I’m happy to report that, medically, nothing has changed since my last journal post on February 20th. Still killin’ it as the Happiest Rosie on Earth! I am still in my recovery phase, living life with my boys and family, meeting up with friends, and planting seeds for the future. The latter feels especially fitting as we approach the Spring season—a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, when life begins to reveal itself after months of dormancy.

I have spent a significant amount of time reflecting and turning inward.  It has really proven to help me focus, prioritize, and slow me down.  I am preparing for my next stay in Manhattan later this month.  My mom and I will leave on March 23rd and anticipate returning on March 26th. 

On March 24th, I’ll be having all new scans and bloodwork, with the exception of a PET scan—because, well, health insurance. Need I say more? It’s a love/hate relationship with scans. The anticipation and anxiety of the unknown—wondering what’s happening inside my body. It’s the HOPE that maybe the results will show no evidence of disease or a decrease in tumor volume. I’ve learned to be comfortable with results indicating STABLE.

While my doctor removed all signs of cancer from my abdomen, I still have a liver that’s encapsulated with enumerable tumors, and cancer in my spine. Thankfully, the spine has remained unchanged and stable since I was diagnosed—praise God! One of my scans includes my lungs, as my cancer is known to spread there.

I kindly ask you to continue keeping me in your prayers. I strongly believe that prayers, combined with everything I’m doing in both traditional and holistic medicine, along with being tenacious, fierce, and positive in mind, have successfully brought me this far in my cancer journey. My story is far from finished.

On the afternoon of March 25th, I will undergo a procedure to remove the stent that the doctor placed on January 19th to reroute and stop the bile leak. It may or may not require an overnight stay, depending on how the procedure goes. As with any scan or procedure, there’s always that anxiousness about the unknown and the 'what ifs.' I recently came across a quote that resonated with me: "That's the thing about 'what ifs'; they don't matter. They don't change anything. All they do is make it unable for you to heal."

I work hard to keep all the thoughts that run through my mind in perspective and focused on the present. I can’t change the past, I can only work on the present—and the future, well, that hasn’t happened yet! I look forward to putting this part of my cancer journey behind me, continuing my recovery, and closing the chapter on this challenging experience with hope and strength for the future.

While the anticipation of these upcoming scans and procedures takes up a lot of my energy, learning to manage the time spent processing my feelings around them has been key to conserving my energy for more important things in life.  I am a firm believer in allowing yourself to feel whatever is boiling to the surface, but never staying in that space for more than 24 hours. Give yourself time to navigate those emotions—talk about it, write about it, draw about it, scream about it, put yourself in timeout, retreat to nature, or sleep on it. But then, you need to compartmentalize and move forward. Notice I didn’t say 'move on,' I said 'move forward.' There’s a key difference: moving on involves ignoring, but moving forward means becoming an ally to what ails you.  It’s about management, balance, and coexisting.  

So I choose to move forward.

New York Oncology Hematology (NYOH) provides community-based cancer care and blood disorder services, and I’m fortunate to be a patient at their Amsterdam location. Dr. Lal, along with the nurses and staff, have been with me since my diagnosis. They’ve worked closely with my team at Mount Sinai to coordinate my ongoing care, which includes monthly injections, infusions, and bloodwork.

NYOH also operates a not-for-profit that offers emergency financial support to residents of the Capital District Region undergoing cancer treatment. I’ve received assistance in the past and hope to give back to them in the future.  They raise funds in various ways to financially assist patients and their families. One such event is the Courage & Cancer Evening of Stories, where cancer warriors share their personal stories on stage or have their stories featured in the event’s program brochure.

I submitted my story last year and was honored to have it chosen. It was a privilege to attend the event, and I’m thrilled to share that my writing has been chosen again for the 2025 Evening of Stories event brochure. The theme was resilience, and I submitted one of my journal entries from this Carelines page. I’m looking forward to another evening of celebrating and honoring fellow warriors.

So I choose to move forward.

I’ve been reflecting deeply on my legacy. Have you ever thought about the mark you’ll leave on this world and what you'll leave behind when you’re gone? I do, often. I know that the two greatest accomplishments of my life are my sons, Anthony and William. The hard work I put in every day is to build a legacy for them—and for the world.

I used to think of legacy as something singular or tangible, until I came across Maya Angelou’s words: "You have no idea what your legacy will be because your legacy is every life you touch." Every life you touch. Incredible, right? Your legacy is the memories forever imprinted on the hearts and minds of those you've touched. The key lies in your approach—just be a good person.

Be a good person? This reminded me of one of my recent Lenten readings.  It talked about free will, doing the right thing, and good people. “We all have a free will, but our will almost never moves toward evil seen as evil.  It moves toward an evil that we convince ourselves as good.  That’s how we trick ourselves into sin.  We all do it.  We close our minds to time-proven truths, to the wisdom of good people, to God’s Word, and we fool ourselves: ‘What we’re doing is justified.’”

I like to believe that I’m well on my way to building an honorable legacy for my children.  I am not ignorant to the fact that I will make mistakes, and my legacy may get tarnished in response to doing something that I find to be justified and right.  What is good may not always be right, and what is right may not always be good.  There is great complexity in making choices, as we navigate the bi-directional tension of life's nuances, requiring careful thought in balancing morals and ethics.  What does being a good person mean to you?

So I choose to move forward.

My grandfather has been on my mind quite a bit these last few months. (These are the pictures that I chose to publish with this post - a little 1985 and 1989 throwback). There are many angels in my life who continue to watch over me, my boys, and my family—my paternal and maternal grandparents, and my uncle. We may be a small family, but we are mighty. My dad is an only child, and my mom had one brother. I never met my maternal grandparents, as my grandmother passed away when my mom was just 18, and my grandfather died long before I was born. Their legacy lives on through the memories, stories, and pictures my mom, dad, sister, and brother share.

My paternal grandparents and maternal uncle have been a part of my life since the day I was born. Although they have all passed, they are still very much with me. They each take turns being the most prominent and significant spiritual presence when needed, guiding me through different phases of growth, understanding, and healing. The phase I am in right now calls for my grandfather’s wisdom, and with that, I joyfully shout, “Bonaventura!”

Bonaventura runs deep within my family. My paternal grandfather, Venerando—known as 'Benny'—came to America from Sicily. In short, he provided for his mother, sisters, and brother until his father could join them. He learned English, put himself through school, mastered a trade, and landed a job. He achieved the American dream by eventually owning his own business, which he named Unico Steel Products. A talented blacksmith and ironworker, he also owned another business, Bon-Vent Realty—the company that owned the building where he operated his steel business. 'Unico' means 'unique, sole, the only one' in Italian, and 'Bon-Vent' is short for Bonaventura, meaning 'good luck, good fortune' in Italian.

Bonaventura is a word that has always held great meaning in our family, and after doing a bit of research, I’ve found it to be quite ironic and wild!  Bonaventura comes from the Italian phrase 'buona ventura,' which translates to 'good fortune.' The name is also associated with St. Bonaventure, who was given this name by St. Francis of Assisi after miraculously curing him of a life-threatening condition affecting his bowels. St. Bonaventure is the patron saint of those suffering from bowel disorders. Let me say that again, in fact, let me type it again—St. Bonaventure is the patron saint of those suffering from bowel disorders.

My cancer started growing in my BOWELS, at the end of my small intestine in the ileum.  It was fully removed from my bowels on January 14, 2025.  This was absolutely mind-blowing to me!  I believe in God and higher powers. I believe in the Universe and its ability to either align or derail one's path. I believe in energy, manifestation, and portals. I deeply encourage you to look for the signs, ask for blessings, manifest your greatness, and keep your portals open.  Bonaventura!