Warning: Jenny… Do not read this blog.
I have to take a brief pause today from our cooking marathon
to brag. No, Gracie did not volunteer at a homeless shelter on Christmas. She
was too busy reading Chelsea Handler’s latest novel. No, David did not win the
Nobel Peace Prize. He was too busy screaming. No, my weekend caregiver did not
learn how to do my makeup. She was busy still trying to learn how to make
toast. No, I did not find a cure for ALS. I was too busy watching Vanderpump
Rules. I wanted to brag about someone else today.
I received a ton of emails last night from readers asking me
about my friend. Now, in life, you have friends and then you have friends. You know what I’m talking
about. There are the friends who accept your invitation to a dinner party and
then there are friends who accept your invitation to meet you in the recovery
room after surgery.… Elective or nonelective :-). My friend, who you guys have
asked about, is both. She is the girl that shows up during the sunshine and the
thunderstorm. I am talking about my friend Yolanda. But we never really call
her Yolanda. No, we mostly call her Yo, Yo-Yo or Yogi Bear. You might know her
as one of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Now, you know my obsession with
reality TV… The Housewives in particular. When Yogi told me that she was going
to be on the Housewives of Beverly Hills, I shamefully was so fucking stoked.
Shameful because it’s rude to be a voyeur in the lives of others. Fucking
stoked because I love being a voyeur in the lives of others. Interestingly
though, since Yolanda has been on the show for the past three seasons, I think
we’ve discussed it maybe two times. We have other stuff to talk about…
What other stuff do we have to talk about? It turns out that
Yogi and I are both sick. Very very sick. I have ALS and Yogi has Lyme disease.
The first friend I called when I was diagnosed with ALS was Yolanda. I called
my other best friend Jenny after because I was too scared to call her. I knew
my news would kill her. But, I knew that Yolanda would be strong… Strong for
me. That’s who Yolanda is. Strong. Dutch strong. Of all the experiences that
Yolanda and I have been through for the past 12 years, they were just training
wheels for what was to come. People close to Yolanda have a saying… We say,
“What Would Yolanda Do?” Yolanda always has the answers whether it be about
boyfriends, husbands, health, decorating, children… Everything. She just always
does everything right. I was like a spaz running around Santa Barbara and
Yolanda was the rock. Yolanda and I had coffee Monday through Friday for four
years straight at Starbucks in Santa Barbara after we dropped off our children
at elementary school. Then we would have our favorite lunch together (goat
cheese salad). Then, sometimes we would have dinner together at her house with
all the children (chicken and pesto pasta). We spent hours every day solving
the world’s problems… Well, mostly Yolanda solving the world’s problems… I was
busy smoking cigarettes. We have been thick as thieves ever since.
Yolanda is like the big sister. She’s more mature, you want
all of her clothes, she makes better decisions, you don’t always agree with
her, she’s there for every holiday, she will defend your honor, she knows
what’s best for you and in a crisis… She is there. Just like a sister. When I
had my diaphragm pacing surgery, I was in the recovery room near dead with a
collapsed lung and Yolanda comes running through the door to be by my side. The
next thing she did was open her purse, took out her makeup bag and did my
makeup. She wasn’t going to let me die ugly. That’s what you call a friend.
After I got sick, Yolanda and I would talk all the time and
she would always ask how I was. I would tell her everything. I’m sad, I’m
scared, I’m frustrated, I’m getting weaker, I can’t move my legs, I just took
four oxycodone, I just fell on the bathroom floor and smashed my face, etc.… I
told her the truth. When I would ask how she was she would always say, “I’m
great.” But, as the months rolled by I could tell a change in her voice. I
would still ask her how she was and she would still say that she was great. She
never complained about anything in her life because she knew that whatever she
told me was nothing compared to what I was going through… Until… Until she got
sick. I didn’t even know that Yolanda was sick because she never told me. Yogi
sat in bed month after month staring at the ceiling while Lyme disease was
ravishing her brain. I had no idea because she didn’t tell me. She didn’t want
to burden me. But now that I know she is sick and I am okay with it, it’s all
we ever talk about. We decided we are going to get through this together. We
talk about juicing, the value of tumeric, how hard it is to find kale in Paris,
stem cells, blood brain barriers, mitochondrial supplements, flaxseed,
hyperbaric chambers, oxygen therapy and anything else regarding our diseases.
After that, we talk about our children. After that, we talk about our Davids.
After that, we laugh. We always laugh and say, “WTF. How can we go from two
healthy Santa Barbara girls, raising our children, loving our Davids, excited
for the future to two Santa Barbara girls sick as dogs unable to get out of
bed. As usual, Yolanda has all the answers. She knows that it is her mission
and responsibility to find a cure for Lyme disease. All of you Lyme sufferers
are lucky to have her on your team because she will not stop until she finds a
cure. It never once crossed my mind to find a cure for ALS. I am only now
realizing from all of you that maybe, just maybe, I could help other people
with or without ALS through my blog by inspiring all of you to live the day
with eyes wide open and to the fullest. Yolanda knew the purpose of her disease
from the get-go.
I am saving all the good stuff about Yogi for my book but I
thought I would tell you the most important part. You know how in your worst
nightmares the thought crosses your mind of who would take care of your child
if you passed away. You know you’ve all thought of it. For me, it is a reality.
I actually really had to think… Who will take care of Gracie? Who will take
care of Gracie like their own child? Who will nurture Gracie? Who will guide
Gracie? Who will steer Gracie straight if she gets out of line? Who will make
sure that Gracie will have a successful life and make the right choices? Who
will hug her? Who will be the shoulder that Gracie cries on? Who will continue
to raise Gracie with ethics and morals? Who will tell Gracie how much I loved
her? Who will tell Gracie how wonderful her mother was? Who will replace me? That
person is Yogi. This is not an easy question to ask of someone. Yolanda did not
hesitate and said that she would of course take care of my Gracie as her own. I
believe her. So, knowing how much I love Gracie and knowing how judgmental I
am, now you can see the kind of respect I have for Yolanda. This is the person
I chose to take care my daughter with all of the love that I would. So you see,
even though I have ALS, I am lucky because I have Yogi.
I received a bunch of emails last night from blog readers
asking me about Yolanda because of last night’s episode of The Real Housewives
of Beverly Hills. If you haven’t seen it, check it out ASAP because you will
see the reality of reality television. My Yogi Bear.
*Something you don’t know about me? Yolanda and my other
best friend, Jenny, are both my best
friends but they are not exactly in love with each other. I think they actually
hate each other. I think it’s funny. So, out of fairness, tomorrow’s blog will
be all about my Jenny. You are in for a treat. After that, we will learn how to
master carrot cake.
