When my mother was diagnosed with cancer nine years ago, I naively thought that her shocking announcement (delivered calmly by telephone) was the worst of it: both my parents are medical professionals so I assumed that my mother would receive the best care available.

But the impact of her unsettling news paled in comparison with what followed: her treatment and subsequent recovery took a far heavier toll on our family. Neither she nor we were prepared for any of the side effects of radiation and chemotherapy; her fingernails and hair fell out, her tiny face swelled like a balloon, and the inside of her mouth blistered. For a time, it seemed that the cure for cancer was far worse than the initial diagnosis.

Compounding our crisis was the utter lack of resources. We were given some dry, factual pamphlets but no practical literature on coping and living with cancer. As it turns out, our experience was not unique. In An Unexpected Journey: Women’s Voices of Hope after Breast Cancer, the majority of the 12 women profiled, including author Aniko Galambos, recount very similar experiences.

Galambos’ frustration began with her own diagnosis of breast cancer at age 46. Receiving little explanation or compassion from the medical staff during surgery to remove three lumps from her breast, Galambos sent her husband off to the bookstore.

Yet when he returned to the hospital with every book available on the topic, Galambos’ exasperation only grew: none dealt with the devastation and helplessness she was feeling. And so Galambos was inspired to “write the book that my husband hadn’t brought me in the hospital.”

An Unexpected Journey resonates with the power of the tremendous personal journeys that all of the women embarked upon after being diagnosed with breast cancer. Many did not know whether they would live. Virtually all reached the same conclusion: there is no one effective treatment – it’s up to the individual (and friends and family) to gather information and make informed decisions about their care.

The women, from all walks of life (including a nun, a single mother, and a new immigrant), underwent significant lifestyle changes, re-examining their diet, exercise, relationships, spirituality, and jobs.

There is a strong emphasis throughout the book on survival, hope, and triumph. Most remarkable is that Galambos wrote all 12 chapters, each capturing the unique voice of the woman profiled. That each rings so true is a testament to Galambos’ skill as a writer. For anyone who has cancer or knows someone suffering from cancer (breast or other), this is an invaluable book: I wish it had been available when I needed it.

Living in the Postmastectomy Body: Learning to Live in and Love Your Body Again also deals with recovery from breast cancer, but Becky Zuckweiler takes a decidedly different approach. Aside from the specialized focus – coping with having one or both breasts removed – Living in the Postmastectomy Body is much more of a practical manual, complete with a glossary of terms, an index, and a listing of further resources.

Zuckweiler, a psychiatric nurse, had a preventive double mastectomy 13 years ago because of the high incidence of breast cancer in her family. At the time, she had silicone implants put in. When the silicone risk came to light and she had them removed, Zuckweiler began searching for ways to cope with her newly breastless body. But like Galambos, she found nothing, thus providing the seeds for her book.

Zuckweiler deals with issues in an honest, no holds barred manner. On choosing a prosthesis (a fake breast), for example, she details what is available on the market, how each works, and the pros and cons of different models. To her credit, she goes one step further and offers advice on what to do when you can’t find the right prosthesis: “I realized why I had saved all those spare shoulder pads over the years. …I ended up cutting some shoulder pads to the same shape as the nylon prosthesis shell, and found that they worked very well combined with some of the filler material.”

As a mastectomy guide, this is an excellent resource. Topics covered range from preparing for surgery, dressings, and aftercare to stages of grief, phantom pain, depression, recovery, sex and intimacy, and breast reconstruction. The useful maxims in the margins are a thoughtful final touch, for example, “it is not a sign of weakness to need some help with your emotional recovery after a mastectomy.”

The mind-body connection is the theme of A Change of Heart: Helping Those with Heart Disease Make a Full Recovery in Both Body and Mind by cardiac psychiatrist Brian Baker and cardiologist Paul Dorian.

Presented as recreated discussions between patients and doctors, A Change of Heart carefully explains all the terms, symptoms, and steps to recovery relating to heart disease. Indeed, the book’s strength is its simplified explanations and optimistic tone: “Fortunately, over 90 per cent of patients admitted to hospital with an acute heart attack survive without major complications, and often are hospitalized for only five to seven days.”

A Change of Heart is excessively wordy, however, and long disclaimers to the effect that the authors are not responsible for the reader’s misuse of their book and one should always consult the attending physician make it difficult to keep sight of the authors’ point. The dialogue is occasionally awkward, and the accompanying diagrams serve no discernible purpose. For example, an illustration of an arrow entering a black ball and causing an explosion is labelled “impact of event.”

Braving the Void: Journeys into Healing by Victoria doctor Michael Greenwood delves the deepest into the mind-body connection, focusing on what the body – through physical pain – is trying to tell the mind. Greenwood, who worked as a family practice physician for17 years, decided to devote himself to patients with chronic illness after questioning the limitations of conventional medicine.

Using case studies, Greenwood explores the spiritual and psychic realm of illness or “dis-ease” as he refers to it. For example, one of his patients is Joe, a pack-a-day smoker, who is frequently ill with chest infections. Instead of prescribing Joe with yet another round of antibiotics, Greenwood looks at why Joe continues to smoke. The underlying cause is actually the anxiety that Joe keeps at bay by self-medicating himself with tobacco. Dealing with the source of Joe’s anxiety is the key to curing his recurrent chest infections.

Conventional medicine, often in the form of pills, can mask a problem, rather than treat the underlying cause, says Greenwood. While this is a sensible, holistic approach, and Greenwood does advocate using both conventional and non-conventional medicine, there is the danger of reading too much into his approach. Suggesting that one may contract cancer because of other unresolved personal issues sounds downright cruel to me, and certainly wouldn’t have helped my mother deal with her diagnosis.