It seems I’ve been battling demons most of my life, so you’d think I’d developed a flair for it. Now, I have yet another demon to face – in January, I was diagnosed with Stage III uterine cancer. I spent Holy Week in the hospital, and it is not over yet.
It still seems sort of surreal. The moment you hear your doctor speak the words, “I’m afraid it’s cancer,” your whole world changes in the blink of an eye.
She said it’s curable, that hopefully it can all be removed – but who knows how much time we have? It has lent a certain urgency to the completion of my latest novel, which I had just started before receiving the diagnosis – a sequel to “The Visconti Devils.” It might be more accurate to call it a new adventure with some of the same characters. It takes place 15 years after the events of “Devils,” and the central character is Michael and Maggie’s son Gabriel.
Perhaps this novel will be my swan song, or perhaps I will be here many more years and write quite a few more. It’s in God’s hands, and you know what? I’m at peace with that.