Diane Keaton, the celebrated actress who passed away at 79, curated a life of professional acclaim and personal privacy. While her family confirmed her death in California, the full extent of her health struggles in her final months remained undisclosed. However, Keaton herself had previously broken her silence on two significant, decades-long battles that shaped her life: a recurring fight with skin cancer and a severe eating disorder.
Her iconic hats were not merely a fashion statement but a shield. This signature style choice began after a sobering diagnosis of skin cancer when she was just 21 years old. She later explained the genetic component of the disease, citing a painful family history. “I remember my Auntie Martha had skin cancer so bad they removed her nose,” she once recalled, noting that both her father and brother also suffered from it. This history underscored her later advocacy for sun protection.
Keaton candidly admitted her youthful indifference to skincare, a decision she came to regret deeply. “Back in my 20s I didn’t pay attention much,” she stated, calling her lack of care “stupid.” The consequences followed her throughout her adult life, with an initial diagnosis of basal cell carcinoma in her 20s later followed by squamous cell cancer, which necessitated two separate surgeries to treat.
Parallel to her skin health issues, Keaton fought a harrowing battle with bulimia. The disorder began after a casting director for a Broadway role suggested she lose ten pounds. This triggered a destructive cycle she later described as an addiction. She confessed to being an “addict in recovery,” consuming an astounding 20,000 calories daily in binges that included buckets of chicken, multiple TV dinners, and entire cakes.
Ultimately, Keaton sought professional help for her eating disorder, attending therapy five days a week. Her journey toward healing allowed her to embrace motherhood in her 50s, adopting her daughter Dexter and son Duke. She chose to speak openly about her past, not for relevance, but as an act of solidarity. “I think I’m a sister to all the rest of the women… who have had some kind of eating disorder,” she wrote, cementing a legacy of honesty and resilience.