Praise forHUNDRED PERCENT CHANCE
Brown examines the rigors of cancer treatment in his candid debut memoir... This intimate, passionate chronicle of recovery will appeal to those whove battled cancer.
Publishers Weekly
While memoirs of surviving disease are plenty, Hundred Percent Chance stands apart through its genuine humor and unflinching portrayal of both the physical and psychological struggles that accompany a diagnosis of disease.... This memoirs focus on the tiny moments that ultimately shape and define a life, are particularly poignant and engrossing.
The BookLife Prize
Browns writing is lively and lyrical, with moments of intense description offset by humorous ones.... For those interested in seeing the toll leukemia can take on a young, healthy person, Browns account offers the details in searing prose. An intense, deftly composed cancer narrative.
Kirkus Reviews
Robert K. Brown's medical memoir Hundred Percent Chance is larger than life without trying to be.... While the content of the book is raw, brutal, and honest, it is Brown's lively, rebellious attitude and understanding that he was lucky to go into remission so quickly and to receive such excellent care that makes this book a triumph.... Hundred Percent Chance is an inspiring, provocative memoir about dealing with cancer that maintains its sense of humor when the going gets rough.
Foreword Clarion Reviews
Browns straightforward, unpretentious writing style is compelling and brutally honest. The use of present tense, first person, amplifies the effect. His wry sense of humor is both endearing and heartbreaking.... Regardless of ones personal experience with cancer or critical illness, these pages relate an essential human experience: the struggle to survive against the odds. This universal theme will resonate with almost any reader.
BlueInk Review
A realistic, in-your-face honest and down-to-earth memoir about the rigors of treating and surviving cancer, handled with both intimacy and concern.
IndieReader
Robert takes the reader inside the world of AML an unexpected journey of diagnosis, treatment, and survival of a subset of AML that he was not supposed to survive. But, he did.... Within these pages youll discover and come to understand Roberts mindset. Simply, but painfully it was: I will survive. No questioning, no heroics just, Im going to live. Hundred Percent Chance: A Memoir is an opportunity to live and feel the fear, the discouragement, the pain, the exhaustion, the struggle, the determination, the elation of surviving a monster.
Michael Copley, National Chairman, Beat AML, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
The writing is gorgeous, almost lyrical, and it captures the voice of a young man in the '90s, one filled with strength and eloquence. Hundred Percent Chance: A Memoir evokes powerful emotions in readers hope and despair, joy and frustration, love and pain but the throbbing life within the protagonist, a life that permeates the narrative, will keep readers turning the pages.
Readers Favorite
Brown has a gift for weaving life arcs in and out of his writing. He captures the urgency of an unforeseen emergency as nimbly as the grinding march of a long, degrading chemo run. Important characters in his battle are allowed to shine and then recede as people often do in our lives. His story is presented in a dynamic flow of scene and feeling rather than an abrupt hopscotch from one square to the next. Hundred Percent Chance is both honest and present in its struggle, its naivet and its determination.
Paul Miller, author ofVantage Point
Stories like these are invaluable to patients, their families, and medical care professionals because they flesh out the realities of all aspects of cancer treatment... Author Robert Brown has given the world a gift by sharing his words.
Judge, 27th Annual Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards
HUNDRED
PERCENT
CHANCE
A Memoir
Robert K. Brown
Copyright 2019 by Robert K. Brown
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please send any inquiries to info@hundredpercentchance.com.
Published by 3/3 Press
8725 Columbine Rd Unit 46362
Eden Prairie, MN 55344
ISBN 978-1-7331590-2-9
www.hundredpercentchance.com
Cover design by Melissa Williams Design
For Cindy and Anne
Trying to look cool in the midst of chemotherapy, summer 1990.
Prologue
I HAD LEUKEMIA. I had it and now I dont and that should be that. Only its not. Its a memory that wont go away. Not a haunting memory, not a slow-motion replay of a rear-end collision where you find yourself clenching your arms against the seat, looking back over your shoulder for the too-fast car that isnt there. No. Leukemia is vague with occasional flashes of coherence. It is a constant hum.
During the summer of 1992, not even two full years after my last stay in the hospital, I would be sitting on the back porch with Dad and Jane all of us sharing sections from the thick Sunday paper, arguing over who would get the comics first when a palpable memory would surprise me. I would not be expecting it, and the memories were still so fresh.
Perhaps one of my legs had fallen asleep, or the coffee had cooled slightly, a tight bitter taste. Something: a glint of sunlight reflecting off Green Lake down the hill. Anything. There would be a sudden flash in my brain, telling me that the tingling sensation was exactly the way my legs felt after those first seven weeks at the University of Washington Medical Center: emaciated, weak, thin, practically useless. They wobbled when I tried walking up the stairs after Id finally made it back home. That feeling would come crashing down around me. I would be sitting in a comfortable chair on the back porch with my parents, warm morning sun pouring through the windows, good coffee, all of that, but suddenly my legs are once again beyond weak and tired, a memory of such aching, exhausted pain.
Id stare through the newspaper. And then Id be tasting the chemo again, tasting it bad like it was during those earliest weeks. Maybe Id feel a quick rush, a hot spurt in my veins of something, I dont know what or why, and Im flat on my back again, in this claustrophobic subterranean hospital room, one of many faceless nurses standing at my side. She is pushing iodine into my bloodstream so the CAT scan images will be clearer, all because of mystery fevers out of nowhere, again and again, this time well into my final round of chemotherapy. Only now my doctors and nurses and family and everyone else are all but certain shh, dont tell anyone that the solution to the mystery is that my fevers are starting from somewhere inside my skull.
These were real. Tangible. It doesnt do them justice to simply call them memories. The colors would be so clear, the smells, the sounds, the heat in my veins, that nasty metallic taste, and then quiet fucking tears that would need to be blinked away before Dad or Jane might notice.