Charlie Evans comes to my house 3 times a week to do physical therapy with me following my knee replacement surgery. She is knowledgable, skillful, even sensual in her approach. She has the ability to push me beyond my comfort zone.

Charlie is a black woman in her fifties who, for years, has worked at the Watts Clinic every morning with a severly underserved population..

She told me how lucky I am to have had a talented surgeon. She didn’t need to tell me, I already knew it. I am privileged. “The people I work with in Watts cannot afford such excellent surgery”, Charlie says. She told me she works with people who have far from adequate health care, who know very little about preventive health care or how to take care of themselves so as to avoid catastrophic situations like obesity and diabetes.

So here I am, living the discrepancy between haves and have nots when it comes to health care; talking and working with a woman, Charlie, who daily bridges the divide. She moves my knee, exhorts me to push through the pain, watches my rapid progress, the results of my top notch surgery and thinks about the people she has just left in Watts whose situation makes it less likely that they will see these kinds of results.

And yesterday I watched President Obama explaining and defending his health care reform effort and I pray he will get everything he is seeking. This have/have not divide MUST be done away with. I was so happy to hear on the news that the majority of Americans are willing to pay higher taxes so that everyone can get health insurance. So I ask those of you who follow my blog to do what you can to support the president in this effort. Write, call, email, fax your elected official asking them to get with the program. It is unconscionable that in a country like ours so many cannot get adequate health care.

See you next time.

A recent article in the Daily Mail reports that my knee replacement surgery was the result of years of repetitive pounding from doing my Jane Fonda Workout programs. Wrong! It is a result of osteoarthritis which my father, Henry Fonda, also suffered from, as does my brother, Peter, who may need hip replacement soon. You never saw them doing the Jane Fonda Workouts. My family’s osteoarthritis (the gradual disappearance of joint cartilage) is a matter of genes, not working out. I am sure that my 25 years of eating disorders didn’t help the condition, and perhaps my decade of running made it worse. But sooner or later I would have needed joint replacement even if I had been totally sedentary.

The fact is that my Workout programs were initially not aerobic at all. Only one of them, “The Workout Challenge,” had an aerobic component and because it was so challenging, not many people purchased it. When I actually got into producing aerobic videos they were of the low-impact variety and were supervised by sports physiologists. As for my exhortation to  ”Go for The Burn,” that came with strength building-working the particular muscle group long enough to feel the burn that results from the build up of lactic acid. This has nothing to do with aerobic activity which is where the “pounding” comes in.

Genes, my friends, are the culprits, not my workouts,

Charlie doing physical therapy with me. She worked with Angela Lansbury late last year when Dr Moreland did her knee replacement

Charlie bending my knee to 90 degrees.

My friends Vivian and Ruth sent me a knee Kap. Pretty cool, huh?

No question that it’s easier to feel “light” when you have the possibility of work, a secure roof overhead and other skills to fall back on: I can always become a life-coach; a make-over artist both with hair and makeup; I am a good landscape architect; I could teach exercise in a senior citizen center; I can write, and there are a few other unprintable skills I’ve picked up along the way. But as I am primarily an actor, I feel better now that I know I can do live theatre well into old age…though it doesn’t pay much. I’d have to cut a lot of folks loose. We must raise our daughters and granddaughters with job skills, Forget this “grow up and marry a man who will support you” BS.

I would be more frightened of crime if I weren’t so focused as an activist on reducing the causes of crime through reducing teen pregnancy and parenting. We can become our fears or we can become warriors to eliminate the causes of our fears. I’ve seen this all over the world.

I am quite amazed at how well my new knee is doing. Everyone told me that knees were much harder than hips. This hasn’t been my experience. One of the hardest things with hips is that you can’t lean over. Not so with knees. I am already able to put full weight on my knee and, while I to need to hold onto furniture or crutches for balance, I know I will soon move to a cane and then—nothing!! I have been able to already bend my knee 90 degrees. It hurts, yes, but since leaving the hospital yesterday, I’ve only taken a few Darvocet.

A friend of my brother’s went to the Santa Monica Homeopathic Pharmacy and brought me remedies which I have been taking for “Pain and Inflammation,” “Arnica Montana,” “Scar Formula,” and “Staphysagria,” also for scarring. I learned the non-harmful effectiveness of homeopathy years ago as a young, health-conscious mother.

I just finished writing a new blog for the Huffington Post about the Community-Based Doula Program that is part of my Georgia Campaign for Adolescent Pregnancy prevention. It will go up early next week. Having done that this morning makes me feel better. Lighter.

While I was on Broadway, a lot of the people around me-actors, hair and wig stylists, wardrobe people, crew members-talked about Patti LuPone…how she would stop a show if a cell phone rang in the audience; how she would not tolerate laziness, lack of focus and commitment backstage; really rip someone if they evidenced any of the above. From time to time, I found myself muttering, “Patti would love him,” or “Patti wouldn’t put up with him for a blue minute.” One night a cell phone rang in the audience. It was during my one scene with Beethoven. For a second, Zach and I just looked at each other. We were both livid, thrown totally out of the scene. I thought about what Patti would do but I didn’t have the ovaries to do it-to stop the show. I confess that I have never seen Patti LuPone perform and I now realize I have missed an important experience. The same people who talked about her toughness with less-than-professional colleagues also said that when she was on-stage, every night she gave 500% of herself. I just said that to her in an email and she just wrote back, “How can one give any less when one has so much to give?  That’s how I feel. And frankly, it’s so much easier to let it out than old it back, don’t you think? I find it exhausting to mark. Get back on stage! ”

Anyway, when I was nominated for a Tony, out of the blue I got a vase of flowers and a wonderful card from Patti LuPone. I was blown away. I found out she was on the road touring. Then somehow we got each other’s emails and the communication started. Wow! I am emailing Patti Lupone! Then I found out her show is coming to the Ahmanson in L.A. And she has invited me and agreed to have dinner afterwards. I’m psyched. There is so much I want to talk to her about. She’s in Vegas right now.

I could keep going with this blogging but I must stop. I have committed myself to finishing two new chapters of my book before I leave L.A. in a month and if blogging inhibits this from happening I will have to stop the blogging.

Here are some more photos from my Galapagos Trip that Cheryl Dixon sent me.

See you next time.

Leaving St. John’s today!! Hooray!!!

I am so happy to be going home. You know when it’s time. The antsiness, feeling the push to get on with things. Dr Moreland and all the nurses have been wonderful but I’d had enough bed pans and being wakened at 3am to have my vital signs taken–especially when I knew my vitals were full of vitality.

I’ve been thinking about my history with St John’s Hospital in Santa Monica: I had my tonsils out there when I was 6 years old. My maternal grandmother, Sophie Seymour, died there at 95 years old. It was the perfect way to go. She looked up at me and said, “I’m tired and I’m ready.” She’d had a hard life, losing both her daughters too soon (it’s always too soon if the child dies before the parent). Later, Gene Hayden, my mother-in-law, died in St. John’s. 3 years ago Dr Moreland replaced my hip there. Yep, I’ve had history with that hospital. Several of the Catholic sisters came to say hello and goodbye. One, in particular, was very funny. She said she liked my politics, what I stand for, so she’d forgive me for being skinny.

When he came to say goodbye this morning, Dr Moreland said that I seemed different, lighter, than when he’d done my hip.  I feel that way but didn’t think it was apparent to someone who doesn’t know we well. Lighter, to me, means happier, carrying less of a burden. Some of this has to do with feeling more confidence that I can find work. The possibility of doing theatre has opened up for me now and theatre offers more interesting possibilities for an older actor.

Some of the lightness has to do with love. I feel much more surrounded by love than I did three years ago. I don’t know which comes first, the lightness or the love. Maybe it has to do with age, too. It’s very common for older people to feel more positive about things. They see commonalities more than differences. I do. They don’t sweat the small stuff.

That’s about all the abstract musings I can muster on this day of going home.

See you next time.

Tulea with Carole on plane en route to
Los Angeles awaiting our reunion.

My knee was replaced Tuesday morning and it’s now Thursday morning and it’s been pretty smooth going. I started physical therapy yesterday and there was a lot of pain after that but they shot some morphine into the IV and that took care of it. The worst part of it all is how the pain meds make me itch. They give me something for this but it doesn’t seem to work. Guess I’m unusually sensitive to narcotics. I’d make a lousy druggy.

The nurse took the wrappings off just now and I saw the knee with the long line of staples. Oh well. It’ll be fine. The staples will come out and the scar will fade some and the swelling will subside and I’ll be stronger than ever. As you can imagine, I will be a regular soldier about doing the rehab. Everyone says that you must follow the procedures faithfully so the knee doesn’t get stiff. I have too much I have to still do to allow myself to get stiff. Fortunately I went into this quite strong and flexible and that makes it easier.

Another fortunate thing is that I had a spinal rather than general anesthetic. What a difference that makes. I was clear-headed almost from the get-go except for the pain meds. I was given a cocktail of pain pills and relaxants before they did the spinal injection and I don’t even remember them doing it. It didn’t hurt that the anesthesiologist was a pretty woman with a great wit. Always try to go out laughing.

Here’s the best part of it though: All my friends sending me good wishes and prayers. My new blogger and twitter friends as well. Feeling surrounded by love is such a blessing it makes me cry with happiness. I feel so lucky to have such loving, generous friends. As I’ve said before, when you get older you realize more than ever the value of friendship and you learn to be intentional about acknowledging and protecting it.

Another good thing is that, for the first time in quite a while, I am motivated to start writing my book again. This is the book about aging that Random House asked me to do. I’m calling it “The Third Act: Entering Prime Time,” Performing the play eight times a week absorbed all my creative juices and then, when that ended 3 weeks ago, there’s been so much pain (and so little time). I like the feeling of being drawn back into it. I have nine chapters already done and about 9 more to go, although who knows, the book, much more than my memoirs, seems to have a life of its own and chapters appear that I didn’t initially think of. I honestly don’t know if that’s good or bad but it’s interesting to me. I’d gotten blocked with the chapter about sex but help is on the way. Or maybe that’s just the meds kicking in.

My last night in hospital, reunited with Tulea.

See you next time.

It’s 1:30am. I’m still on Paris time and a little wired about today’s surgery. I go in at 8am



I’ve been studying my knee–the left one. It’s never been my favorite part of me, partial as I am to the boney variety– elongated, skin close to the bone. Like my dad’s. Picture Christ’s knees in El Greco’s painting of the crucifixion. It’s at the Frick Museum in New York, I think. At least that’s where I first saw it.



Still, I am growing fond of this left knee now that I have to say goodbye. It’s been a strong, faithful knee. It’s gotten me up a lot of steep mountains and across rugged terrain. For years I ran on it and skied. I am remembering the girlhood scabs from falls off my bike. The splinters and bruises. The kisses too. Vadim liked to kiss my knees. (He was French).



Hip replacement scars are off to the side and you don’t notice. Knee replacement scars are right there in front–a long dark line straight down the middle that inevitably leaves the knee somewhat misshapen. Liza Minnelli showed me hers back stage at the Tonys when she was demonstrating for me how to walk so the pain wouldn’t show. Bless her heart.



No more short skirts–but then I never wore them much anyway.



I saw the doc yesterday–straight from the airport. He took X-rays. Yup, need a new one for sure. I’m no hypochondriac.



He neatly printed his initials–J.R.M.–even including the periods and a big arrow pointing to the knee cap (very undoctorly. Usually you can’t read their writing but I guess that’s just for prescriptions. Don’t want to get a replacement wrong). He said, “Imagine if it got out that I replaced Jane Fonda’s wrong knee. Forget the career.” You betcha!



So before lunchtime today this faithful old knee joint will be sawed out and in its place will go a titanium rod and ceramic joint. I like to think it’ll be a floral pattern, the kind the Royals might use for tea.



I’m told this procedure is more complicated than the hip and that you never get full range of motion back. 80 percent maybe. Wanna bet? I have those Himalayan hills to trek in a year and a half and who know what other parts of mine will be replaced between now and then. The doc said my other hip isn’t exactly normal either.

I remember during my (brief) stint at Vassar, in philosophy class, debating whether Noah’s Ark would still be Noah’s Ark even if, over the years, every single plank, every piece of wood and screw had been replaced. It seemed a challenging question at the time. Now? A no-brainer. Of course it would still be the Ark just as I will still be me if all my parts are replaced. It has to do with essence. The sum is greater than its parts. I just feel lucky that I live at a time when parts can be replaced. If I was my grandmother I’d be chair-bound and in constant pain.



Instead, by this time next year, I will have come out with a whole new line of workout products for maintaining muscle mass and flexibility and I will be doing them myself. 80 percent my ass!



So I will take one last look at my left knee. I just lifted it up and gave it a goodbye kiss. And as I did, I noticed it’s pretty boney, after all.