An honest and brave book, with bits of dappled, personal humor. Amy Mangan has opened herself up and written something about persevering through life's storms, which came to her one after another, and another, and another. Intensely personal and real; overall, I enjoyed this book. If I could sum up the book's essence, I would say, "Someone, somewhere, once told me, 'God only gives you what you can handle!'... Well, it turns out that God's estimation of what I can handle and mine are, um, a disparate matter..."
Now that said, there were two things that kind of bothered me. First, the deeper meaning imparted by the author gets a little muddled. Somehow, all the trials just seemed to work themselves out thanks to personal strength, perseverance, and a heaping helping of love from family and friends. The book ends, and we're left with the image of a loving sitcom family. I applaud her candor and willingness to open up about the tremendous challenges she had to face, but please understand that I have a child who has had seizures since he was a baby, and he was also a patient of Dr. Carney's. Her vivid description of what it's like having a child with a severe medical malady was really poignant, but the end result seemed to be that "thanks to our friends and our family's intense love, we got through it, and everything is fine now.".. It just struck as hollow somehow. For me (and this is JUST MY OPINION BASED UPON MY EXPERIENCE OF HAVING A CHILD WITH INTRACTABLE SEIZURES FOR DECADES... I realize we all deal with life's trials differently!), I had to turn to greater, more philosophical approaches to life (i.e., GOD), because the trials my family faced were too big for me, my awesome friends, or even my ideal marriage. We got through it, but we all had to look for something far greater than just the people in our lives to make things better. It was just too big. Again, I'm coming at this from my own experience (two decades of seizures with my son)... I just was hoping for something more philosophical or spiritual; I realize I'm biased because this is what got me through my challenges. I just came away feeling kind of depressed. If our trials are all to be overcome by merely having plenty of friends and loving family, that's somehow a terribly depressing thought... What if your family sucks? What if you're introverted, or new to town?... I did love the parts of the book where her trials seemed to magnify the point that "trials suck, but they can also be a "bad-people filter" and a great reason to let go of the meaningless people/stuff that we once worried about". I appreciated her anger at the CEO of Merrill Lynch, and CAN TOTALLY RELATE, only my anger was at specific politicians who contributed to the splintering of my family's healthcare (and later, my hubby's job); I CAN TOTALLY RELATE. I like how she resolved this matter and decided to let go. If I knew the author, I'm sure we would have a great deal to talk about. There were moments when I wanted to reach out and hug her, coming from a corner of total empathy. Having one child with a severe medical malady (let alone TWO!) is hell on earth for a parent. That, combined with devastating financial storms (we've had those, too), is beyond miserable! For some reason, I was just hoping for a spiritual angle.
The second matter of criticism... And it's a wee, little, itty, bitty one... I wish I could've helped her with one minor editing issue; and I'M SURE IT'S JUST ME, but referring to a person who has seizures as "an epileptic" just makes me cringe. I do get it; for brevity's sake, it's easier to say "an epileptic" rather than "a person with epilepsy" or "a person with seizures".... Fewer syllables, less verbose; I really do get it... It just made me wince every time she used the word "epileptic/eplieptics" to describe people who have seizures. Aside from the term being fairly outdated, it just came off as cold and "other". Again, that's just me, likely being a crazy, hypersensitive mom of a SNiK (special needs kid) who has suffered with seizures since the late 1990s.... The author and many people everyday are adapting to the "new normal" of just having a child diagnosed with seizures, so it may be unfair to expect someone to understand that this term can come off, um, just cold. Some people with seizures are okay being called "an epileptic" and some are not (there are many online discussions about it, along with terms like "hemopheliac" or "paraplegic"!), because it can seem limiting, labeling and isolating, while connoting a sense of affliction or victimhood. I.e., "I am a PERSON, not a disease/disorder." A gentleman with seizures summed it up like this: "I prefer 'he has seizures' or 'I have epilepsy' over 'epileptic' because the term 'epileptic' is closed, and not likely to create any conversation. It's like a taboo word that people whisper. If you tell someone 'I'm epileptic,' they sort of apologize, look sorry, or embarrassed. If you tell someone 'I have seizures', they are more likely to ask, 'what meds do you take?' or 'what kind of seizures?' I don't know why this is, but if you say 'I have seizures', people seem to feel more comfortable talking about the (generally very!) uncomfortable topic of epilepsy."
In sum, if there's one word I could use to describe the book, it's "HONEST". And, having lived in Ocala since the mid-90's, I loved the local descriptions and references. Well-written and honest; overall, I would recommend the book, along with a big slice of BettyCake.