Sure enough, four months later, Farrah’s cancer was back. On a scan, her doctors found a malignant polyp.
She called my house to talk to Brad about what he thought she should do next. He wasn’t an oncologist, but he knew many of them. They talked for a while, and after they hung up, Brad started doing his own research, going through medical literature and speaking with experts.
The specialists in Houston he spoke with thought she’d need surgery that would have her wearing a colostomy bag for the rest of her life. He found a doctor in London who’d had success with medical and surgical treatment that wasn’t as radical, and he left a message with Farrah urging her to get in touch with him. At that point, as memory serves, her cancer had not yet spread.
A few days later, she called to thank Brad for all he’d done but said she’d decided to go in a different direction. She was heading to Germany. Through friends, Farrah had found a doctor named Ursula Jacob based in a town called Bad Wiessee. Dr. Jacob had made a name for herself treating celebrities with supplements and alternative practices. My husband was skeptical of her course of treatment, especially the clinics that offered her untested “cures.” But I knew what the word cancer did to someone. I knew how devastating it was for her or anyone to be told that radical surgery was her only chance. She thought she had time to try something else first.
Farrah ultimately came back to Los Angeles, where her condition rapidly declined. I questioned whether she would have lived longer or even been cured if she’d chosen a different treatment path after her recurrence. But we’ll never know. As I understand it, her chances of beating it were slim from the start.
When she was back in LA for what turned out to be the last six months of her life, I got to see Farrah and spend more time with her. She had been video-recording all her doctors’ appointments for a future documentary about her cancer fight. She believed that documenting her experience might help others. As she weakened, Ryan and our friend Alana Stewart took over the filming for her.
One evening, Farrah and Alana came over and they wanted to record my conversation with Farrah. I didn’t understand why it was necessary. “I don’t want to be filmed,” I said. I was emotional.
But Farrah insisted. “Film her.”
I didn’t get it then. But now, I see that those recordings—what ultimately became a documentary called Farrah’s Story—opened people’s eyes to the brutal truth of what she went through and showed her strength throughout the ordeal.
Farrah said to me, “You know what, I never thought I’d get this. Maybe heart disease, maybe breast cancer like you. Never this.” When she broke down and cried, I cried too.
She became increasingly tired and sick. I would visit her and bring her a Pinkberry frozen yogurt, which she loved. When she was in pain, I’d rub her feet.
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