Its Probably Nothing...*: *Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Implants by Micki MyersDaring, sly, and unlike any other book you’ve read, this memoir-in-poems tackles cancer with a bawdy wit guaranteed to make you laugh your wig off.
WHAT TO DO WHEN CANCER STRIKES? As a vibrant woman in her late thirties, a mother of two, poet, artist, and teacher, Micki Myers decided to confront her diagnosis head on with the sharpest tools in her arsenal: namely, her sense of humor and unbridled poetic license.
The result is a charming, poignant, laugh-out-loud collection that hits all the highs (morphine) and lows (everything else) of being a cancer patient and surviving with your spirit intact (even if your boobs are not).
It’s Probably Nothing . . .* provides the perfect blend of wit and pathos to help you or a loved one achieve much-needed perspective on this frightening journey, whether recently diagnosed or reveling in remission. From losing your hair (even, ahem, down there) and gaining two bouncy silicone strangers, to the pitfalls of marijuana therapy and the endless chemo-room muzak “that makes you think / survival might be overrated,” Myers reminds you that you’re not alone and that it’s okay to laugh.
Why You Probably Don’t Need to Worry About Getting Cancer
Yes, "breast cancer worry" is a factor listed as one of the "harms" of breast cancer screening. Wait, there is more Yes, my livelihood depends on the care and screening of women, but I also care about those women, many of whom are my dear friends, long loved patients, and relatives of mine. I don't want them to end up with unnecessary biopsies, but one in eight the incidence of breast cancer is a very scary statistic. My fear is that actuarial tables analyzing benefits do not consistently reflect what is best for the individual patient. Basically, the task force analysis indicates that the acceptable number of women tested with mammogram to save one life is somewhere between for somethings and for somethings.
Together we will beat cancer
I remember the exact moment I was first hit with breast cancer anxiety. It was about 10 years ago, when I was an assistant health editor at Glamour. Like many medical reporters, I had the bad habit of suddenly imagining I had symptoms of whatever illness I happened to be researching. So one day after interviewing several young women who were battling breast cancer—women barely older than I was—I snuck off to a bathroom stall to frantically check myself for lumps. Breast cancer suddenly seemed so…imminent, and no other illness frightened me the way it did.