Blogger cites 'Rollercoaster' chapter on meds

Award-winning Texas writer, blogger calls 'Rollercoaster' honest and 'worth the read'

Maryann Miller 

Maryann Miller is a literate Texan who covers the book/literary universe on her blog, "It's Not All Gravy."

Her website lists her as an award-winning "diverse writer of columns, feature stories, short fiction, novels, screenplays and stage plays."

Among her numerous honors was being a semi-finalist at the Sundance Institute for her screenplay, "A Question of Honor."

"I've been writing all my life," she says, "and plan to die at my computer, hopefully after finishing a book, not in the middle of one."

Still very much alive, she posted a review today (Jan. 25, 2015) that recommends my VintagePress book, "Rollercoaster: How a man can survive his partner's breast cancer."

Here, in full, is what she wrote about "Rollercoaster" and me, Woody Weingarten:

Any person who has had cancer, or cared for someone with cancer, which means a whole lot of us, will find this book engaging and well worth the read. It is not meant as a caregiver’s guide, although one can take wisdom from some of the ways Woody and his wife coped with her cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment.

The book is an honest chronicle of the experience from day one, to a wonderful conclusion that is sure to make readers smile. With that honesty comes great doses of humor and the harsh reality that dealing with cancer is an all-consuming experience.

Although the book focuses in large part on the author’s reactions to the cancer roller-coaster, there are sections from the point of view of his wife, Nancy, and the reader is privy to some of her emotions, which also seem to careen wildly at times.

The chapter on medications alone is well worth the price of the book. It details the pros and cons of many medications, such as Avastin, which had been touted as a life-saving drug but lost its FDA approval in 2011.

There were so many medications that came and went that Woody wrote, “The drug debates were giving me a mental whiplash not unlike the impact of being rear ended in the middle of a seven-car crash.”

Several chapters cover the results of research over many years, much of it conflicting, as to the causes of breast cancer. In fact, the information is so varied that Woody wrote, "The causes are about as impossible to pinpoint as locating weapons of mass destruction in Iraq was.”

Some of the messages that rang out clearly for me as I read the book were:

• These feelings are normal.

• Even after successful treatment, fear is still always there.

•   While humor can definitely ease stress, anxiety can be malignant.

•   Focus on staying healthy.

•   False information is rampant.

•   Don’t wait. You can never be sure there will be a tomorrow.

I highlighted a lot of the book for future reference, and one of the lines I especially liked was, “Human hope is a wondrous thing to stash in your back pocket.”

I highly recommend this book.

Softening the impact of breast cancer chemo

Humorous photos don't appear in 'Rollercoaster' but helped couple deal with hair loss

Rhoda Draws in her studio.

Humor can help patients and caregivers cope.

So can artistic flights of fancy.

At a time when her breast cancer and chemo-induced loss of hair turned my wife, Nancy Fox, into a portrait of cheerlessness, Rhoda Draws, a painter-caricaturist-friend based in Mill Valley, California, superimposed some playfulness on half a dozen photographs.

Nancy couldn't help but smile.

Nor could I.

Nancy, digitally enhanced.

Rhoda, who's also an author and teacher, presented the re-imagined photos (aka digitally enhanced, or cyber-imaged) to Nancy as a gift.

Immediately, my wife for a while stopped mourning the loss of her shoulder length, red hair — what she describes in my new book, "Rollercoaster: How a man can survive his partner's breast cancer," as "the one part of my body that I have loved unconditionally."

None of the distinctive photos accompany my narrative. Not because Nancy doesn't appreciate them 20 years after her diagnosis and treatment, but simply because I, Woody Weingarten, didn't use any illustrations at all in the book.

Nancy used the six re-imagined, often whimsical photos on a one-page flyer she sent to friends and family members who aided her. She added this text: "Thanks for your helping hands…and your loving heart…during all my changes."

The front of our refrigerator is decorated with two of the images — on magnets. They still make us smile, every day.

And cope.

And remember the ups and downs of the past triggered by passages in "Rollercoaster."

Such as:

• "Her dread of going bald had careened off the charts. Just before turning out the lights she recalled that as a girl with braids down to her waist, she'd panicked when her mother demanded she cut them off."

• "I do wish she could consistently see herself as I do, as a beautiful creature with or without hair."

• Sadness about her missing hair — even though that loss was temporary — remained the biggie for Nancy. A year after her final treatment, she wrote in her journal that it 'was clearly the psychologically devastating part of the cancer."

• It had taken more than two years before she could look at images of her baldness…She agreed at last to put the photos of her hairless stage into two albums…[She] triggered my caregiver button: 'You and I will never see it the same way,' I replied sincerely. 'Your high cheekbones and eyes showed off better when there was no hair to look at. The fact is, you're lovely both ways.'"

Two decades after her breast cancer diagnosis, Nancy's loveliness still makes me tremble.

Even though her hair is draped around her shoulders again.