Dustin Hoffman, who famously dressed in drag for *Tootsie* 30 years ago, used his acting skills to keep a serious secret: a battle with cancer that almost took his life.
In 2013, the *Rain Man* actor, then 75, revealed that he had quietly undergone treatment for throat cancer, which was “surgically cured.” After that, he never spoke about it publicly again. Here’s more about the Oscar-winning actor’s journey with cancer.
In 1967, at 30 years old, Dustin Hoffman had his breakthrough role in the romantic comedy *The Graduate*, which earned him his first Oscar nomination.
Over the years, Hoffman starred in iconic films like *All the President’s Men* (1976) and *Kramer vs. Kramer* (1979), which won him an Academy Award for Best Actor.
In 1983, Hoffman played a washed-up actor who dresses as a woman to get a role on a soap opera in the movie *Tootsie*, showcasing his incredible versatility.
\In the hit film *Tootsie*, Dustin Hoffman’s character was called a “nottie” instead of a “hottie,” which brought him to tears, he shared.
“If I were going to be a woman, I’d want to be as beautiful as possible. But they told me, ‘That’s as good as it gets,’” Hoffman recalled in an interview.
When he realized he wasn’t considered attractive as a woman, the now 86-year-old actor had a life-changing realization about how society views women.
“I went home and started crying,” Hoffman says. “I thought, ‘I’m an interesting woman,’ but I knew if I met that version of myself at a party, I wouldn’t talk to her because she didn’t meet the physical standards we’re taught women need to have for us to approach them.”
Even though *Tootsie* was the second-highest-grossing film of the year—just behind *E.T. The Extraterrestrial*—Dustin Hoffman didn’t find it funny.
“That was never a comedy for me,” he added.
Despite his feelings about the film, Hoffman became one of the most sought-after actors in Hollywood.
He earned his second Oscar for the 1988 film *Rain Man* and went on to win six Golden Globes and one Primetime Emmy.
In 2013, Hoffman, who had always been very active in his career, suddenly went quiet.
It was later revealed that his cancer had been detected early.
Just months after Dustin Hoffman made his directorial debut with the British comedy *Quartet* (2012) and finished filming *Chef* (2014) alongside Jon Favreau and Sofia Vergara, the reason for his absence became clear.
Hoffman’s publicist, Jodi Gottlieb, shared with *People* (through ABC News) that the beloved actor had been privately treated for cancer. She didn’t reveal many details but said, “It was detected early, and he has been surgically cured. Dustin is feeling great and is in good health.”
At 75, Hoffman underwent preventative treatments to reduce the chances of the cancer returning. While Gottlieb didn’t specify the type of cancer, it was widely believed to be throat cancer.
Even after the news, Hoffman’s career didn’t slow down. He lent his voice to Master Shifu in more *Kung Fu Panda* films (2008 to 2024) and acted in several other movies, including *Sam and Kate* in 2022 and the upcoming sci-fi drama *Megalopolis* in 2024. Hoffman, now 86, continues to remind us of his resilience and passion for acting.
In early March 2024, *Hello!* magazine reported that Dustin Hoffman and his wife, Lisa Gottsegen, were seen walking around London, showing some sweet moments of affection.
Hoffman, who married Gottsegen in 1980, added four children to his family, along with two children from his previous marriage to Anne Byrne.
The article noted, “The Hollywood legend looked much younger than his 86 years as he smiled and waved at the cameras. He appeared tanned and relaxed while strolling through the city and visiting shops with his wife of 43 years.”
Neighbor Refused to Pay My Daughter After a Week of Babysitting – You Won’t Believe How I Got Even
Lucy came home after a long week of babysitting, her face pale and her eyes filled with tears. My heart sank the moment I saw her, as my daughter rarely cried, and when she did, it was never like this—silent sobs, her chest rising with every shaky breath, her body radiating the kind of hurt that makes a mother’s heart ache.
I rushed to her side, placing my hands on her shoulders gently. “Lucy, what happened?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady.
She wiped her tears away but didn’t speak right away. Her hands shook as she fiddled with her sweater, and I could tell something was deeply wrong. After a moment, she finally looked up at me, her voice barely audible.
“Mom, Mrs. Carpenter didn’t pay me for babysitting her kids,” Lucy whispered.
I frowned in confusion. “What? Why not?”
“She said it was a ‘life lesson,’ that I should’ve gotten everything in writing. Then she slammed the door in my face!” Lucy’s voice cracked, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “She said babysitting was hard work, and that was payment enough!”
I could feel my blood starting to boil. Mrs. Carpenter had refused to pay my daughter for babysitting all week, dismissing it as a lesson in responsibility? My fists clenched as I tried to stay calm for Lucy’s sake.
Lucy’s voice trembled as she continued. “Her kids were terrible, Mom. They wouldn’t listen to me, they threw toys at each other, and when I tried to make them do their reading, they said, ‘Mom says we don’t have to.’ I worked so hard all week, and she acted like it didn’t matter.”
“Oh, sweetie,” I whispered, pulling her close. At 15, Lucy was trying so hard to be responsible, and this was her first real job. “How much did she owe you?”
“I babysat for four hours each day for five days… so $220. I was going to use it for an art course I really wanted to take,” she sniffled.
Without hesitation, I reached for my purse and counted out the money. “Here, you earned this.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Mom, no. She’s the one who owes me, not you.”
“Don’t worry about it. You worked hard, and you deserve to get paid. I’ll take care of Mrs. Carpenter myself,” I said, hugging her tightly. “I’m going to make sure she understands that cheating you isn’t something she can get away with.”
As Lucy headed to the kitchen for a snack, I began planning. I wasn’t going to let Mrs. Carpenter get away with this. But I knew that confronting her in anger wouldn’t work. I needed a smarter approach—one that would teach Mrs. Carpenter a lesson of her own.
That night, I lay awake thinking about Lucy’s excitement when she first got the babysitting job. She had been so proud, so eager to prove she could handle responsibility. And now, Mrs. Carpenter had robbed her of that joy. I tossed and turned, replaying the events over in my mind. By the time morning came, I had a plan.
At 10 a.m., I knocked on Mrs. Carpenter’s door, forcing a pleasant smile onto my face. She answered, looking surprised to see me.
“Rebecca! What brings you by?” she asked.
“Oh, I just wanted to thank you for the valuable life lesson you gave Lucy,” I said sweetly, watching as confusion flickered across her face. “You know, the one about contracts and trust?”
Mrs. Carpenter’s smile turned smug. “Well, yes. I’m glad you understand. Children need to learn things the hard way sometimes.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I replied, pulling out my phone. “I’ve been telling everyone about it. In fact, I posted about it in our neighborhood group.”
Her smile faltered. “Posted? In the neighborhood group?”
I showed her the post, along with the flood of comments from other parents in the neighborhood. Mrs. Carpenter’s face paled as she read through them.
“Melissa said she’d never trust someone who treats kids like that,” I said. “And Janet from the PTA? She thinks we should bring this up at the next school board meeting. Says it reflects poorly on the community.”
Mrs. Carpenter’s eyes widened in panic. “Rebecca, I didn’t mean for this to go so far—”
Mrs. Carpenter’s confidence crumbled, and she stammered something about a misunderstanding. But I wasn’t interested in her excuses. I gave her a final smile, turned on my heel, and left.
Later that evening, Lucy came rushing through the door, an envelope in hand. “Mom! Mrs. Carpenter paid me! She said there was a misunderstanding about when she was supposed to pay.”
I smiled, pulling her into a hug. “That’s great, sweetie.”
As Lucy headed upstairs, I couldn’t help but feel satisfied. Some people might say I’d been too harsh or petty, but I didn’t care. My daughter had worked hard, and she deserved to know her efforts had value. Sometimes, the best lesson isn’t about taking the high road—it’s about showing your child that no one has the right to take advantage of them.
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