cancer

How Cancer Crossed the Color Line

annette — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 05:00:00 +0000

Cancer—a disease signifying White civilization? A disease of the domesticated female? An indifferent, “democratic disease”? Or, a targeted attack on specific racial and ethnic communities? These varying assertions and many more have populated America’s cancer discourse over the last century, fading in and out as the dominant way to comprehend the disease’s victimization.

Perhaps easier now than ever to agree that cancer (in all its types) indiscriminately permeates all racial, gender, ethnic, religious (etc.) groups, Keith Wailoo, a professor of history and director of the Center for Race and Ethnicity at Rutgers University, shows us how this was not always believed to be the case. How Cancer Crossed the Color Line traces the trajectory of cancer in America, from awareness, to prevention and treatment, drawing a critical link between medical advancements and socio-political shifts in gender and race understanding.

Beginning with early discussions from 1910-1930s, Wailoo notes the “birth of a dichotomy in American cancer awareness—[with] the emergence of a disparity between how experts, organizations, and communities worried about cancer awareness in white [women] as an individualized inner psychological issue, and how they worried over blacks as a demographic type, paying little attention to inner sensibilities.” This dichotomy is only the beginning, however. Drawing on a myriad of primary sources, from medical findings, popular culture, individual stories, and political advocacy, Wailoo makes a case for just how entrenched and beholden cancer rhetoric is (and has been) to dynamic shifts in our cultural understanding of race and gender.

Roughly moving decade to decade, How Cancer Crossed the Color Line charts the impact that historical events like World War II and the Civil Rights Movement, as well as social shifts like acknowledging ethnic diversity and socioeconomic disparities, have had on cancer awareness. Scrutinizing race and gender’s varying impact on dictating medical research, analysis of findings, and diffusion into the public sphere, Wailoo posits that although cancer is an indiscriminate disease, it has never really existed in a vacuum, as it has always been studied and interpreted by people, unavoidably beholden to a certain set of values and beliefs.

Although not necessarily a light read, Wailoo does an excellent job of conveying a dense amount of information in a comprehensible way, for academics and non-academics alike. And for those of you who may be a bit more academic, the text is meticulously cited, providing a wealth of primary source material in the endnotes for continued investigation.

Bottom line, I love this book. I admit, I am a nerd who really appreciates all efforts that seek to debunk the notion that race, gender, sexuality, and such do not play fundamental roles in dictating how we have come to understand aspects of our modern lives that we too often believe to be “beyond” identity and group differences—like medicine, science, and even technology. Despite seeming to be infallible sources of truth, each of these areas are unavoidably saturated with and influenced by our sociocultural beliefs and discriminations.

Keith Wailoo’s How Cancer Crossed the Color Line is an enlightening read, suggesting that even if accounting for “other” paradigms may make for a far more murky understanding of the already enigmatic cancer (in this case), only in the murkiness can actual progress be made moving forward. Most certainly there is still a "war on cancer" to be fought, but as Wailoo impressively highlights, it is as critical, if not more so, to continually scrutinize not just how we are fighting but also for whom.

Written by: Alison Veith, February 4th 2011

Iona Dreaming: The Healing Power of Place

caitlin — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Clare Cooper Marcus

Red Wheel Weiser

I felt deeply uncomfortable while reading Clare Cooper Marcus’ Iona Dreaming. Too uncomfortable, I thought—like eavesdropping on a stranger’s conversation with a long-lost friend.

Clare Cooper Marcus writes about a six-month, mostly solitary retreat spent on the small Scottish island of Iona. Twice a survivor of cancer, semi-retired academic professor, avid gardener, single mother of two, and author of several books, Marcus removes herself to Iona to focus on healing. In this book, she reflects on that experience and connects it to her wartime childhood spent in the English countryside, her experiences as a young wife and mother, and her cancer diagnoses and treatments. Throughout, Marcus crafts little vignettes and narratives from her adventures on the island, taking us through her brief stint as a waitress in a hotel café, long walks around the entire island, a run-in with bird-watchers, laundry day, and an encounter with the fairies.

If my brief description of the scope of Iona Dreaming leads you to believe it is incoherent, then the fault is my own, not Marcus’ prose. Even though the content of the book spans nearly her entire lifetime, Marcus’ writing conveys quiet and solitude. While reading, I often had the strange feeling that I was inhabiting Marcus’ innermost thoughts.

The intimacy of Marcus’ writing made me very uncomfortable when I first began the book, but by the time I finished it, I was grateful for it. First, I was delighted by the way she writes the island of Iona. Marcus’ academic work focuses on sense of place, and she writes about particular places with sensitivity and conviction. Second, Marcus writes herself with as much openness and sensitivity as she writes about Iona. I thought this an incredible connection and analogy: to think of oneself as a location or as a place.

While reading Iona Dreaming, it occurred to me that it could be very enlightening to consider how one conceives relationships to the external world in light of how one considers relationships to oneself: is the world (or oneself) an undisciplined thing to be mastered, or a natural thing to be appreciated? Feminists have written about the self and feminists have written about nature, but feminist work on place and on self with place could be quite fruitful. Though Marcus doesn’t say much about her relationship to feminism or to feminist thought, her lovely memoir may certainly provoke important feminist work in that area.

Written by: kristina grob, October 21st 2010

Living Downstream: An Ecologist’s Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment

admin — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Sandra Steingraber

Da Capo

In the original 1997 edition of Living Downstream, Sandra Steingraber was the first to compare data on toxic releases with data from U.S. cancer registries. In the last ten years since this edition was published, there has been rapid growth in the understanding of environmental links to human cancer and new published findings that corroborate the evidence Steingraber compiled in 1997. With a Ph.D. in biology and a Master's degree in creative writing, Steingraber has been the recipient of many awards, including Chatham College's Rachel Carson Leadership Award in 2001 and a Hero Award from the Breast Cancer Fund in 2006. Living Downstream is both a personal story of Steingraber's battle with cancer and her investigation into the potential sources of carcinogens released into the air, land, and water in and around her hometown of Normandale in West-Central Illinois, as well as in other areas of the United States.

Thirty years ago, when Steingraber was a twenty-year-old college student, she learned that she had bladder cancer and was surprised when her urologist asked her whether she had ever been exposed to textile dyes or worked in a tire factory or the aluminum industry. The author later learned that bladder cancer was considered a quintessential environmental cancer. In other words, there was more evidence linking it to toxic chemical exposure than to any other type of cancer. However, although bladder carcinogens had been identified, they continue to be used by industry even today. The obvious question, of course, is why have these chemicals not been banned. The reader quickly discovers that cancer causation is complex, as is proving the source responsible for this disease.

The author reminds her readers that of the 80,000 synthetic chemicals currently in use in the U.S., only about two percent have been tested for carcinogenicity and only five have been banned under the U.S. Toxics Substances Control Act since 1976. We also learn that the U.S. environmental regulatory system does not require exhaustive toxicological testing of chemicals before they are marketed. Legal limits are set on chemical releases, but, as we recently learned with bisphenol A (BPA), trace amounts can be more harmful to humans than higher doses. Moreover, we are often exposed to many contaminants simultaneously in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the food we ingest, and the land where we live and work.

Often compared with Rachel Carson, Steingraber makes some compelling arguments in favor of the precautionary principle, or the better-safe-than-sorry approach to chemicals. She also advocates the principle of reverse onus, which holds producers responsible for proving that their products will not harm the public, as is the case for pharmaceutical companies.

Sandra Steingraber has the expertise in science to give her the necessary authority to present an investigation of this scope and the impeccable writing to make it accessible to a wide audience. Although some environmental texts can be dry, Steingraber's writing and personal story make for a compelling read. Her drive and commitment to finding the missing pieces of the cancer jigsaw puzzle are humbling. I only wish that she had included a map of Tazewell County, Illinois, which we repeatedly visit throughout the book. A few diagrams of some the atoms she describes would have also been nice.

In short, if you have ever thought that the environment may have played a role in the death of a loved one and would like to know more, this is the book for you.

Written by: Heather Leighton, June 9th 2010

The Spare Room

admin — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Helen Garner

Picador

Many of us love our friends just as much as our family members. We often believe we would go to great lengths to protect them, as does Helen, the narrator of The Spare Room. Garner's novel is the story of a fifteen-year-old friendship between two women in their sixties, a period that is perhaps the busiest in a woman’s life with competing familial, social, and in many cases, professional demands.

Nicola, an artsy bohemian who turned her back on mainstream culture in the 1970s, goes to stay with Helen in her spare room in Melbourne so that she can undergo alternative Vitamin C treatments for her stage-four cancer. Selfless Helen, who initially does whatever is necessary to accommodate her friend, quickly butts heads with Nicola’s coping method of choice: denial. As Helen puts her life on hold caring for Nicola for a mere "fortnight," which turns into three weeks, she quickly becomes overcome with fatigue. Her exhaustion stems not only from the constant care she feels her friend needs, but also from having to hold her tongue in the face of money-grubbing charlatans and her much-loved friend’s magical thinking regarding her disease.

It may be difficult to imagine this as light reading. However, Garner is a master of concision, and it is difficult to find even a single superfluous sentence in her 175 pages. In addition to shedding light on the limits of friendship, she also celebrates key aspects of friendship between women: the validation of thoughts and feelings, the understanding, and the laughter. In fact, it is Garner’s use of rich, dark humour that knocks the stuffing out of death and illness in this book and keeps the narrative rolling.

Although many young women will feel this scenario is still a long way off, Nicola’s harsh look back on what she made of her life will cause some to realize just how insidious and powerful mainstream culture is. Our strong and seemingly invincible bohemian mothers and aunts who chose their counterculture lives in the 1970s have not always been immune to the pervasiveness of the status quo and how it still manages to creep in and colour their basic personal views. The Spare Room gives us all a much needed reminder of the work that we as women still have ahead of us, not only in striving for equality in material terms, but also in acknowledging and validating our own personal struggles with mainstream culture as we head down the road less traveled.

In short, The Spare Room should be read not only for the quality of the writing but also for the situation that everyone will be pushed one day to consider. This is a perfect book for an intergenerational book club.

Written by: Heather Leighton, April 29th 2010

From Pink to Green: Disease Prevention and the Environmental Breast Cancer Movement

admin — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Barbara L. Ley

Rutgers University Press

...the environmental breast cancer movement is well positioned to use its breast cancer work as a way to contribute not only to the eradication of the disease itself but also to the environmental health of all humans and other living beings.

When I was diagnosed with Stage II invasive ductile carcinoma, I was angry not just because I now had cancer, but because no one seemed to be talking about its causes or, better yet, prevention. When my husband spied an opportunity for me to review From Pink to Green, I jumped at the chance: finally, someone was addressing prevention.

From Pink to Green consists of eight chapters, useful notes, and a largely accurate index of the names of researchers, cancer-related organizations, and several score topics. The first chapter, "A Movement in the Making," considers a postcard from 1994 depicting breast cancer survivor and activist Raven Light. She stands with her hand on her hip while holding a sign that reads, "Invisibility Equals Death." Light is bare-chested, her mastectomy scar exposed. The postcard says the number of women diagnosed with breast cancer increased from one in twenty in 1964 to one in eight by 1994, but what does this mean? That the incidence of breast cancer in women has tripled? That the rates of diagnosis have tripled? Both? Something else? The already visually arresting postcard implicitly asks whether the dominant paradigm of breast cancer research—diagnosis, treatment, and cure—overlooks something even more fundamental: prevention.

Ley's fascinating account is multi-sited and multi-method in scope. She volunteered in both a small, one-room office at WomenCARE (Women's Cancer Advocacy, Resources and Education) and at the American Cancer Society, and was also a research associate for the environmental health scientist Devra Lee Davis. She thus simultaneously inhabits the worlds of social activism and scientific research.

Much of the text is devoted to the science of multiple exposures to cancer-causing pathogens. Readers will appreciate how xenoestrogens "share chemical properties with the hormone estrogen and can act on the body's cells and tissue as false estrogen molecules, disrupting the ability of natural estrogen to function normally." They will be challenged to find that phthalates found in cosmetics, deodorants, shampoos, plastics are known breast cancer carcinogens and have been linked to increased rates of testicular sterility in male offspring of women using these products.

Because From Pink to Green shines the light on precautionary prevention, not secondary cure, I want to quote from Mary O'Brien, breast cancer survivor and environmental health activist: _Our breasts are simply ONE marvelous part in Earth's system... If we're going to put our bodies and our breasts back together... we're going to have to restore the hormone systems of the frogs. ... We're going to have to put estuaries, streams, grasslands, the winds and the ozone layer back together. ... We are going to have to reconstruct our agriculture so that farms are not hazardous chemical sites... we're going to have to consider what it means to know and care for children, to avoid forcing them into a world that has no room for anything but humans.__From Pink to Green_ is designed for women's studies and public health courses. I will share it with other women whom I have met through my experience with breast cancer.

Written by: Cassandra Lee, December 18th 2009

Life Is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally

admin — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 08:26:00 +0000

By Patti Digh

skirt!

Thirty-seven days after being diagnosed with cancer, author Patti Digh’s stepfather died. It is this moment that inspired the book Life Is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally. The book provides ways to think and ways to act that will help give meaning and intention to life because, as cliché as it may be, we really don’t know how much time we have left.

The book includes a number of writing exercises and journal entries that can help you come to terms with things from your past, as well as current roadblocks that are preventing you from living with purpose. We live our lives with certain patterns in place, and while certain patterns and habits can be helpful, negative thoughts and behaviors may have become unconscious. Digh’s book will help force awareness of the negativity and helps counter it.

Spread throughout the text are collages and images created by the author that add to the creative flavor of the book. Digh uses personal examples along with her own pictures to support her points. She is a woman who knows that life can be hard, and wants women to improve themselves, not for a man or to fit any societal image of how we "should" act, but a personal journey to enrich our own lives.

Chapters focus on a variety of topics that seem like common sense, but that can be hard to put into practice: giving back (to others as well yourself), trusting your intuition, loving yourself and others, and saying 'yes'. Working on being mindful and living intentionally can be challenging. Changing ingrained habits takes work, awareness, and time. It is easy to get lost, but Digh provides a road map.

For those without the money to buy the book (thank you recession!), check out Digh’s blog. She updates regularly and it’s full of inspiration and the acknowledgment of life’s challenges. The blog was an impetus for her first book, and she is currently working on a follow-up, specifically for the artists entitled Creative is a Verb: 37 Days to Unleash Your Inner Artist.

Written by: Kristin Conard, October 15th 2009

Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor: More Rebellion and Fire or Your Healing Journey

admin — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 00:03:00 +0000

By Kris Carr

skirt!

Kris Carr was diagnosed with chronic cancer and instead of sitting around and waiting to die, she began to really live. She reshaped her life from the inside physically and mentally. Her first book was Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips and this follow up book gives the reader more support and inspiration.

I do not have cancer, but I found incredible strength and numerous fabulous ideas in this book. Many of the lessons and advice from Carr can be taken by anyone. There are a number of exercises and tasks to do, and blank pages are left to answer the prompts given. I particularly liked the following: “How do you find stability in the midst of unsafety?” and “What does the woman or man you desire to become look like?”

Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor is peppered with plenty of attitude and humor from Carr, and quotes from famous writers and philosophers are throughout. Carr seems like a trusted friend and adviser, but one who doesn’t take herself too seriously. She looks to her support system—doctors, friends, and her mother—to write brief essays on diet, meditation, and beauty tips.

Many of the ideas seem like common sense, yet it is easy to get bogged down into repetitive and destructive ways of thinking. Writing this as a woman who hasn’t been diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, I can only imagine that challenge is multiplied for cancer patients. Carr reminds us to break out of these patterns, get off our butts, and make things better for ourselves. No one else is going to do it for us, and as she says, we are the CEOs of our own lives.

Carr's website has more support and tips. There are continual updates on physical, emotional, and mental well being, but if you don’t just want to read about how to change your lifestyle, the website gives you the tools to change your physical self as well. Carr recommends juicers, water test kits, raw foods, vitamins, yoga mats, body wash, essential oils, lubricant, and even saunas! Also posted online are Carr's upcoming workshops and events; her passion for life in her book is inspiring, so in person, I’m guessing she’s pretty incredible!

Written by: Kristin Conard, October 7th 2009

The Adventures of Cancer Bitch

admin — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 08:48:00 +0000

By S. L. Wisenberg

University of Iowa Press

Laying it out there with stunning realness, incorporating funny yet saddening as well as humorous but serious moments, S. L. Wisenberg presents blog entries of her journey through breast cancer discovery, surgery, and recovery in The Adventures of Cancer Bitch. Sharing many—if not all—of her life’s vulnerable moments with the reader, the author demonstrates the humanness of living through cancer.

Illuminating but difficult experiences fill Wisenberg’s writing. She delves into self-absorption as well as utter hysterics due to her bare bones admittance of recovery drugs and daily living through the painful process. As a reader, it is easy to feel her stress and sympathize as if you are on the sofa next to her as she wallows in her pain. This pain does not make Wisenberg bitchy; on the contrary, it reveals her true character questioning the world around her and why the commodified pink ribbons have become a "catch-all" for the destructive disease we all encounter at some point in our lives.

In addition, Wisenberg feeds background to the reader: both her Jewish culture and Texas childhood pop up at different moments throughout the book. These points give Wisenberg even more credibility and realness as she elaborates on her mother, her attendance at seder, her self-proclaimed yuppiness, and her interactions with close friends who lost their son to cancer at a very young age. Literary allusions as well as other anecdotal stories lend a substantive and creative fill to the book.

I found myself laughing at the author's antics while dealing with the seriousness of her condition, and I found myself sobbing at points where her depression and darkness haunts her recovery through chemotherapy. Weisenberg is so real. I find her journey an adventure indeed, but her "bitch" title more of a friend who puts it out there, no lies, no holds barred. Folks, if you have cancer, you may attest that this person's story is very close to yours.

Written by: Carolyn Espe, August 7th 2009

Everything Changes: The Insider's Guide to Cancer in Your 20's and 30's

admin — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 22:02:00 +0000

By Kairol Rosenthal

John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

When I read the title of this book, it piqued my interest instantly. Let's face it: there is a lot out there about people over forty and their struggle with cancer, and even quite a bit about children with cancer. In fact, when I think of cancer, I usually picture someone the age of my parents and grandparents, or the boys and girls in ads for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. I don't picture myself or my fiancé, sisters, or friends. So I cracked this book open not really knowing what to expect. I quickly learned that 70,000 people in their twenties and thirties are diagnosed with cancer each year in the United States. Because they are not the face of cancer, they deal with a unique set of problems and often feel quite alone. Kairol Rosenthal, herself a cancer patient, wants to change that.

Rosenthal set out to write a book filled with the authentic experiences of real people. She wanted to tell their stories in their words and show that just as not every case of cancer is the same, not every cancer patient is the same. These young people are as diverse as any of us. Some reject the label "survivor," while others embrace it. Some find comfort in their loved ones like never before, while others feel it is too much to put on a happy face so they handle it alone. The book would have been poignant enough if she had merely put these stories on paper, but she didn't leave it at that. She also wanted to help cancer patients, along with their friends and families by providing resources, often free or inexpensive, that cover almost everything you can think of: health insurance, being a student, getting divorced, clinical trials, and much more.

Each chapter tells the story of one cancer patient, interwoven with some of Rosenthal's own experiences, and pull quotes from other patients about how they dealt with the issues brought up in that chapter. She ends each chapter by listing resources connected directly to the challenges the patient in that chapter deals with. For example, the chapter about Wafa'a, a single twenty-something who feels her body is worthless, ends with a section about dating, sex, body image, and relationships. She shares when and how to reveal you have cancer while dating, booklets that teach you how to achieve orgasm and avoid pain, and websites that help you shop for make-up, wigs, and comfortable clothing.

The format of the book helps drive home not only the feelings and beliefs of the people Rosenthal interviewed, but also practical things that can be done to deal with these struggles. I liked that she left their experiences in their own words, because it made me feel like I was there in the room with them. I felt the narration she sprinkled in was eloquent and helped tie themes together. These themes were sometimes specific to cancer, but most often about life, healing, race, gender, age, relationships, and other things that come up in everyone's lives but pose a different challenge for young people living with cancer. I appreciated most that by the end of the book, I felt very empowered, and had learned a lot about these people's lives and what I might do if one of them was my friend.

The ultimate take-away: if you are a young person diagnosed with cancer, you are not at all alone; if you know somebody affected by cancer, treat them with the care, concern, respect and appreciation you always have, no more and no less. And, of course, read this book and share it with the people you love.

Written by: frau sally benz, July 25th 2009

Toxic Trespass

admin — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 11:19:00 +0000

Directed by Barri Cohen

National Film Board of Canada

Barri Cohen's filmic crusade for children's health, Toxic Trespass, starts with her 10-year-old daughter, Ada, announcing the results of her "body burden" blood test for chemical substances at a press conference. She says: "I am polluted." The results are dreadful for one so young, yet no one can reassure Ada about the consequences that these poisons will have on her health. From the outset, Toxic Trespass criticizes the government’s inability to establish safe levels for chemical levels in blood, especially given the ever-escalating rate of childhood cancers.

Despite reluctance to identify "toxic clusters"—areas of higher incidence—environmental causes are said to be responsible for ninety-five percent of cancers (as opposed to genetic causes). The geographical focus of the documentary is the larger Great Lakes Basin and in order to draw conclusions, Cohen explores Windsor, Canada, a city located across the river from Detroit. Windsor is known for high levels of airborne toxins because of the numerous heavy metal industries concentrated in one area (foundries, etc.), but Cohen also interviews people who denounce vehicle emissions (Windsor is Canada’s busiest border crossing) and other possible contributing factors.

The great strength of the documentary is that children, dissenting scientists, women, and Native American groups are given a voice. Cohen focuses on the Aamjiwnaang First Nation near Sarnia, Ontario, a city to which eighty percent of petrochemical products used in the world can be linked, located across the river from Port Huron, Michigan. The Chippewa Land is surrounded by large chemical multinationals located in "Chemical Valley." Mercury levels in the community’s water were found to be 100 times higher than established government thresholds. Here Cohen confirms studies corroborating that pollutants provoke endocrinal disruption and skew the sex ratio in births, inhibiting the production of male embryos in mothers and/or affecting the Y-chromosome in sperm.

In her investigation of contaminants, Cohen also criticizes the use of pesticides for cosmetic reasons, introducing Jean-Dominic Lévesque-René, a lymphoma survivor from Quebec who has been fighting for recognition of environmental toxins causing childhood illnesses since his diagnosis at the age of ten in 1994. In 2001, he was recognized by the U.N. Environment Programme for his outstanding contributions to the protection of the environment.

Exposing the government's "4D" strategy with regards to public information on environmental problems—deny, delay, divide and discredit—Cohen suggests collusion with industry in keeping information from the public, and especially challenges the general tendency to minimize or deny possible environmental effects of pollution on citizens. She does not hide her bias, recognizes her own responsibility in her daughter’s contamination (i.e., bottles, toys), but manages to leave spectators with optimism by showing impassioned citizens fighting to make their communities safer.

People who have seen documentaries on environmental causes of cancer, such as Toxic Bust or Rachel's Daughters: Searching for the Causes of Breast Cancer, will note similarities with these films, even though it does not exclusively deal with breast cancer. Producer Dorothy Goldin-Rosenberg previously examined breast cancer in Exposure: Environmental Links to Breast Cancer.

Mixing historical footage on chemical production, home videos, interviews, and didactic "toxic facts," this exceptional documentary is of a quality typical of Canada’s NFB and, among other prizes, received a Canadian Screenwriting Award by the Writers’ Guild of Canada in 2008.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, March 3rd 2009

Cancer is a Bitch: (Or, I'd Rather Be Having A Midlife Crisis)

admin — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 00:09:00 +0000

By Gail Konop Baker

De Capo Press

After completing her second novel (one about a woman dealing with breast cancer that her agent wasn't very excited about), Gail Konop Baker was actually diagnosed with the disease herself. In this book, she takes the journals that kick started her column "Bare-Breasted Mama" and turns them into this smart, funny, insightful, and intimate book about an event in her life that really rocked her world.

I selected this read because it seems like cancer has been creeping around the six-degree-edges of my life lately. Neighbors, coworkers, friends of friends—every week I hear about someone else who was diagnosed. People who seemed to be the picture of good health are suddenly meeting with doctors and surgeons to form battle plans, knowing that any treatment they select is still going to be unpleasant. And I imagine some of their experiences are not so unlike Baker's description of trying to dress for the exam:

...waking that morning in disbelief that I had an appointment with an oncologist. Oncologist? That word was for other people, older people, unlucky people. People who die. I stared into my bureau drawers, agonizing over what to wear, wondering why they didn't send that information with the postcard appointment reminder and how I was supposed to navigate all these decisions without more guidance? You get an instruction booklet with a toaster oven but no instructions for marriage or motherhood or cancer.

Cancer is the antagonist in this story, but the real trip is an inside look at the messy, emotional, day-to-day of a woman's life, a woman who by chance also happens to be a very funny, witty, and exuberant writer. I not only laughed out loud reading Cancer Is a Bitch; I also paused to consider my life as a mother and as a human being while continually nodding my head as I thought of yet another friend that I wanted to recommend it to.

It is the small observations that make this book. Her own analysis of her twenty-year marriage, of how love can ebb and flow with seemingly irrational meandering and then come back to center. Like when she describes dropping her daughter off to start college:

And as I stand here in the quad I feel the rush of all the years passing in this moment. I didn't mean to rush it. I didn't mean to ever feel frustrated and bored, to want to get everything done, to ever think, 'When she finally grows up I'll get my life back,' because it isn't true. She was and is my life and I'm not ready to let go...and we're both crying now, our bodies trembling as she whispers, 'It's okay, Mom. We're both going to be okay.'

That voice is what I enjoyed so much, because of its ablity to freak out and yet still see the irony, and the humor.

Written by: Jen Wilson Lloyd, January 11th 2009