knew I was acting strange. We concluded that the plant was me as a child. It was as if Ramon had hurt me and not the plant. For this I’m paying $150 an hour? But in fairness to my therapist, I did har-bor a lot of sorrow for those times as a child when I was made to 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 32

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sit by myself on the milk can outside our apartment door for mis-behaving. Those times I felt scared, misunderstood, and unloved.

I guess when the plant was set aside in the alley my subconscious reared its ugly head.

This satisfied me and seemed to explain why I’d overreacted, but in retrospect I think it was much more than that. Perhaps on some level I felt bad for the plant because I felt bad for me as a child, but my reactions were definitely fueled by some kind of chemical imbalance. No matter how deeply I dug into myself in therapy to understand and unravel my past, I’d always end by saying the same thing. “This normally doesn’t bother me, it’s just when I’m PMS-ing that I become so consumed by irrational anger and insecurity.”

And life wasn’t getting any easier. A week later Peter and I were called into the studio president’s office. Something was up. We walked together as we crossed the lot. For that moment we put our personal differences aside. As we entered the inner chambers of the top Columbia TriStar TV executives, they all seemed very solemn. I noticed a framed Nanny poster hanging on the wall.

That was a good sign. I thought perhaps we were going to get the usual ratings pep talk. I wondered if they knew Peter and I were having problems. But the situation was much graver than that.

They began by saying that they’d gotten a call from the president of CBS. The network wasn’t planning on renewing our option for a seventh season. Our hearts sank. The show was the only thread holding us together. It was our baby and now that, too, was coming to an end.

After much persuasion by the studio and network, I agreed to go public, announcing that it was my decision to end the show.

Better our audience think we were going out on top, by my choice, than that we’d been canceled. There was some hope that if the news came out midseason, it would somehow boost ratings and 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 33

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prompt a miracle pickup. I hated the idea of pretending it was my decision because I didn’t want everyone I worked with to think it was my fault they were losing their jobs. Nor did I want to be responsible for disappointing the millions of people who’d watched and supported the show all those years.

But pressure from the inside to do whatever it took to try to rescue our ill-fated show made me the fall guy. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was to stand before my entire cast and crew, as well as Peter and the writer-producers, and make that speech telling them I was ending the show. “In my life I’ve always stayed too long at the fair, but not this time, not with The Nanny,” I said, as my voice quivered.

Like real troupers, we were all inspired to wrap up the final episodes with style and panache. Some of our greatest shows emerged out of our despair, but for some reason unknown to me, the network that we helped keep afloat for so many years chose to abruptly pull us off the air. Brand-new episodes of The Nanny were shelved. Once the press release was out that I was the one quitting, the network quit us and I was left holding the bag. Elaine, as always, said it best: “I don’t mind if you shove an umbrella up my ass, but when you open it, you’ve gone too far.”

That’s why I love that woman!

Whatever was going down with the network, though, didn’t affect the camaraderie that still existed on our stage. Within the world of The Nanny it was a time of expressions of love and gratitude. We who’d worked so hard and given our all for the show sa-vored each and every moment we had left. There were many hugs and deep, tearful talks among us. We drank everything in so we wouldn’t forget how glorious it all once was. We knew something very special, very precious, and extremely rare was about to end.

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Friends

A p r i l 1 9 9 9

by the time we shot the final episode of the series my life had taken on a very different shape than at the time of the premiere episode six years earlier. The contrast was stunning; I often found it hard to believe myself. It was a bittersweet time to say the least. I didn’t know what my life would be like without the husband and the show. As long as I had The Nanny to keep me busy day after day, week in and week out, I never felt true loneliness; nor did I have the opportunity to experience what being on my own was really like.

When the MTV pilot hadn’t gotten picked up a few months earlier, I was disappointed, but a little relieved, too. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was going to be able to service both shows at the same time anyway. But when we were told The Nanny wouldn’t be returning for a seventh season, I called MTV and asked if we could retest the pilot if I edited it differently.

So during those final weeks of The Nanny, John and I tried to resurrect the pilot. I liked sitting in the editing room with him.

Although I’d mostly been dating younger men, I really never got any vibe from him that he was attracted to me. However, it was 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 36

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during this time that we gradually became friends. I started planning group events with some friends from the show who all had fun partying together, John included. Everyone liked to dance and have a good time.

At the end of work, when the whistle blew, I needed to let loose. Often we’d pile into a limo so no one would drink and drive, then head out to a club or a restaurant for the night. I just loved being around this circle of friends. For me it recaptured a youth I felt I’d never truly experienced.

Am I too old to be acting this way? I wondered sometimes. I know I’ve always looked younger than I am, but some of these folks were twenty-five. We all got along so well and had so much in common, though, that age was never a factor. I guess it was right for me at the time.

I became closer to my cousin Erica, who worked on The Nanny.

Our mothers are sisters, and it’s nice to have family in L.A. Then there was this gal, Jill, who lived next door to me at the beach.

When I met “good neighbor Jill,” as I nicknamed her, I liked her right away. She became one of the first good friends I made outside of my marriage. She was single, fun, and high energy.

Erica, Jill, and I went to the Super Bowl in Miami a few years ago. We had so much fun people-watching and partying it up in South Beach. One night we found ourselves in a club with k.d.

lang and Queen Latifah, cheering on Cher, who was lip-synching to her new single, “Believe.” I was psyched to meet her, since I’d always felt a certain connection to her.

In therapy I’d often talk about Cher. She, too, had been in a famous marriage that began when she was very young. I didn’t know her, but for some reason I identified with her. At first, when she and Sonny broke up, she seemed to have it all and be right in the center of things, but as the years went on, I thought she seemed lonely. I’m sure I was probably projecting my own fears of 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 37

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loneliness onto her. Maybe she was ecstatic in her life and completely fulfilled. I hoped so, for both our sakes.

The next night we bumped into Ben Stiller and Chris Rock, who were drinking and dancing with friends. Afterward, a bunch of us piled into a limo and headed to Lenny Kravitz’s house. That was an amazing evening that carried into the wee hours. What a simple girl from Queens was doing tripping the light fantastic with the likes of Cameron Diaz and Edward Norton I’ll never know. (Sometimes I get starstruck, too, and have to pinch myself to make sure I’m really there.) The evening’s only downer came when Lenny made us all take our shoes off before entering his home. My untanned legs were all marked up from the boots I was wearing, but thank God I’d shaved and had a pedicure!

Back in L.A. I remember we all went up to Ventura County for a Phish concert. About eight of us loaded into a limo and headed north. I love that band, and as it turned out, so did John. The two of us were so enthusiastic about the whole event. That band draws a big hippie crowd, so I was wearing my tie-dyed dress with peace signs all over it. Go figure I would live long enough to see something go in and out of fashion and then come back in again!

On the car ride home, I observed John as he talked with endless enthusiasm to one of the other guys we were with. I’d never known him to be so chatty. I guess he was beginning to relax a bit more around me. Maybe I was becoming less of “the boss”

when we all hung out together, but he certainly seemed to be letting his shoulder-length hair down.

Usually there was something restrained about him. At work he seemed like a different person: quiet, almost aloof, just doing his job. He’d come to me with questions about the show, but he didn’t try to engage me in a personal way, even though the night before we might have all been out dancing at the Martini Lounge.

He was definitely a conundrum. I did like working with him, 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 38

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though. Everything he did he did well, and with the utmost professionalism. He had an even temper and was never moody.

Anyway, as much as I liked running with my new friends, my body kept reminding me that physically I couldn’t keep up. I was experiencing a tenderness under my arms that I found worrisome.

I still didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d seen four doctors already who’d told me I was fine.

When my armpit felt swollen and sore, I feared that whatever it was had gotten into my lymphatic system. So I made an appointment with Doctor #5, an oncologist and a breast specialist.

When I entered his office, everyone who worked there was all smiles. I have to admit, it was a boost to my ego that they were so thrilled to meet me. Doctor #5 seemed particularly excited. As I lay on the table, he placed my right arm up over my head and began to feel my outer breast area. “You know, Fran, I have to tell you, I just love your show,” he said, circling the nipple on my breast with his fingers. Look at this. Two of my favorite things, being fondled and flattered at the same time.

“Thanks, Doc,” I giggled.

“I don’t really see any problems here, Fran. But you know what I’m really surprised about?” Uh-oh.

“No, what?” I said, fearfully.

“That really is your voice.”

“Who would make this up?” I responded.

It’s strange having a physician who’s a bit starstruck. But I guess it’s difficult for most people to separate the real me from my TV persona. Once I went to the proctologist to treat a hemor-rhoid. There I was with my ass in his face when he said, “Well, you’ve got quite the career going on there, don’t you?” Now, what was I supposed to say to that—Thanks, can I get off my knees now?

Anyway, Doctor #5 read my mammogram and told me my 9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 39

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breasts were unusually dense for a woman my age: “You have the tits of an eighteen-year-old.”

Well, if that didn’t make my whole day. I didn’t walk out, I floated. He’d told me what I wanted to hear: My body seemed young. It pacified me for the moment, but the truth is, I still left without a diagnosis. So I kept dancing as fast I could, burning the candle at both ends.

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John

J u n e 1 9 9 9

when we wrapped the show, Peter moved to New York for good. He and I pretty much knew it was over and that a divorce was imminent. I sold the dream house we’d so lovingly re-stored and dealt with the division of our estate. It was all very am-icable and civilized. No children to complicate matters, just a clean cut in half with one lawyer to set up the dissolution of the marriage. Still, we couldn’t speak to each other. We didn’t know how to be, what to be, except what we always were: two completely codependent and neurotically entwined best friends. It was the end of an era.

Surprisingly, when the show ended John became more encouraging of our friendship. In fact, the little gang of friends who’d partied together during the last months of The Nanny continued to cling together long after its final curtain. I don’t think any of us really wanted to disband right away, me least of all. The tighter I clung, the less I felt the deprivation.

One night I organized one of my group events at the House of Blues. It was an upper for all of us to once again eat, drink, and be merry. The band was great, and I found myself exchanging unex-9377 Cancer Schmancer 2/28/02 4:18 PM Page 42