Carla Rossi's The Living End of Cancer

Hello, Katie!

Thank you for letting me stop by your blog to celebrate the release of The Living End of Cancer, my personal memoir about my journey through non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

There’s no need to explain to anyone hanging out around here how catastrophic that “day you get the diagnosis” day really is.  So I will just share with you one of the things that happened shortly thereafter that enabled me to get battle-ready.

As I sat dumbstruck, a scripture dropped into my head and heart.  “I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”  At the time I couldn’t even remember where it was in the Bible or if I had it right, but soon I was reading the powerful declarations from Psalm 118 and realized this would be my mantra.  When

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someone asked me how I was doing, I didn’t admit to how bad I felt or gush about the horrors of chemo, I simply stood tall and said, “I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”

 

Now in complete remission, that’s what I’ve tried to do with my cancer memoir – declare the works of the Lord.  I had the right medicine at the right time with the right team of medical professionals and caregivers – and I had my faith and God’s healing hand to get me through.

The Living End of Cancer is honest and sometimes raw, but it’s also full of scripture, humor, and hope.  My intent in getting my journey on paper has always been to encourage others.  The cancer fight is not pretty, but we are not alone.

I shall not die but live, and declare the words of the Lord.  Psalm 118:17 KJV

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In April of 2010, multi-published, award-winning author Carla Rossi felt the best she ever had. That all changed with one routine doctor visit. Tossed into diagnostic tests, surgery, chemotherapy, procedures, and targeted drug therapy, Carla gives us a transparent glimpse into what the journey was really like – good and bad. With friends and family at her side, Carla takes us through the ups and downs of her non-Hodgkin lymphoma cancer journey with practical and scriptural faith, humor, and her own understanding of the medications that helped save her life.

Connect with Carla:

www.carlarossi.com 

Twitter: @carlarossiwrite

Email: carla@carlarossi.com

FB: www.facebook.com/carlarossiauthor

 

 

I'm So Mad!

Have you ever said those words? 

About three weeks after Emma was diagnosed, we were pent up in the hospital and I was going a little crazy, I admit.  Emma had lost all ability to walk/sit/stand.  She was like a very large infant.  She couldn't use the bathroom herself, and this was a HUGE source of frustration for her.  Because of this, it was a huge source of frustration for us as her parents.

We were in a bit of a unique situation, and because of that no one was telling us what was going on.  Typically when a new family arrives at St. Jude, they are given a run-down of how things go.  They are shown to their clinics, told how to "check in" at each appointment location, and educated (to some extent) on what to expect in the coming weeks.  With us, though, we were brought in under dire circumstances and put in the ICU.  Everyone's biggest concern was keeping her alive, and we were always given wonderful information regarding this aspect.  However, when she was  moved from the ICU to the regular inpatient floor, the focus changed.  Now the main focus was not keeping Emma alive, but getting her cancer into remission (which is the typical goal of everyone at St. Jude).  But we weren't new patients anymore, we had been there for nearly 3 weeks.  Everyone on the regular inpatient floor assumed we had already had the run-down--except we hadn't.  I had no answers, and I was mad about it. 

People would call, or text, and I would put on a happy face.  Inside I was boiling.  I was angry at the doctors for not letting us get out of the hospital.  I was angry at God for putting us in this situation in the first place.  And truthfully, I was angry at everyone I knew because they were going on with their lives.

Micheal was not angry.  I would ask him why, and he would shrug and tell me (in his beautifully patient way) "I've been through hard things before."  He was my rock, truly.

Five weeks into the diagnosis, Emma was finally released from the hospital and we went to "live" at the Ronald McDonald House.  My agner continued for several weeks (maybe months?).

So what's the point of this long-winded story?  How did I overcome it?  I WANTED to get over it.  Even at my own expense.  That didn't mean my problems got "fixed".  Emma still had cancer.  My life was still in upheaval.  But I didn't want to be angry, so I worked on it.  I forced myself to think about good things.  Emma's smile.  Micheal's support.  Ashlyn's sweet baby gurggles.  A hospital that was saving my daughter's life, and providing for us in the mean-time.  A support group.

If you are not (or have never faced being) angry, I want you to know that someday that will come.  We all have battles to fight.  Your "good" things will be different than mine, but trust me, they're there somewhere.  Look for them, and focus on them.  Don't have any good things?  You do, you're just not looking close enough.

It will be hard, and it will not make your problems go away--but at least you will be in a better state of mind to deal with the problems.  I wish you all well, and I hope that at least some of you will be less "angry" because of this.