A wry, witty account of what it is like to face death--and be restored to life.
After being diagnosed in her early 40s with metastatic melanoma--a "rapidly fatal" form of cancer--journalist and mother of two Mary Elizabeth Williams finds herself in a race against the clock. She takes a once-in-a-lifetime chance and joins a clinical trial for immunotherapy, a revolutionary drug regimen that trains the body to vanquish malignant cells. Astonishingly, her cancer disappears entirely in just a few weeks. But at the same time, her best friend embarks on a cancer journey of her own--with very different results. Williams's experiences as a patient and a medical test subject reveal with stark honesty what it takes to weather disease, the extraordinary new developments that are rewriting the rules of science--and the healing power of human connection.
“SPOILER: I lived,” Salon journalist Williams begins her bittersweet memoir of having Stage 4 metastatic melanoma. She was first diagnosed at Stage 2c in August 2010, when she had a several-millimeter scab on her head surgically removed at New York City’s celebrated Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. When the melanoma came back a year and a half later, this time in her lungs as well as in a tumor on her back, she had the extreme good luck of qualifying for an immunotherapy trial that straight up cured her. It’s the kind of encouraging story you don’t often hear in a cancer memoir. On the other hand, her father-in-law’s esophageal cancer and her best friend Debbie’s ovarian cancer simply went from bad to worse. This book presents a whole range of cancer experiences, emphasizing how severity depends on the type but also on the individual.
As the title suggests, Williams’s tone vacillates between despair and hope, but her writing is always wry and conversational. “I wonder if I will finish a canister of oatmeal, or if my bottle of Tabasco will outlast my presence in this world,” she writes; she and Debbie exchange joke T-shirts, including a “F*** Cancer” one she’ll wear to every check-up. “Don’t think of it as losing your hair,” she advises Debbie. “Think of it as a fullbody Brazilian.” And then there’s her idea of making a killing by opening up a bar across from Sloan Kettering called “Terminal.” But there’s also plenty of heart-rending stuff here, including Williams’s desperate hope to stick around for her two daughters and partner Jeff, with whom she’d recently reconciled.
Don’t let the cancer theme fool you: this book is by no means a downer.
Bonus: 5% of the proceeds go to Gilda’s Club, a New York City support group for children with family members with cancer.
Very personal and intensely clear recital of all the events which turned her life around and nearly out since her diagnosis. It's at least 3.5 star. It taught me much about this type of cancer and its treatments. Her voice is honest and the support groups and others' stories told in detail. Although it is very sad, the "eyes" of her cognition during these periods are well told. You will learn about Sloan-Kettering and NYC life from the eyes/ mind/ heart of the patient who wants to live to see her daughters grow up. Dire and real problem path by a gutsy human within a 1st world life is worth the read.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this book would change my life; it did. My mom had Stage 3c Ovarian Cancer and lived 18 months. It metastasis to her liver, lungs, stomach, and her brain. it was everywhere. I don't feel like they did much for her, to be honest. She was only 57. When I read this book, I laughed, I cried, I related. I have a lot of survivors guilt, despite not being the one with cancer. I was the main caregiver. If I could go back, I would have done it differently. They gave her nothing for her immune system, she constantly had infections, even had to receive a trach because an infection ate her epiglottis away. You are so right when you say, "Not every ones cancer is the same." A cure - is a bit of a far reach for anyone to say, because that would mean we have a cure for everyone's unique cancer. If that day ever happens... I hope I'm alive to see it.
Is generous a word people use about memoirs? Because that is the word that best describes "A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles" for me. Mary Elizabeth Williams unflinchingly describes the raw emotion that blindsided her time and again, from her own diagnosis and recurrence of cancer, to the losses of her close loved ones, through physical pain and uncertainty and frightened children and even the gross stuff like oozing wounds and a horrifically timed (shudder) lice outbreak. She is beyond generous to let us into her thoughts and feelings, a beacon to anyone going through similar trials.
But it's not all gloom and doom, as the spoiler that opens the book proves. She lived.
There is humor in here, so much of the humor that helped her and her husband and her best friend retaliate against the onslaught. There's fascinating research about the immunotherapy treatment that saved her, its history, and the doctors who are pushing it forward. And there's so much wisdom and insight. I dog-eared many pages to refer back to, to words that brought me, a widow with two children struggling to get through day after day, a lot of comfort.
There's one passage early in the book that took my breath away, because it mirrored my own experience in grief counseling. It happens just a couple of days after Mary Elizabeth's cancer diagnosis. "I'm already grieving for the person I was on August 10. Her unquestioning ability to plan things far in advance, her unshakeable certainty of her own future existence, her ability to walk down Broadway on a bright summer day with no hat and no fear. She was obliterated in the span of a phone call. I wish I'd had a chance to say goodbye."
There's a reason they call them "life-changing experiences". When our lives are changed, we are changed. We miss like hell the person we used to be. We hate it, but we have to deal with it and get on with the business of living. Mary Elizabeth Williams teaches us that we can do that with humor, with grace, and with love.
This book actually got my ass to the gym - both so I didn't have to put it down, but because of the inspiring content - LIVING. Wow. An honest account of dealing with the shock, SHOCK! of realizing your day-to-day life in the sun fucked up your body and caused staged 4 melanoma. I enjoyed Mary Elizabeth's stunning report of receiving this news, juggling her family, her career and all of the other annoying things that happen to us when we have ailing parents and young children. Could have been anyone of us. I was in awe of some of her poetic and theatrical word choices (which gave meaning and love to her dark experience - and often humor) as well as the rundown of the info on immunotherapy. I am excited by this amazing development in modern medicine. FUCK CANCER. Looking forward to our future without it. Highly recommend this memoir.
4.5 stars. Terrifying, fascinating, heartbreaking and hopeful. This book was amazing. The author of this memoir was diagnosed with melanoma, and then metastatic melanoma, at the age of 44. Because she happened to get “the right cancer” at “the right time,” her clinical trial was one that used immunotherapy, where the drugs help the patient’s immune system fight the cancer (vs just poisoning the cells like in chemo). It’s a relatively new field of cancer research and it was interesting to learn about the approach. Do not think this book isn’t devastatingly sad in places - there were several parts where I cried like a baby. But the author is still alive (a rarity for this type of memoir these days) and she tackled her experience with cancer with humor, irreverence, hope and raw honesty.
After listening to Mary Elizabeth Williams speak about her experience as a cancer patient in a clinical trial, I immediately sought out her book, A Series of Catastrophes of Miracles: A True Story of Love, Science, and Cancer. In between the Author's Note and Chapter 1 is a page with the words "SPOILER: I lived." I knew I was in for a good read.
And my God, was I ever.
Salon writer Williams knows how to tell a story, and her own is poignant and funny, sad and cheerful, heartbreaking and heartwarming...it's just so perfectly real and true, a wonderful and warm portrait of what is so often portrayed as a tragic, somber, gloomy experience. Which is not to say that it's not that, it's that it's not just that. I loved the specific human touches here, the gifts she receives from friends, the fact that she can remember what she was watching or reading or listening to at various points because pieces of media become inextricably tied to your story, the defiant vacation she takes because just because she has cancer doesn't mean she's not allowed to have fun.
The book works on multiple levels. On a personal level, Williams describes how her diagnosis and treatment affect not only her but also her husband and two young daughters, not to mention her father-in-law and best friend, who also get cancer. Her reactions are honest and complex, reminding me of how I might react in the same situation. And I ended up relating to her story more than expected because it's a very accurate depiction of someone working through trauma and grief, both in how she deals with it and how other people support her (or don't). Though she does lament what cancer does to her body, the raw emotion comes from reading about what it does to her mind and how it changes the way she looks at the world and her life.
On a science level, Williams ably collates information from researchers and doctors to provide the reader with background information on both cancer and the groundbreaking immunology therapy that saved her life (spoiler, she lived, remember?). As someone who works in cancer pharmaceuticals, I was especially interested in her perspective here, and it was fascinating to read what it's like for the people who are, to me, generally nothing more than a number. Luckily, with one notable exception, she encounters pretty friendly and informative doctors who treat her well, and she'd be the first to admit she was extremely fortunate, as she happened to get cancer in the vicinity in one of the best cancer centers in the country, Memorial Sloan Kettering. When she finally joins a clinical trial near the end of the book, I loved the reactions to the incredible success of the immunotherapy, which was still attempting to gain credence as a potential avenue of therapy apart from the usual trio of surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. The whole book is essentially an ode to the power of immunotherapy, as Mary Elizabeth Williams was one of the first patients for whom it proved successful.
I teared up multiple times when reading this book, as it is powerfully written with deep insights. It has much to say directly about the topic of cancer and cancer treatment, but I believe it can speak to a part of anyone. For a book about the specter of impending death, it's full of so much life.
I frequently have to lookup whether ipilimumab targets CTLA-4 or PD-1, but after reading this story, I think I no longer will need to look that up.
“Spoiler: I lived” This is how Mary Elizabeth starts her story as she details her initial diagnosis of melanoma, later recurrence, and complete response to a combined ipilimumab+nivolumab treatment. The story was moving and touching. Thank you for sharing!
I'm not sure what to say except it wasn't exactly what I expected. While I felt sympathy for this lady, I felt even more so for the other patients in the book, not just because some of them died, but what they all had to deal with. Cancer is prevalent in my family so it isn't like I haven't seen these events play out before - the ups and downs of a disease that plays havoc with both emotions and body tissue - maybe it was because I have seen more stoicism that what she projected in her own illness. The most beneficial parts for me were those that went into some of the scientific issues of disease and cancer itself. I feel both sympathy for everyone with cancer and yet, it also dredges up my own fears of someday having the disease itself. The treatments can be horrific.
Oh my. I couldn't put this down. I was not prepared for a cancer story because within 6 months 3 dear friends have entered their own world of cancer. When my daughter passed this to me as a must read I did so reluctantly. I am so so glad I did. Well written, easily understood page turner that makes you an intimate part of a sweet and salty, bitter and beautiful story. I am better informed, better prepared to support my friends and thank MaryElizabeth for this gift.
I read this book just before picking up When Breath Becomes Air and while this story was interesting enough, it really suffered from that comparison. I'd recommend picking up the Kalanithi instead.
The synopsis caught my attention the first time I heard about it a few years ago, and after seeing positive reviews everywhere, I became curious and decided to get a copy for myself. It took me a very long time to get hold of one from Book Depository when it went out of copy some time ago, which makes the anticipation of reading it all the more unbearable.
Author Mary Elizabeth Williams is a writer for Salon, a politically liberal news and opinions website, and a survivor of advanced metastatic melanoma, and this book is a compilation of all her experiences surrounding the life-changing event, from the day she first learned about having it to the day she fully recovered. At the same time, she tells the stories of her friends who didn't quite have a good ending to their battles with cancer, thereby making her reflect on how cancer affects lives and changes the way people live with them indefinitely.
What makes Elizabeth's book particularly outstanding is her writing style, which exemplifies effective wry humor and empathetic subtlety. Written entirely in first-person perspective and with fluid prose, it reads like a personal journal-novel that details the author's journey that spanned over a few years, one that is peppered with moments that are lighthearted for some and tragic for others.
Moreover, the book is utterly absorbing from start to finish because of Elizabeth's sheer genuineness in her approach towards her condition and mortality in overall, staring at both of them not with paralyzing fear but with morbid adult humor, coupled with the occasional in-your-face profanity that makes her personality all the more likable. There's something so natural and candid about her writing that I can imagine the scenes being played out right inside my head for every page.
At the same time, the author's experience is laced with melancholy and sorrow, further amplified by her personal 'good ending' that results in some survivor's guilt, especially in contrast with not so good experiences by the loved ones around her, such as her best friend Debbie and her father figure. She realizes how cancer doesn't discriminate, and makes her realize how life has to be cherished when we still have it.
With sass and comedic relief, Elizabeth confronts the cause of deaths, a phenomenon that has plagued humanity for eons, and her story is irresistibly engaging to read. There are some technical parts, like when the author explains the treatments she got and how immunotherapy works in treating cancers, but she always keeps them to a minimum and render them understandable (even enlightening) for the readers instead of dry and unintelligible.
Steeped with a perfect balance of devil-may-care and tragic moments, 'A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles' is not a story of cancer survival. It's a cancer love story, one that is wracked with both happiness and sadness, changing lives inevitably and making all those inflicted by it to review and reflect their existence and finite time they have with the people around them. There's nothing glorious about surviving cancer; just like coming back from a war, these people have to come to terms with themselves even if they've recovered, and their journey afterward is only the first step towards a healing process that will take a lifetime.
It's written in the same vein as Atul Gawande's 'Being Mortal' and Paul Kalanithi's 'When Breath Becomes Air', where the central motif is not about the disease, but confronting mortality itself. This is arguably the most poignant medical nonfiction book I've read in a long time, and perhaps the most underrated book I've come across on Goodreads. Elizabeth's book is a love letter that celebrates life, and how everyone should learn to cherish every minute of it. Simply astonishing; it's definitely up there on my Best of 2019 list, so bravo!
I'm not sure how to review this other than to say that it really moved me. It was really honest and really real. And the realness is what invoked the feelings I felt--sadness at the cruelty of this horrible and terrifying disease; hopefulness for science and the doctors who are working toward cures and for the patients participating in trials; awe at the strength of the people going through this and for that of their families and friends and caregivers. While a memoir of the author's "journey" (like her, I hate that word to describe something like this) it was really also a story of love and friendship and strength.
I remember when my mom told me she had melanoma and she was going to be having surgery to remove it and then a skin graft to basically give her new skin in the area of the melanoma, I (like a really terrible daughter) assumed it would all be fine and it wasn't a big deal. It's not that I didn't take skin cancer seriously, but I am that person who just assumes this kind of stuff won't happen to MY parents (let alone me) and I really put a lot of faith that doctors know what they are doing and everything will be great. Fortunately for her, it did turn out OK but now that I've read more about melanoma and learned that she had not just melanoma but also all three skin cancers you can have and she has the gene which could be a genetic worry for my brother and I, (source) I am terrified. We spent out summers as little kids shirtless, sometimes naked, running around in the Florida sunshine. I am literally covered in moles and freckles, I've already had a suspicious one removed when I was in middle school, so the reality that I actually need to be extra cautious is drilled into my head. So long story short, as soon as I saw this as a book review option, I was all over it because it hits so close to home.
It's a true story of Mary Elizabeth and her weirdo scab on her head she thought was just a nuisance but turned out to be a very deadly form of melanoma. She has the initial reaction that any of us would upon hearing we have cancer- we'd calmly finish what we were in the middle in, and then breakdown. Look at our children, freak out on the inside, and do whatever it was that we had to do to beat this. She does it with honestly, humor, real tears, and you find yourself relating to her as if she's your best friend. Throughout the book there is not just her real account of what surgery, post surgery, lingering pain, cancer treatments, and repeat is like, but she also talks about how people around you react and treat you. Sure, you get the pot pies and the lasagnas, but beyond that people fall into the "ignore it and it isn't a big deal" category, the "overly invasive, in your business" category, and then the "we have no idea what to do but we want to do something" category. I'm ashamed to say I was in the first with my mother and it's not because I didn't care, but because it was really the first time I had ever seen my mother in that light- scared, but trying not to be, so I felt like if I made a big deal out of it, it would scare her more, or stress her out. And frankly? I am terrified to lose my mom. I have friends who have lost theirs and they always tell me how awful it is, how I'll never be the same, and what a difference it makes in the rest of my life and none of that sounds like something I want to deal with. I really need my mom still. A lot. I can't even imagine what I would do if I couldn't call my mom to vent or to ask a question or to ask for help. She's literally the only person who never makes me feel stupid when I don't know something, or make me feel bad when I need help. So as I'm reading this book, I was emotional and terrified that this could have been, could still be, the reality for my mom and I.
I also liked how the book gives us actual history and information about cancer, cancer treatments, and it's just a really brutal look into the cancer industry and what it means for real people. You can take a treatment that is $120K for four doses or you can buy a house. You can't buy both but what do you want- to live or be homeless? It's that kind of decision that millions of people are making out there and it's just... it's a lot to think about when your body is effectively trying to kill you. I found myself connected with the secondary characters, the friends and family around Mary Elizabeth, who are fighting (and sometimes losing) their own battles with cancer. It's just such a great book. I think cancer scares us all because it isn't forgiving and even if you "beat it" you live with the threat of it popping up somewhere else the rest of your life. Like a cruel carnival game you think you won but oh look- there it is again.
Please, whatever you do, put some damn sunscreen on, stop going to tanning beds, wear a hat, and the sun is not your friend so stop trying to party with it. And buy this book. Sara's Organized Chaos
A quick and highly readable read. Also, a nice bookend to "When Breath Becomes Air"--but Williams also shares the stories of a handful of not-so-fortunate cancer patients among her family and friends, which keeps this book from being A Tale of a Modern Medical Miracle. Immunotherapy worked for her (and how) but it still isn't an option for most cancers. I'm glad she was so fortunate--and I'm glad that she didn't keep the focus exclusively on herself and thereby give a false impression that we're on our way to "curing" "cancer."
I like to combine a durable commitment to magical thinking (wherein 'if I allow myself to think about that bad thing, it will happen' does constant battle with 'if I force myself to think about this bad thing, it can't happen because karma likes to surprise you') with sturdy, reasonable, pragmatic thoughts more characteristic of a sane adult. Actually, I don't LIKE to do that. It's just what I do. Other things I do: I try to avoid reading terrifying fiction (life is scary enough; why invent imaginary frightening things?), and I try to make myself read scary true things, reasoning that if someone had no choice but to live through that war or illness or trauma, the least I can do is not flinch from electively reading about it in a comfortable chair. This book was a challenge, with its 'gritty front lines of cancer' parts and its 'standing right on the double line confronting mortality as it hurtles towards you' parts and its stealth introduction of a central character with my sister's name who dies of the same cancer that my sister died of, but Williams has a dark humor that is made of very similar stuff to that which has always sustained me, and her writing is crisp and solid and smart and I am glad I read this book, which will undoubtedly dwell in my head as I think about care-giving and care-receiving going forward.
Williams gives great detail in telling her own story of cancer along with opening the door wide in regards to her very intimate thoughts and emotions, love, family, caregiver, friend, medical and science. Whether you have been touched by cancer directly or indirectly you’ll find Williams’ journey, experience and insight a wealth of information, educational. Her journalistic gift allows her to delve into clinical trials and cancer research without the explanation being complex or boring, she breaks it down for civilians to easily grasp. Williams participates in a clinical trial drilling the importance of breakthroughs and all the challenges associated with trials. Her positive attitude, humor, and determination helped her along the way with her survival and the profound losses she personally experienced along the way while fighting for her life. I appreciated her candor and openness. Bittersweet story with a wonderful uplifting ending for Williams.
The author has stage 4 melanoma. She is lucky to live close to Memorial Sloan Kettering in NYC. She is lucky almost beyond belief at what happens as a result. If you have cancer or are a caregiver to someone who does this is a meaningful story. Though it is cliche I will say I both laughed and cried at this book. The author's dry sense of humor and honesty make reading it easy even with the dark subject matter. What touched me most was her relationship with her friend Debbie. The only thing I think people might not like about her story is the fact that it is obvious she and her friends have money. Not everyone with cancer can afford top notch care and still have money for fabulous vacations. But that's just sour grapes on my part. (To be fair, she is in a clinical trial) Immunotherapy is giving many people hope and this book will shed some light on it.
I never thought that a book about cancer would be able to make me laugh, but this book did. I also cried a lot. I really felt like I was with her during her journey.
I think this should be required reading for all people who do research. It's important that we understand the perspective of a person going through a rough medical diagnosis before we try to recruit them into participating in a research study. It's also important for people in research administration to understand how we can try to humanize our regulations to make potential treatment more accessible to people.
I also really love that Mary Elizabeth continuously acknowledges her privilege. She is someone who had a very supportive network of friends and family, team of health care providers and research staff, and a very successful treatment as a result of her participation in the clinical trial.
Amazingy! Wonderful crisp clean, clear writing. I laughed. I cried. More of the same, laughing & crying. Learned a great deal about love, relationships, humour, Cancer in general and melanoma in particular, science, chemo, immunotherapy, and drugs with names that make no sense! Mary Elizabeth shared a journey no one wishes to take, yet far too many do. Thanks for doing so in a way that helps makes some sense of a senseless disease.
Like the author Mary Eluzabeth, I am a cancer patient with no current evidence of disease. Like her, I never say I am cancer free. I've read a lot of cancer books, and this is one of the best. She tells a compelling story of how a a cancer diagnosis changes everything, irregardless of the treatment outcome. It's an uplifting yet realistic look at the cancer landscape.
Full disclosure. I have stage 4 metastatic cancer, and there is no cure and no real treatment for me other than palliative care. I am disabled and on disability. My income is about 1500 dollars a month less than my expenses, so I am going into the hole, little by little. I was a teacher and a counselor before this, but I can't do either of those things anymore because side effects of treatment have damaged my voice and my lungs. I also have to travel hundreds of miles for all of my treatment, as my rural community cannot provide the care that I need. I have good days where I feel almost normal- but then I'll have days when I feel so weak that I'm convinced my body is shutting down and I am dying. I read this book while in my 9th straight month of chemotherapy, and I was feeling pretty gastly-- had I been feeling better, I would have rated this five stars.
This was a cancer memoir. I've read many cancer memoirs. I'd been avoiding these for a bit, because I sometimes would feel detached. My own journey has been so different. I've never experienced remission, and never known the hope of a cure or a clinical trial. I've just felt so isolated. But this memoir was different. I connected with this. It made me think, and made me once again ponder what makes a catastrophe and what makes a miracle. Ms. Williams is a fighter. Her diagnosis was also stage IV metastatic cancer, and she also has no cure. somehow, in her reports about other cancer patients, she is inclusive and respectful and embracing. Spoiler alert, she finds a clinical trial, and Immunotherapy saves her. I liked the fact that she wasn’t self pitying and that she respected the journeys of her fellow travelers— even the ones that broke her heart— It was so very relatable. I found myself wanting to talk to her. A True story of love, science, and cancer. A good book for me!
Moving, funny, heartwrenching, warm and inspiring book about living with stage 4 melanoma, participating in a clinical trial for a then-new immunotherapy drug and miraculously being “cured” and living/coping with the heartbreaking losses of a family member and close friend. Remarkable to understand and witness the enormous advances in treating a formerly fatal disease which is especially personal to me, having lost a close family member to stage 4 melanoma about 15 years before this radically new treatment approach was available. Williams conveys both the personal impact of having advanced melanoma with distant metastases, the emotional impact on herself and her loved ones, including young children, the struggles and oftentimes absurdity of being involved with a large hospital system, and her guilt and pain about her many friends and acquaintances who are not as fortunate as she is on their cancer journeys. In addition to generously snd honestly sharing her personal experience, she educates the reader in accessible language about the new field of cancer immunotherapy, clinical trials, the ethical controversies around money and big pharma and several individuals who have devoted their lives to this work. An added bonus is that the book is often laugh out loud funny and can make the reader laugh and cry in quick succession! I wasn’t expecting to like it so much, but I did. I’m so glad Williams was well enough to be able to write this remarkable book.
Here's part of what I wrote: “A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles” chronicles the way ordinary life goes on as the cancer recurs, steadily progressing until she’s invited to join an immunotherapy trial that’s successful for her, but also brings about the unexpected challenges that come with winning a treatment lottery that so many others lose.
It’s clear what the marquee miracle and catastrophe are, but in the book’s smaller moments, the good and the bad blend. One old friend disappears at the news of her cancer. But she tells the story of new friends who send their children to her door bearing a cake. It has a distinctly profane anti-cancer message spelled out in candy.
“Our moms made you something,” the 6-year-old explains. “It has a bad word on it.”
“Sometimes in life you need a bad word,” Ms. Williams responds.
Family life, treatment plans and biopsies become inseparable. First, a birthday party, next, a call announcing the return of the cancer. She walks in the door with that news, but her daughters have news of their own: They have lice.
A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles Mary Elizabeth Williams’s memoir, A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles, about her devastating bouts with malignant melanoma is equally heartbreaking and hilarious. “I’m in the waiting room in my FUCK CANCER shirt and magical butt-flattering Lululemon Groove pants, which is as close to being in my pajamas in public as I feel I can pull off.”
Her view of her cancer is unflinching and honest. She takes us into how her illness affected her marriage, her daughters, and her feelings about herself. As readers, we are with her for every scalpel incision, wound cleaning, and nauseous reaction to medication.
Williams gives us just enough science to understand the miracle of immunotherapy and how it cured her. But the larger promise in her memoir is how immunotherapy might bring a cure to those who receive a cancer diagnosis now or in the future or for those of us who might have a recurrence.
She is eloquent in her description of what melanoma gave her, which is that cancer is a terrible gift but she uses it to put her life into clear perspective. “That as I figure it, is the work of the rest of my life. And that work will never be a battle. It will instead be what it’s always been. A love story.”
This book was as sad and moving as it was educational and entertaining. I wanted to read it because I wanted to get a sense of cancer from a patient/survivor’s perspective—in a non-romanticized way, as its synopses and reviews promised. That’s exactly what I got from it. I lost my own mom to cancer, and I’ve always wondered what thoughts were going through her head all throughout her illness and treatment. I always say it was a difficult time for us, but I can only imagine how she as the patient must have felt, and I want to fully understand what she went through. Mary Elizabeth Williams, the author, is a mom herself, so I was able to get a little idea... That’s one of the things that made reading this a little difficult for me, though Miss Williams wrote about her experiences so candidly and expertly, and was able to make light of her situation whenever and wherever possible, I wanted to keep going. This book also taught me so much more about cancer, it’s history, science, and current treatment options. It’s given me a new level of understanding and acceptance of the realities of this disease.
“This is what miracles look like. It’s not fireworks. It’s waking up another day.”
As someone working on oncology trials for a small pharmaceutical company, this book was absolutely a must read. Everyone I work with knows about“ipi” and “nivo” and the wonders that they can do from research papers, but it is altogether different to hear about ipi and nivo from a patient they helped (both in recounting her experiences with treatment and life after treatment.) This book is the perspective we all need that answers the question, for me, of why work for a Pharma company on oncology drugs.
As a reader, I loved this book. It’s so deeply human I found myself laughing, crying, and cheering along with the author along her journey. In particular, reading Mary Elizabeth’s story in parallel with stories of both her friend and father in law (both of whom died from cancer) is undeniably powerful. Thank you Mary Elizabeth for sharing the intimate raw details of your life with stage 4 melanoma and writing this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.