'On Living' by Kerry Egan: A Storyholder's Loving Look at Life Lessons

I'll admit it.  For the first time in my adult life I experienced a reading slump.

Has this ever happened to you?

Slumps occur occasionally in my life, but always with other things.  I've experienced times when I didn't feel like writing (this happens often with my journals and I can always tell when I look back through them the time of year when I hit my writing slump.  The entries are sloppy or just a few lines of daily drudgery before they start to sing again with my writerly self), or I didn't have the energy to cook creative meals for dinners, or even when I lived in London, I went through a span of two weeks when I didn't feel like experiencing anything new and longed for the familiar.

But reading has always been a friend to me, and I've always lived with a stack of books at my bedside (one to four of them that I would be actively reading and one to four of them that are on deck to be read next), a pile of books on reserve at the library, a list of recommendations from friends that I keep in my journal, and a few books on the office bookshelf that I bought and want to read but will read when I get the opportunity. I have a book with me at all times just in case I'm stuck in traffic (which never happens in my life here because almost all of my driving is within a 5 minute radius from my house), or I'm at one of my daughters' activities waiting, or I have an appointment.

In my life, all down time is reading time.

For the past three months, though, not one book that I started really called to me.  I read a few that interested me, one that really creeped me out, and plenty of yoga books to inform my teaching and my own personal practice, but nothing that I really felt like curling up by the fireplace with for hours. Nothing that drove me to bed an hour early just so I could read more before falling asleep.  Nothing that took my attention away from holiday festivities or pulled me away from holiday movies on Hallmark.

Fall is usually the time of year that I hunker down with my stack-o-books, but this year, it didn't happen.  Thankfully, though, two things occurred:  1) My husband and daughters recognized that my reading life was suffering and gave me two books for Christmas.  2) My best friend let me borrow two books that she loved while we were visiting PA after Christmas.  I am happy to report that I am no longer in a reading slump and I've spent a few afternoons and evenings curled up by my fireplace during the brutal cold of Chicagoland January with my books and my pug puppy.

Balance has been restored to my life.

If you have ever gone through a reading slump, or if you are looking for a good book to read, pick up
'On Living' by Kerry Egan.  Don't let the premise scare you away, because I truly believe this is one of those books that every human being should read.  Kerry Eagan works as a hospice chaplain which means that she spends her time with people who are dying.  Sounds sad, doesn't it? It's actually quite beautiful when she recounts the stories her patients tell her.  When people are dying they strive to make meaning of the lives they lived.

In 'On Living' she recounts her work of sitting and holding space with people at the end of their lives.  She considers herself a "story holder"and how she "listen[s] to the stories that people believe have shaped their lives . . to the stories people choose to tell, and the meaning they make of those stories." Through her time as hospice chaplain she realized that every single person she has ever met has a crazy story to tell and that "every one of us will go through things that destroy our inner compass and pull the meaning out from under us."

People in Kerry's (forgive me for using her first name, but after reading this book, you will be on a first name basis with her as well) life (friends at book club, professors, and her fellow moms) have questioned what she does for a living.  Often they shy away from her sharing stories of the patients she sees, but her discovery is that the situations she witnesses, the stories people tell at the end of their life are breathtaking and sometimes even funny (one of her patients asked her to take her outside so she could feel "the wind on her pussy").  Her patients speak of regret, of hope, of angels, of demons, of shame, of forgiveness, of suffering, and mostly about their families.  All of the stories are wrapped in a warm embrace of love because Kerry approaches her job with loving intent.

I was particularly touched by the story of Ellen who in her dying focused her energy on being "loveful" and disclosed to Kerry that she needed more love in her life because she was old and dying, but she  didn't receive as much as babies and children. Because Ellen suffered from short term memory loss, she didn't remember sharing anything with Kerry or even who Kerry was after a short nap.  As Ellen questioned Kerry about her intentions in her home, Kerry put both of her hands on Ellen's cheeks and said, "'I just came to tell you that I love you so much.  And God loves you so much. You're surrounded by all the love you need.'"

It was exactly what Ellen needed to hear.

Kerry asks big questions about life in this book: How do we know what is real or what to believe? What does it mean to live in the gray instead of the black and white? Who do you believe yourself to be? How do we make meaning out of the lives we have lived? Can life be both beautiful and crushing at the same moment?

I was completely captivated from the beginning to the end of this book and I feel like I learned more about living because I read it. I'm mostly grateful that not only am I out of my reading slump, but I am also starting the year off with an amazing book to recommend to others that I believe will change the way they view life and death.  Not a bad start to 2017.

"When Breath Becomes Air": The Heartbreak of Cancer

*A note on the picture and my cat, Hamlet: Hamlet does not enjoy having his picture taken, nor does he enjoy having a book placed next to him while he is trying to sleep.  I miss my office pug, Loki, so very much with his happy energy.  He was always willing and excited about having his picture taken for this book blog.  Stay tuned! We are slated to get a pug puppy before the end of summer 2016.  Cute baby pug pictures will be forthcoming :)

"In a world of asynchronous communication, where we are so often buried in our screens, our gaze rooted to the rectangular objects buzzing in our hands, our attention consumed by ephemera, stop and experience this dialogue with my young departed colleague, now ageless and extant in memory.  Listen to Paul.  In the silences between his words, listen to what you have to say back.  Therein lies his message." quoted from the forward by Abraham Veghese in Paul Kalanithi's book "When Breath Becomes Air"

I hesitated when my good friend who always loves the same books that I do suggested that I read Paul Kalanithi's book "When Breath Becomes Air." She told me the short memoir dealt with Kalanithi's diagnosis of stage IV lung cancer when he was just about to complete his decade's worth of schooling and training and striving to become a neurosurgeon.  At the end of his journey he became a patient rather than a doctor.

Why did I hesitate?

I've been marinating in sad cancer stories for years, and I didn't know if I wanted to read another where I already knew the outcome was not favorable.  Cancer is a sad topic.  Almost everyone knows someone or has been personally affected by some sort of cancer.  My aunt died from breast cancer that came back in her lungs.  My grandmother died from pancreatic cancer.  My sister recently finished her treatments for tongue cancer (and no, she never smoked or did anything that would be considered cancer causing).  My husband's boss just finished his treatments for a rare form of leukemia.  My neighbor has cancer of the esophagus and is currently undergoing treatments.  My other neighbor's sister has brain cancer and was just told the devastating news that there is nothing else that they can try and to get her affairs in order.  My other neighbor's mother is undergoing treatment for throat cancer.  And my other neighbor just found out that her dog has cancer in his gums.

Cancer sucks.

Sometimes the signs make sense.  Behavior A caused Cancer B.  Sometimes it's the sticky finger of fate that points at an unsuspecting victim who has trouble getting up stairs, or just feels like something is off in their bodies and all of a sudden it's treatment time.

The burning away with the radiation.

 The poisoning of the body with chemotherapy.

The never ending cycle of other medicines that ward off the side effects caused by the burning and poisoning.

So, the prospect of reading the sad tale of a promising doctor whose life ended way too early at the age of 37 due to stage IV lung cancer wasn't super appealing.  I read it anyway, and just as Abraham Veghese says in the forward about the dialogue that Kalanithi presents as he wrestles with his diagnosis, the impending birth of his child, what actually gives life purpose and meaning . . . it could be anyone's story who has ever suffered from cancer or watched a love one suffer.

Being a neurosurgeon who has been on the other end of devastating diagnoses his whole professional career, his perspective goes even deeper than those with no medical background.  I know his book helped me see inside what was happening with my sister and the thoughts and feelings she must have been wrestling with as she underwent her complicated tongue surgery and subsequent 35 radiation treatments and 4 chemotherapy appointments.

The uniqueness of Kalanithi's story stems from his extraordinary writing ability and the way he presents his feelings with such unflinching honesty.

I cried.  If you read this book, there is no way not to cry.

But it's worth it to read it.

Cancer doesn't suck any less because I read this book, but the insider's perspective has helped me make sense of the process of treatment, the trial and error that needs to occur, the devastation, the ability to let go, and the hopefulness of moving on.

"A Man Called Ove": Hard on the Outside, Soft on the Inside

“Ove is fifty-nine. He drives a Saab. He’s the kind of man who points at people he doesn’t like the look of, as if they were burglars and his forefinger a policeman’s flashlight.”

We all know one curmudgeon or two in our lives.

These cantankerous individuals grumble at insignificant things that they really can't change.  Just the other day when I was at the local Jewel, I stood behind an angry older man who decided to lose his anger on the unsuspecting cashier.  He waited in line too long to buy his bottles of seltzer water and he wanted answers as to why they recently removed the self checkout aisles.  His words were condescending and rude, and he wanted very much to prove the point that he considered every employee at Jewel an idiot.

When I met the main character Ove of Swedish writer Fredrik Backman's debut novel "A Man Called Ove" I was reminded of every curmudgeon that I met while working on the farm (where they were rampant going as far as returning a quart of strawberries because they weren't juicy enough), or while I waited tables through college.  I thought of past colleagues when I was a teacher and even some family members.

Ove is the kind of man who sticks to his routine without fail.  He has black and white ideas about the types of people he likes (those who drive Saabs like he does) and those who he does not (those who are unable to back up a trailer or computer salespeople or those who drive on a on a motor vehicle prohibited street which is clearly marked or especially anyone who drives a BMW).  He walks around the neighborhood spreading more complaints than joy and everyone seems to be able to ruffle his 59 year old, cranky feathers.

But, everyone has a story to tell about how their past influenced their present day emotional status and Ove's story is one of sadness and hardship as well as love and companionship.  He grew up to be a man of principles and little compromise on his hardened belief system until he met the love of his life, Sonja, who was able to see the beautiful person that he was inside.  Their love story is full of touching moments. "People say Ove saw the world in black and white.  But she was all color.  All the color he had." Even when someone finds the perfect mate, life has a way of not turning out the way you expect it and Ove's life hardened him until his outer shell was so thick he didn't even want to go on living.

And that is where the reader meets him - when he's at the end of his rope from life's stupidity and outrage, missing Sonja's color in his life of black and white.  He would rather cease to exist than go on living.  At least that is what he believes.  When his new neighbors move in - Parvaneh (the pregnant mom), the dad (who Ove just names The Lanky One), and their two daughters - Ove's whole life begins to change.

I don't want to give away too much about this novel, because the real joy stems from the way Backman skillfully unfolds the backstory and present day story of Ove simultaneously.  At first I was irritated by Ove's unbending ways, but by the middle of the book, I couldn't wait to read more about his past and see what other circumstances would surface in the present.  Quite a few moments made me laugh out loud or smile.

And, yes.  I did shed a tear or two (maybe way more than that).  I love a good story about how even the hardest of hearts can soften (just think about how you watch The Grinch Who Stole Christmas or A Christmas Carol every single year), or how many people who seem like the grumpiest recluses are really the ones who have a history of good deeds and who are the most helpful in a crisis.

Redemption, friendship, love, a stray cat, an amazing cast of neighbors, a grumpy old man bent on ending it all, and the beauty of owning a Saab all combine to make "A Man Called Ove" one that might make you rethink your internal remarks about the crabby old men who yell at the cashiers in Jewel.  It will remind you for sure that everyone has a story to tell.