Between Me and the River

June 29, 2009
On Halloween in 2003, Host was given terrifying news: she had carcinoid tumor, a rare and deadly form of cancer . The wife and mother of three children (then ages 10 months, 11 and 13), who is now in remission, was given a prognosis of 18 to 36 months. In this heartfelt narrative, Host attempts to simultaneously fight the disease and find peace with the possibility of death while remaining strong and hopeful. The author describes the moments of comfort and joy she receives from those around her, but she doesn't flinch from the realities of life-threatening illness. Regarding one particularly harrowing hospital stay, she recalls, “I thought I had already earned my doctorate in pain, but it turns out I was wrong.” She finds humor among the indignities cancer patients must endure, writing, for example, “I should have known that, as a mother of three, the only possible way to get 12 uninterrupted hours of sleep would be surgery.” Host's honest depiction of her personal experiences also captures the universal aspects of cancer. In one of the book's entries, dated nearly two years after her initial diagnosis, Host recounts a conversation with a stranger, a fellow train passenger: “We have that instant connection that you make with someone who has suffered the loss that cancer can bring.”

Narrator Renée Raudman honors every step that 40-year-old Carrie Host takes while coping with her rare, and generally lethal, carcinoid cancer. Raudman's delivery is halting as Host doubles over with pain that no doctor can identify. Her tone shifts to one of panic when Host hears her frightening diagnosis, leaves her three children for an operation in another city, and meets terrifying situations that make her feel adrift in a boat that's been swept into a rushing river. But Host searches for the positive in her situation, and Raudman sounds whispery and tender as the author expresses gratitude for "angels" who support her and for her husband's constancy. In the face of continued depressing developments, Raudman projects teary frustration. Happily, the voices of both author and narrator strengthen as Host begins to laugh and hope again, and to recount the startling perceptions she's learned from cancer. S.W. (c) AudioFile 2009, Portland, Maine