IT'S HARD to work up a whole lot of sympathy for celebrities who court the media one day and the next day assault paparazzi, as Kanye West was charged with doing.

Fame, after all, comes with a steep price. Ask Rihanna, whose police photos of her battered face were leaked to the press after she allegedly was assaulted by R&B singer Chris Brown.

The privacy rights of celebrities isn't something I usually spend much time worrying about, though. There's nothing more tiresome than people who go out of their way to achieve fame and then complain once photographers start snapping photos of them. If you don't want people hounding you, stay off the red carpet.

But, sometimes, I just have to feel sorry for those who totally lose every shred of privacy, particularly when they're far from the spotlight and just trying to live their life. Take, for example, what happened last week with Brooke Shields' mentally incapacitated mother. Teri Shields, 75, was checked out of a New Jersey nursing home and taken to a restaurant, presumably so a National Enquirer reporter could quiz her about famous daughter.

And then there is Farrah Fawcett, whose moving documentary about her painful struggle with terminal anal cancer attracted nine million viewers Friday night on NBC. Since her diagnosis, she suspected that an employee at the UCLA Medical Center, where she was being treated, was leaking information about her illness to the National Enquirer. You may have seen some of the headlines, including one from December 2006 that read, "Farrah Begs: 'Let Me Die.' " For Fawcett, who was trying desperately to stay alive, it had to have been the worst kind of invasion.

After Fawcett set up her own sting operation, the medical facility eventually determined which employee was responsible for the leaks. But all of this happened after word had gotten out that Fawcett's cancer had recurred. Having family members dealing with cancer, I know that the last thing people need when they are going through treatment is an additional headache like that.

I have to hand it to Fawcett for permitting us to see what it's like being a late-stage cancer patient, with hair loss, vomiting and all. Fawcett will be remembered for how she invited the world in to witness her private suffering. The image of her incarcerated son, Redmond O'Neal, as he visited his mother one final time was heart-wrenching.

Because of Fawcett's openess, more people will be examined for anal cancer, a relatively rare disease that struck about 5,000 Americans last year, according to the National Cancer Institute. And more folks will get their daughters vaccinated against the human papillomavirus (HPV), which has been linked to the disease. Doctors say that anal cancer is treatable with early detection.

Most likely, though, it's too late for Fawcett.

Meanwhile, the vultures are continuing to peck away. A former producer is suing Fawcett after being dropped from the documentary, and the New York Post is reporting that Fawcett's best friend, Alana Stewart, allegedly threatened to withhold video unless she got more money and a producer credit.

If it's all true, at least this last drama can't be blamed on reporters and the paparazzi. *

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