Chapter 17 home away from home

A week later, we took my mother back to “home”—her best friend Connie Walder’s house, where she stayed whenever she was in Los Angeles. My mother met Connie when she first came to Los Angeles, right after she finished filming Roman Holiday.Connie later married Jerry Wald, a prolific and creative filmmaker.Connie and her mother were lifelong friends, we often went to Connie's house for dinner, it was like a family, and they always fought each other to do the dishes after dinner.Connie called her mother "Ruby," the name of a maid in the hit TV show "Upstairs and Downstairs" at the time, a rather authoritarian and brutal character.Mother justified this by saying that, as a guest, she should at least have the right to do the dishes.They always cook together, make fun of each other loudly, and love each other deeply like relatives. For the mother, this is another home besides her own.This time, going home has a different meaning to my mother. In the days under the shadow of death, being able to drink chicken soup made by your friends not only gives you the best care for your body, but also your soul. A haven of rare relaxation and calm.

Then my mother started to receive chemotherapy for the first time. Everything seemed to be going well without any side effects. We all thought that my mother would be able to receive the second chemotherapy one week later, but this was not the case.A few days later her ileum was obstructed again, this time the pain was so severe that even painkillers didn't help.During the day, we accompanied my mother to take careful walks by the swimming pool, and at night we sat around her bed and watched TV with her, sometimes it was a light-hearted soap opera, and sometimes it was a documentary on the Science Discovery Channel.My mother says she likes these two types of TV the most because documentaries convince her that the natural wonders do exist, while soap operas remind her that no matter what happens, life is always full of joy.

After chemotherapy, the doctors informed us that they wanted my mother to return to the hospital as soon as possible. December 1, 1992, was the heaviest day of my life.We are going to take the mother back to the hospital for better treatment.Everyone was busy, preparing what they could, which gave my mother and I time to spend alone in her room for a while.I helped her get dressed. She was so thin that the clothes almost covered her.My mother turned to look at me with tears in her eyes and hugged me so hard I could hear her sobbing.My mother whispered in my ear: "Sean, I'm very scared." I just stood there, holding her in my arms with all my strength, but my heart felt powerless.

I reassured her that everything will be alright, no big deal, I will always be with her through these difficulties, and I also promised that if things really come to an end, I will tell her the first time.I wasn't desperate, I just wanted to help her find courage.As far as I can remember, this was the only time my mother showed her fears in such a real way in front of me.When I was a child, I used to discuss life and death with my mother.My mother is always very calm, so when she only has a slight change in her heart and hasn't shown it yet, I can feel it.As a pair of good friends and mother and son, the spiritual umbilical cord has always connected us.Some people say that parents and children will switch roles at a certain moment, that is, children will sometimes play the role of parents. I think my moment has arrived.

We all know that the situation is not optimistic, but the unwillingness of my mother and me to admit defeat makes us look forward bravely, full of hope, and firmly believe in miracles, just like a pair of innocent children with good hearts. I drove her to the hospital in a white Buick convertible from 1973, and the paparazzi had been waiting at the door for days.Paparazzi have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.Whether we were eating out or going on a weekend outing, whether it was our mother picking us up from school or taking us shopping, the paparazzi followed us, especially in Rome.I still remember one time when I went to a weekend lunch meeting in my stepfather’s car, and my stepfather drove the car like flying from the moment I left the house. The scenery, the heart beating wildly, the galloping speed and the uninvited guests made me feel like I came to the racing track.I will never forget the time when my mother took me to a medieval town in Tuscany to attend a ballet festival held there.I had just finished my first film job, which lasted almost a full year, and I grew a beard so that no one would see that I was 18.The paparazzi spotted us and chased us all night to take pictures.The next day, the photo made it to the paper, with the caption: Audrey Hepburn and the newest love of her life.My mother and I both laughed when we saw the newspaper, but the paparazzi didn't see who I was.My mother joked: "If you remove the word 'latest', their report this time is not wrong."

After this incident, the mother began to worry that the frequent appearance of paparazzi would affect her and the whole family's private life.Mother also knew that she couldn't be too kind to these reporters, but she also felt that it was all because of her initial choice, and the responsibility lay with herself.So you never see my mother roughing up these journalists, but my mother always remains polite and graceful in front of them. Ever since my mother fell ill, those irresponsible media have always made baseless nonsense about how dying my mother is, there is no possibility of recovery and so on.These made us, including my mother, very angry. How did the paparazzi know about things that her closest relatives didn't know?Fortunately, we succeeded this time.The reason why I chose to take my mother to the hospital in my car was because we were sure that no one would believe that Audrey Hepburn would go to the hospital in such an old and dilapidated classic car.Our adventure was successful, with my mother lying in the back of the car, and the paparazzi only saw me and my wife in the car, and they watched us drive up the road to the hospital without anyone following us.

Mother was wheeled into the operating room, and we waited again.Less than an hour after the operation started, the doctor called us into the operation preparation room next to the operation room.He told us that the cancer cells multiplied very fast, and now he is powerless, the operation cannot be performed, and he can only suture his mother's incision.He told us to prepare ourselves that Mother didn't have much time.When those words came out of the doctor's mouth, it felt like time stopped.Robert muttered involuntarily, "What a wonderful person." I can feel the twitching inside, but now is not the time to be sad, my mother should have woken up from the anesthesia.I took a deep breath and pushed open the door of the special ward.She looked very calm. My mother was never afraid of death. She just didn't want to suffer unnecessary pain. We had an agreement that we would choose euthanasia when necessary. I always believed that pain can be controlled.I sat on the edge of her hospital bed and she looked at me, smiled, and told me some crazy women just came by and they shook their mother up and asked her if she had voted in the presidential election when Clinton was the new One-term President of the United States.The mother told the women that she was not a U.S. citizen and had no right to vote.Later, a doctor lecturer came with his students. They woke up the mother, and a group of young future doctors pointed at the incision of the mother.

For the mother, the hospital is no longer a place where she can recuperate with peace of mind, and she can't even give her peace.After listening to my mother's story, I felt my blood rush to my throat, but I knew it was not the time to be angry. After calming down, I told my mother everything the doctor had told us.After hearing the news, my mother seemed very calm, and just said: "It's a bit disappointing!" I held her hand, and for the first time I felt that my strength was so small. In a sense, that day was the day my mother died.We sat together in that special ward peacefully, holding hands, neither of us spoke, but we had the same question in mind.

Perhaps the best help modern medicine can provide is: early detection and early diagnosis.This gives us an opportunity to fully enjoy the time God has given us instead of the sudden shock and grief of learning that a loved one has passed away. Everyone's emotions fell to the lowest point, and the next two months were painful and happy at the same time.We do not wait for anything, nor do we have any doubts or anguish.All we do is show the love we have for each other, and every day seems so precious, and we give it all, maybe knowing that any one day could be the last. Our family doctor in Switzerland used to say: "If you live happily, you will die peacefully." Mother did both.

We returned to Connie's house, and a few weeks later Hubert Givenchy, another dear friend of my mother's, delivered a precious gift: He arranged for his own private jet to take us back home to Switzerland.My mother didn't like to show off all her life. This kind of high-profile lifestyle has never happened to us. In fact, my mother is fully capable of buying a private jet, but she has never moved such an idea.Regardless, we were excited about this flight because it solved one of our big problems.We had been wanting to go back home to Switzerland for Christmas after my mother was discharged from the hospital, but it was a headache to travel intercontinentally with a seriously ill patient.When I told my mother about Hubert's advice, her eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude.She urged me to call Hubert, and I dialed and handed the receiver to my mother, who was so excited that she could barely speak, but kept saying in French: "Hubert, I'm so touched .”

After hanging up the phone, my mother was as excited as a child, maybe it was Hubert's words that made her unbelievable. "He told me that in his life I meant everything." I believe the feeling was mutual.