Now Magazine article (‘01)

[from Now Magazine, 3/01]

He once called her a rock he could "cling to" in times of trouble - and Matthew Perry has known plenty of those. When lovers walked out, when movies flopped at the box office, when addiction brought him to the brink of despair, he knew there was one person he could torn to for advice and wisdom.
And this time was no different. Complaining: "I feel like a zombie," the 31-year-old star placed a middle-of-the-night call to his devoted mum Suzanne Morrison's home to deliver the news that he had another problem.
An old demon, addiction, had returned to haunt him and the GBP 500,000-a-week Friends actor was pondering whether it was worth going back for another round of rehab. "It didn't matter that it was 4am," ex-TV newsreader Suzanne says. "It was a cry for help. My heart bled for him.
"Matthew has come a long, long way in life, but he knows I'll always be here for him. If there's a problem that still needs work, it's better to be in the hands of those expertly qualified to take care of it. I told him it was the only way to go - and any mum would have done the same."
Three hours later, with his mother's words ringing in his ears, Matthew, who's recently been filming Servicing Sara with Liz Hurley, rolled up at Malibu's Promises clinic. It's four years since his last spell in rehab. His family hopes it will be the last.
"Matthew has every intention of completing his treatment so he can continue his dream of entertaining people and making them laugh," said his publicist last week.
"Matthew's a fighter," adds Suzanne, who also once worked as press secretary to former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. "He never shrank from a challenge as a kid and he's not going to now. It's going to be one tough road, but he's up for it. I've told him, and he accepts, it doesn't really matter what you have - career, fame, fortune - if you haven't got your health."
Throughout his enormous success as the wisecracking Chandler Bing in Friends, a history of medical problems, erratic weight swings and a self-confessed penchant for "partying" have battered Matthew's health.
"Matthew will joke that it's not easy to stagger from one crisis to the next, but somehow he's managed it," says family friend producer Pete Farrantino.
"Any addiction's not easy to cope with. A bout of pancreatitis almost saw him off. He dropped 30lb and was looking really skinny. Matt didn't have the strength to pick up the TV remote. He spent a month living off tins of chicken soup.
"But the humour didn't desert him. One night Matt sat in his kitchen, dipping rolls into the soup and, as he looked up, he cracked:' I'd better watch out - I'll become addicted to this stuff.'"
Four years ago, Matthew heeded his mum's advice to enter a 12-step programme at Hazelden clinic in Minneapolis. He diligently completed a 30-day stay to wean himself off the painkiller and popular US appetite suppressant Vicodin.
But not long after his release, Matthew's weight plunged 30lb to 140lb, sparking rumours that he was suffering from an eating disorder. On this occasion he appeared on TV and blamed exhaustion from combining his Friends schedule with the demands of his two movies. Once again, his mother stepped in.
Inviting Matthew for a month's stay at her home in Laguna Beach, California; Suzanne fed him up on home cooking and made sure he got plenty of rest. "She told him flatly: 'Come on, get a grip, the party days are over,'" says Pete Farrantino.
In a 1998 TV interview, Matthew confirmed: "I'd not eaten that well in years. Well, not since I was a kid. People were talking pot shots when I lost all the weight, but then I packed on some beef and it's like: 'What's up with Mr. Blimp?' So what's a guy to do?"
But when Matthew returned to his new GBP 1.4 million Hollywood Hills home, friends say he went to the other extreme. "Matt went from warm family life to cold no-life," says Pat Meredith, a friend and ex-classmate of the actor at LA's private Buckley School.
Stunned guests reported that the house "stank" of stale cigarettes as Matt reverted to a two-pack-a-day habit. "It was a backlash," says Pat. "The rehab had drained him. Suddenly, the pills and booze were gone, the spark was gone. He had to have something. The ciggies were his crutch.
"It sounds harsh, but maybe that's why he's had reservations about rehab this time. Matt got through it once, but the aftermath, the emptiness did him in."
Matthew confided to friends that he felt trapped in a tailspin of depression. His movies Fools Rush In and Almost Heroes failed to set the box office alight. Even The Whole Nine Yards, in which he starred with friend Bruce Willis, fizzled out after a bright start.
And his love life fizzled with it. His on-off romance with TV executive Jamie Tarses came to an end and then actress Renee Ashton walked out. She was said to be less then impressed when, excitedly expecting an engagement ring one Christmas, Matthew served up a tennis racquet.
Ten months ago, he checked into Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre in LA, for what was described as "severs stomach cramps". Matthew later admitted that he'd been suffering from acute pancreatitis, a rare inflammation that can be sparked by alcohol abuse and prescription drugs.
"In my case, it was hard living and drinking hard and eating poorly," Matthew said at the time. "You play, you pay."
Now Matthew has to pick up the pieces again at Promises clinic, which boasts its own gourmet chef and has suites overlooking the sparkling Pacific.
"Matthew has to do it this time around," says friend Pat. "He's made a solemn promise - to his mum."

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