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Submitted by Rama Sivaram on 4 August 2020

Breast cancer survivor, a passionate patient advocate and a lover of books, Rama Sivaram writes about her love for books and how her choice of reading changed over the years and supported her through her cancer journey.  

Initial Reads

My Amma and Nayana (dad) gave me the love of books when I was barely 3years old, not that I could read, but they would read. They read out Tenalirama, Rudramma, Krishna Sudama, Krishna and Narasimha in Telugu. By 5 I was in an English school and my world revolved around Rip van Winkle and Goldilocks. The day I could string words into a line and sentence, a new world opened up for me. My dad got me the first most beautiful ‘storybook’ as we called it then. It was Grimm’s fairy tales by Grimm brothers. Then came Aesop’s fables and Hans Christian Anderson. A couple of years later I was so influenced by books of Enid Blyton that my friends and I would recreate real life midnight feasts and all. Reading my favorite book dissipated my first adolescent angst, heart aches, pain, anger and weepy feelings. Soon, pre fights and anticipation of any bad moments in academics I would hide my Enid Blyton, schoolgirl and schoolfriend comics under my pillow. As soon as my amma’s back was turned I would start reading and feel good. I did not know then reading was therapeutic for the pangs of growing up. Better still, my adolescent hormones benefitted with Sherlock Holmes of Sir, Doyle, Ms. Marple of Agatha Christie and Della Street of Gardner. There was refuge for every adolescent angst when I became a part of the plot when I was reading.

Reading as an adult

My adult years in the University were mostly spent in the library, as good as a rose garden for romancing with books and reading big tomes, sometimes secretly to impress a handsome professor or a senior. The classics and the critiques added to our self-esteem and feeling intellectual. And when in any emotional pain and rejection pouring over a book with utmost concentration stopped the tears from overflowing, stopped the heart from agitating. You know I found that reading sentimental stuff when you are emotionally low can drive you in two directions. It can either depress you or it can elevate you and make you feel like a martyr in a lost relationship. Nature has invented a fine therapy in reading a book.

 A phase comes in our busy lives when we read to relax and get out of our long tedious productive or rut days. Those were the days of hot Harold Robbins, Crichton, Archers, and impressive Pulitzers and Bookers. OH! Its so important to be up to date and belong. The social self finds a comfort similar to what the peers feel, a sense of in sync. By now, it is quite clear books and reading are the most multifaceted therapists breathing a life of their own to keep us alive virtually and physically. My son Sushil, rekindled my mood for newer children’s stories as well as the old. Russian story books, Rupert and Dr. Powderpill. Every measles, flue, tummy ache and scraped knee healed miraculously with complementary story reading.

Reading and Cancer

Life is a complete plate with our share of salt, sweet, sour and bitter. My cancer journey, like so many who go through it was painful in every dimension. We are granted permission to feel our feelings in a crisis such as this. Buddhist philosophy says suffering will be there but can be accepted and mindfully endured through reading and chanting from books, encouraging you to embrace – accept your illness and you will heal mindfully. I found inspiration in bits and pieces I read. The Hindu philosophy also recommends reading of scriptures to stay centered when the mind is agitated and restless. So does the bible of bad events, this too shall pass.

The solace found in reading is to help us stay grounded in adversity and in Psychology it is a positive and affirmative coping skill. As a health educator and counselor my own experiences of illness and love for books and reading makes me tell every patient, caregiver and others I meet, to read and also to write their feelings and read them out aloud several times to understand the layers of meanings in our thoughts. In my own journey, I would either bury my head in a book or in my dog, Leo’s soft fur, when I did not want others to see me weakening or in pain. I read a lot and enjoyed reading Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali and Emily Dickinson’s poems. They are simpler and convey profound meaning in simple words. They were very therapeutic and when there was good music in the background, I was in equipoise with myself, my cancer, my relationships and nature.

Yes, the physical touch by a caring hand, (unfortunately this damned COVID has stolen that from us at the moment) and a book to read in bed or sitting by the window or under a tree is as therapeutic as a hundred medicines.

Read Rama's review of Fragrance of a Wild Soul - by Cancer Survivor Ruby Ahluwalia

Read Geetha Paniker's review of 3 Books on Cancer that Inspire and Change Perspective 

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