Customer Reviews

The Camera My Mother Gave Me

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

My opinions about Kaysen's books are shaped largely by the fact that I suffer from the same malady this book describes, vulvar vestibulitis, a form of vulvodynia (literally "painful vulva"). It was an overwhelming relief to read this book, to hear another woman talking about her experience with this disorder and facing many of the same challenges I have faced. Among the two largest of these are trying to talk to friends and family about a disorder that few people know about and that very few feel comfortable discussing (how many friends can you talk frankly about your genitals with? think about it) and trying to have an intimate relationship with someone when sex is painful, difficult, or downright impossible.

The book is well-written and very readable. Kaysen even manages to be funny. The novel focuses on Kaysen's personal experience, and does not claim to be a medical guide - this is what makes it an interesting read for anyone, not just those affected with vulvodynia. I disagree with Kaysen's attitudes about potential treatment (she seems to dismiss some things out of hand, in my opinion) but I'm overwhelmingly grateful to her for sharing her experience.

Some statistics say that 15% of women have some form of vulvodynia during the course of their life. If more women with vulvodynia - and more who, like Kaysen, are already in the public eye - would speak out about their experiences, the rest of us would not feel so isolated.

As in "Girl, Interrupted," Susanna Kaysen focuses her sharp camera-eye on a reality not often talked about. In "Girl, Interrupted" these realities largely centered around mental illness and definitions of such for women. In "The Camera My Mother Gave Me," the realities are vulvar disorders - causes, treatments, explanations, talking with others about it - and figuring out its meaning.

I liked this book largely because it was a very true story not just about Kaysen's life, but about many women who struggle with a vulvar disorder - be in vestibulitis (as Kaysen has), vulvodynia, lichen sclerosus - even vulvar cancer.

Women with vulvar disorders often wonder if they are alone, why hasn't there been more research in years or in decades (Kaysen and her research and medical colleagues make this point, too) - is this a reflection on mental state? or is there really a physical cause? is it a connection between the two that may exacerbate the terrible lows of the disorder? These are questions that women diagnosed with vulvar disorders grapple with.

It was also fascinating to read this book years after having read "Girl, Interrupted" - and to really empathize with her reaction when she is faced with the prospect of having to take tricyclic antidepressants or an SSRI such as Prozac. Having this thread of her autobiographies gave "The Camera My Mother Gave Me" much added weight.

My god, what a life Kaysen, the author of "Girl, Interrupted," a memoir about her teenage years in a mental institution, has had. First that and now this -- a follow-up memoir about her experiences years later with a mysterious and ultimately untreatable vaginal syndrome, the main symptom of which is unbearable and constant pain. As she struggles with the pain and her frustration over her doctors' inability to find out what is causing it, she also finds herself battling her boyfriend who has no compassion for her problem and just accuses of her not wanting to have sex with him anymore.

Again, Kaysen does not shy away from all the gory details -- including the intense emotional ups and downs that ensue. But it was really her words on chronic pain that truly affected me. The realization, for example, that, honestly, the pain itself isn't the worst part of chronic pain. The worst part is the fact that you can't ever leave it. Even when you are distracted into forgetting it's there -- it's ALWAYS THERE. And this, more than the pain itself, is what makes people with chronic pain so incredibly exhausted.

As someone in that category myself (though my pain is in my hands), I could really relate to her stories -- her guilt (is this my fault? did I do something wrong? if I don't want to try something that might help, does that mean I don't want to get better?), her frustration, her fear that it's "all in her head," and, most of all, her ultimate decision not to let it rule her life anymore. She says at one point she felt like she'd become a vagina -- a walking, talking vagina, the pain had so consumed her world. And that changed everything. That was unacceptable.

This is a short but incredibly powerful book. Great for chronic pain warriors (I prefer that to "patients" or "sufferers") who crave the validation that comes from hearing someone else articulate what you feel. And, even better, great for the friends and family of CP warriors who struggle to understand but so often just cannot. (...)

In the passage just after this one, she describes chronic pain as being like carrying an unwieldy suitcase around. It's not that the suitcase is too heavy to bear -- it's that you can't ever set it down. That's it. That's it EXACTLY. This is a marvelous book. If Kaysen is reading this: thank you.

'The camera my mother gave me' is a fabulous read about Kaysen's experience with Vestibulitis - a condition that of the vulva that is rarely spoken or written about due to its intimate nature - despite the thousands, perhaps millions of women who suffer from the disease - mostly in silence.

This book is wonderfully written in a sarcastic, witty manner that will appeal not only to people with Vulvar Pain conditions - I'd recommend it to anyone. As a fellow Vestibulitis sufferer, I related to all her experiences, especially her frustrating attempts to find the answers from various health proffesionals who lack the knowledge to treat this terrible condition - mostly due to the lack of research and the wide variety of causes and symptoms.

I must warn all Vesitbulitis/Vulvodynia sufferers NOT to seek the answers from this book!! I made that mistake. I was devasted to find that the book ends with Kaysen calling off her search for the solution and resolving to live with her condition. Although that was a perfectly suitable ending to the book, it is not the answer I was looking for. I refuse to live with this condition and will not give up until I find the cure. So, laugh and cry along with Kaysen, celebrate her courage in writing this book, be encouraged in your efforts to speak up about your condition, but turn instead to support groups for companionship along your journey. I hope more and more women will speak up and demand a better understanding of vulvar pain disorders among the medical community and the public. We need answers!

Thank you Susanna Kaysen!! I hope you are rid of this awful condition!

After 12 years, too many doctors to count, a lot of creams and injections, and two surgeries -- I understand Susanna Kaysen's story first hand. Vulvar/vaginal pain is a secret not talked about and the medical community is still mystified. This book does an excellent job of capturing the all too often insensitive and incompetent response of medical professionals. It does an excellent job of describing the mental anguish when your sexuality becomes painful and slowly dies. She deals openly and directly with the destruction that occurs in our relationships when our sexual self is no longer participating. I laughed out loud. And, I was silenced. It's been 11 years since I pondered the 45% effectiveness rate of the surgery. I'm lucky -- I placed my bet with a good surgeon and have regained my health and sexual self. However, no woman is ever the same. Thank you Susanna -- I've waited a long time to see our story in print.

What an incredible relief to read this book. I thought I was the only one who had gone through this misery. The author describes with pitch-perfect accuracy what it is like to have a medical problem no one can fix, and the annoyance you become for even a long-term, trusted doctor who can't "fix" you. I did have the surgery and experienced some improvement. But I have never discussed this with anyone other than my husband. Boy, did it feel good to read Susanna's book. It was like talking to a girlfriend.

Thank you for this book. I suffer from the same disorder as the author and reading about her going through the same things I have made me feel like I'm not alone. This disorder is very different and unlike any other "women's problem" out there because no one really knows how to treat it. I read this book in one afternoon. I couldn't put it down.

This book was awesome for me. I have the same thing that the author of this book has. It has been a terrible thing. She hits it all right on the money with the way you are treated by dr's. I have had dr.'s tell me "I was imagining the constant burning".

Very helpful to read a person's real experiences, thanks to Susanna. This condition can also affect the bladder. What helped me: two liters of water per day including half a litre of club soda, no caffeine, sugar or yeast.
These real life stories help other sufferers and medicos to understand these conditions better.

Kaysen is an excellent writer and that is why I decided to read "the Camera My Mother Gave Me." The book worries me because I am a woman - all though I do not suffer from any kind of vulva illness. My opinion is that every woman should be worried to a certain degree about "problems" that can and may occur in our lifetimes. That is why I do recommend this novel, because I now am aware of what other women may be suffering from. And what could at some point happen to me.