Can I Still Kiss You?: Answering Your Children's Questions About Cancer, by Neil Russell. Health Communications, Inc., Deerfield Beach, 2001. 125 pages, paperback, $8.95.
As a producer of action films in the Jerry Bruckheimer vein, Neil Russell seems an unexpected spokesman for cancer survivors and their families. Russell is proof positive that even health-addicted, sun-drenched Hollywood is not beyond cancer's clutches, an irony that does not go unnoticed by the author. His story, though poignant, is only the backdrop for Can I Still Kiss You? Rather than add another personal testimony of an individual cancer survivor to that already voluminous and useful body of literature, Russell sets his sights on helping families survive the disease. In an age when talking to children about difficult subjects may be a lost art, explaining the impact of cancer on the family seems singularly challenging. Russell claims that talking to his children for the first time about his diagnosis was more difficult than hearing it himself, and the reader is compelled to believe him. Can I Still Kiss You? is designed as a workbook to help families begin a dialogue to help children (and parents) understand how the disease will affect and challenge their family structure.
The book's chapters are organized around a loose chronology of the diagnosis and the treatment of cancer and the questions and issues that each phase might raise with children. The questions are ostensibly those posed by children struggling with understanding what cancer is and how its presence will impact their family. The responses to the questions seem to originate from an authentic, genuine experience of living with cancer. These responses are the strength of this book and should give parents ideas about how to begin to address the questions their children will naturally have about the disease (as well as those they may not be able to articulate). The questions and responses in each chapter are followed by questions that can be answered more personally about the individual patient's experience. Space is also provided to keep a record of personalized responses and to add family mementos to the book's pages.
Luckily, Can I Still Kiss You? does not try to be more than it is. It is important to remember that this text is not, nor does it claim to be, the final answer on the subject of dealing with cancer within a family. Nor is it simply a survival story, although survival is the book's thematic keystone. It is instead a useful starting point for families, and its open-ended approach will serve to begin conversations that one would imagine are otherwise exceedingly difficult for parents to initiate. On occasion, the book can seem a little self-indulgent-Russell's including his son's college admission essay about this experience is a mawkish touch that should have been edited out. But most readers will be willing to overlook this and similar weaknesses, which occur only rarely. Aside from serving as a resource for oncologists, this books would be most helpful to school counselors, pediatricians, and any health professionals who may come into contact with a family confronting a cancer diagnosis for the first time.
As with all similar survival stories, even the most casual reader of Can I Still Kiss You? cannot help but be moved by Russell's experience with cancer, which is revealed indirectly through the stages of treatment and questions around which the book is organized. There is much to be learned from this slim volume-about the strength of family, about hope, and about the kind of openness and communication required of families to overcome the ravages of this most pernicious disease.