Book Excerpt: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Suffered Health Woes More than We Knew — 'She Didn't Like Expressing Weakness'

Mar. 15, 2025

Ruth Bader Ginsburg at dinner in 2020 with (rear) Nina Totenberg and her husband Dr. David Reines, and daughter Jane Ginsburg.Photo: Courtesy Nina Totenberg

That friend was Supreme Court JusticeRuth Bader Ginsburg, whodied of pancreatic cancer in 2020at age 87.

“Ruth always had the right words. I put on her necklace and it helps get me out of my stupidness,” Totenberg, 78, tells PEOPLE with a laugh.

The journalist’s tender memoir of friendship with Ginsburg and other boldface-name Washingtonians like her fellow justice,Antonin Scalia, and the lateCokie Robertsof ABC News,Dinners With Ruth(excerpted below), reveals an RBG more vulnerable — and in chronic pain, from untreated shingles and years of aggressive cancer treatment — than she let on.

“She was generous with friendship but didn’t like expressing weakness,” Totenberg says of the 5-foot-1-inch giant of women’s rights. “She was a darling, darling woman. I often think about her — and how much I miss her.”

Courtesy Nina Totenberg

First connecting as reporter and source — “Ruth was one of my first translators of the finer points of law,” Totenberg writes — the pair bonded over shopping together and being women “with our noses pressed against the glass” of male-dominated fields.

When she went [out], she wore mandarin silk jackets and flowing designer pants. It was the exact opposite of what professional women were advised to do — namely not to call attention to themselves. For that era, it was quite rebellious to dress as she did.

Totenberg (left) and Ginsburg at her family birthday party in 1995.Courtesy Nina Totenberg

Ginsburg and her husband Marty became regulars for dinner at Totenberg’s home with her husband, Dr. David Reines, a trauma surgeon. After Ginsburg joined the Supreme Court in 1993, her hosts established boundaries.

We were always very firm with guests; nothing about cases before the Court. Once we did have a dinner guest start to ask Ruth about a case pending, and David and I jumped in: “That’s against the house rules.”

Ruth did not believe in small talk; she spoke only when she had something to say — although she loved good gossip, and she knew plenty. She didn’t break confidences on her own Court, but if there was something happening on a lower circuit court, such as a big fight between two judges, she would say, in almost a whisper, “I hear they’re at each other’s throats.”

Having already survived colon cancer, Ginsburg had “major, painful” surgery for pancreatic cancer in 2009. David became her medical confidant.

Ruth forced herself to sit up and began working on a speech. As for the pain, she just worked through it. Marty and their daughter Jane determined that Ruth would beat the disease. They found a study of some 300 people in a Scandinavian country where chemo helped prevent recurrences. Marty brought it to David, who told him the chemo course was incredibly potent and more likely to be fatal than the disease. Ruth had one treatment, but she was physically too petite to tolerate it. As David described it, “She was sicker than hell,” and she vetoed having any more.

Our house became her only refuge outside her apartment. Every Saturday, almost without fail, she came for dinner. We always pre-tested for COVID.

With her various health issues, she couldn’t have butter, fats, sugar or meat. David prepared a medley of fish dishes, but Ruth’s favorite was bouillabaisse. No matter how weak she might feel, she never came to dinner looking frumpy. She would wear long, flowing trousers, an elegant blouse with a large, warm shawl and jewelry that ranged in style between Santa Fe and New York. The one thing that never varied was the scrunchie in her hair.

After a brief hospitalization, Ginsburg was homethat Sept. 11.

We brought her dinner that weekend. She said, “I thought I was going to die. But I came home.” Then, in her soft, resolute voice, she added, “And I’m not going to die.” She was sitting at the table in a beautiful bathrobe, a blue pattern on white. We brought David’s bouillabaisse, and she kept falling asleep, still holding her fork in her hand. Jane would try to take the fork, and Ruth would say, “No, I want to finish my bouillabaisse.” Finally I said to her, “Ruth, you’re too tired. We’ll save your bouillabaisse. You can have it tomorrow. Go to bed.” Then David walked her upstairs.

That was the last time I saw her.

source: people.com