Right now one of my best friend’s married one of my doctors, the only doctor that is advocating for me within the bureacracy of the hospital system I find myself now mired in.

The doctor has, to date, been able to give a fair and balanced accounting of what has happened and what steps we need to pursue.  Without someone with a strong understanding of the inner-workings of this hospital system, my chances to get into a controversial program for liver transplant would be non-existent.

My primary care physician for the past 16 years has been a remarkable woman who bucks the system.  She is known around the globe and speaks at various international conferences and oddly, she believes in the patient first, unlike many other doctors who are slaves to the system.  Is she a friend?  Not in the most strict sense of the word.  But she is a trusted ally, someone I have shared laughter, heartache and tears with, who has always been there to advocate for me.

That is the exception, of which I am gratefully aware. 

When the news about Natasha came through, I was in the hospital, just out of surgery to place a shunt in my liver (I was diagnosed with Stage II Hepatocellular Carcinoma ‘round about the time when Marlo and I worked on a show written and directed by Elaine May).

It was so surreal… the combination of opiates to alleviate my post-surgery pain, the hospital setting I was in and the news of this vibrant, dynamic woman, skiing one moment and gone the next.

I am two years past the original prognosis for the liver cancer, one year past a squamous cell carcinoma prognosis, and it makes me take pause and wonder why I am still here, in spite of the odds and others, like Natasha, are senselessly removed.

Everyday, I tell my partner and my dear friends that I love them.  Each day may be the last, and none of us knows when that day may arrive. 

Since the procedure to place the shunt, I had a bizarre bacterial infection take over my blood (sepsis) and experienced first-person a "white-light" moment (although, as a theatrical professional, I would have used different lighting techniques than what I experienced!). 

My partner Michael waited until after I was out of the hospital to tell me that the doctors said I had about a 70% chance of not making it through.

Finally, I want to share a couple of stories that showed me the power of knowing you are loved.  In 1995, my partner at the time was nearing the end of his life.  In a room a few doors down from him at the hospital was a young man who had been without the ability to speak for some time and he was not expected to make it through the week.

The hospital phoned his mother in the South, and she flew out.  I would spend time with her in this one room where family could gather to meet other families, unwind and share their stories.  She kept telling me "I tell him that I love him, so he’ll know and can let go, but he keeps holding on."

I told her "he knows that you love him… but right now, he can’t speak, and he needs you to let him know that he loves you very much.  When you go back to the room, tell him that you know how much he loves you."

She did.  And within moments, he let go and slipped away to the other side. He could leave this world comfortable in the knowledge that his mother knew just how much he loved her.

My partner, Jayson, could not leave when I was in the room with him.  Every time I’d come through the door, even after he lost the ability to speak, his whole body would animate and he’d fight to be present with me.  The nurses pulled me aside and told me "he won’t leave with you here… he keeps fighting to stay alive to be with you… you need to go home."  I kissed him on the forehead, whispered in his ear how much I loved him and how much his love meant to me, and I told him if he needed to leave while I was away, that was okay.

Two hours after I was at home, the phone rang.  I knew.  A friend of mine was taking care of me and she answered the phone, came in and told me, and I went into a very deep sleep.  He was free.

Thank you for sharing your sentiment, Marlo. I hope that all who have read it can put it to practice and let their dear ones know how much they are loved.

Having worked with Marlo, it’s clear that her discipline, personality and talent are the driving force behind her success.  While she may have the connections to get through the door, that is not what keeps her there and why people continue to want to work with her.  If anything, the child of a celebrity has to prove themselves even more so, so as to avoid the undercutting of their talent with the simple dismissal of "she only got the job because…".  Above all else, Marlo reminds me of a saying my dear friend and colleague George Furth would frequently share with me: "It’s not enough to have talent, you have to have a talent for having talent."  Marlo has that and so much more.