Announcements, Book Announcements, Book Funnel, caregiving, poetry

When Cancer Enters the Family

When someone you love is diagnosed with late-stage cancer, language shifts.

Ordinary words—appointment, waiting room, prognosis—take on new gravity. Time bends. Conversations sharpen. Silences grow louder.

In Cancer Courts My Mother, LindaAnn LoSchiavo transforms that altered landscape into poetry that is intimate, unsparing, and profoundly human.


When Cancer Enters the Family

This is not a clinical account of illness.

It is a daughter’s reckoning.

A caregiver’s vigil.

A complicated love story between mother and child—layered with devotion, resentment, memory, humor, and the quiet tenderness that surfaces when the end approaches.

Across 25 poems, LoSchiavo gives voice to:

  • The exhaustion of caregiving
  • The ache of unresolved history
  • The strange flashes of beauty inside sorrow
  • The love that refuses to leave

Her poems do not look away. But they also do not surrender to despair.

Instead, they ask:

What does it mean to accompany someone to the threshold?
How do we hold grief and grace in the same hand?
What remains when words fail?


Why Readers Are Saying Yes

Readers and reviewers have described the collection as:

  • “Candid and unflinching.”
  • “A testament to complicated love.”
  • “Tender without sentimentality.”
  • “A lyrical exploration of resilience.”

The poems resonate because they speak to universal themes—loss, reconciliation, anger, hope, and the stubborn persistence of love—even as they remain deeply personal.

If you have ever:

  • Managed medications and memories
  • Struggled with unfinished conversations
  • Loved someone through decline

You will recognize yourself here.


A Voice of Candor and Grace

LindaAnn LoSchiavo writes with clarity and restraint. Her lines are spare yet resonant. Her images—closets, gardens, corridors, dance-like metaphors of movement and stillness—carry emotional weight without excess.

There is sorrow here.

But also wit.

There is anger.

But also forgiveness.

And, perhaps most powerfully, there is presence.


Receive a Free Sample

If you’re curious about the emotional depth and artistry of this collection, we invite you to experience it for yourself.

Read a free sample of Cancer Courts My Mother and step into a poetic journey that honors both the fragility and the fierce beauty of love at the edge of loss.

✨ Inside the sample, you’ll discover:

  • Selected poems from the collection
  • A glimpse of LoSchiavo’s lyrical voice
  • An intimate portrait of caregiving and connection

Let these poems accompany you—whether you are navigating illness, remembering someone you’ve lost, or simply seeking language for the complexities of love.

Get your free sample now and begin reading today.


Because sometimes poetry says what prose cannot.

And sometimes, when everything feels uncertain, a poem is the one steady thing left to hold.

View more at https://www.prolificpulse.com/lindaannloschiavo

non-fiction, Personal Essay, poetry, Senior Health

World Cancer Day – February 4, 2026

Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

As we enter World Cancer Day, how I wish this were a topic that we could just sweep under the carpet. Unfortunately, when faced with cancer, it’s unavoidable. It will not bring out a Pollyanna in me. It has had too strong an effect on my family and friends.

Therefore, pausing for thought for one full day becomes significant. What has cancer done to change our lives? What losses have we experienced? Is there any year that passes without your considering cancer as a potential cause for an ill feeling?

Cancer is sneaky. It worms its way into the body without invitation. I mean, last time I checked, I don’t recall asking it to visit my family members, yet here it came and did not want to leave. My sister had lung cancer. She had not smoked for years, realizing it was not serving her a purpose more important than life. Hearing she possessed this was unexpected.

Yes, it responded to treatment, including partial lung removal, chemotherapy, and radiation therapy. Despite all she went through, she had a positive demeanor, believing in believing. Technically, the treatment cured her. Her doctor told her it would be something else that would take her, not cancer. She could travel to Alaska from our home in North Carolina and spend time with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. For this, I am grateful. And I cherish the time we had together before she moved to Alaska. She ended up with a few short years before she passed away. Her heart had spent enough time on earth.

Has cancer affected you? What is your story?

As a caregiver for more than one cancer patient, I wrote this poem, based on personal experience.

Hearts to Hands

As you lay in the hospital bed I was lost.

You were jaundiced, dying, and needing care.

You looked into my eyes:

“my feet are cold”

Gently placing my hands on your feet,

feeling the thin parchment like skin,

and observing the golden glow of jaundice.

Mixing Vaseline with hospital lotion,

then warming the mixture in my hands.

Massaging your soles, arches,

and rounding to the dorsum

such warm flows, energy exchanges.

Stretching each toe, kneading the pads, some pop.

Our smiling eyes connect as softness pervades.

Warming your fuzzy slippers on the heater,

scrunching and easing them on your warm, softened feet.

Just standing with hands on your covered feet,

having a private moment,

energy pouring from my hands and exchanging hearts.

How I wish that moment would heal you.

Even if a new day meant another treatment.

Each day is the chance to show you how much I love you.

I do and you love me too.

Words did not have to be said.

I knew it when you looked at me and said,

“my feet are cold.”

Previously published in Fine Lines Literary Journal

The Cardinal is a sign of hope and love from beyond. This picture was drawn by Kayla Wygal and included in the coloring pages of Caring for Souls.

As depicted in this video, cancer is life “the thief in the night.” I would encourage you to view this and reflect.

TTOT

Ten Things of Thankful 1-26-2026

My mother Thelma Laverne Hall Tomey in 1977 and my sister Paula Annette Tomey Allen holding a painting by my niece Kayla Doiron Wygal

It’s TTOT time and it would be unforgivable to myself to skip past this month. It’s a month of months and especially special to me as it’s my mother’s birthday month. Although she crossed over several long years ago, she lives in my heart every single day. It is also the month that my sister crossed over too soon. It is most fitting to place them side by side in this image window.

My sister, being four years my senior, took it to her responsibility to mother me, especially after mom passed away. Paula and I were always close, even when we weren’t, and loved each other as sisters do. Mom taught me about the life of a kind, sensitive soul who always put others before herself. She didn’t do so with words, although her storytelling was to be admired, especially the humorous stories, she moreso did this with examples. There were times, especially later in her life, when mom would have been crying over someone she was concerend about. We would talk it over and connect with the tenderness she held in her heart. I am most grateful for both of these women and wish I could sit with them. To be honest, though, I have talked to both of them since they have gone – not face to face, by spirit to spirit. When alone, my words may slip from my mouth. It’s my time to share with them and I hold it as precious. I do this with others, as well, but these two are my focus today.

Mom always like the colors of green and gold. She’s wearing a gold dress in this photo which means she was going somewhere special. It was likely that she was going out dancing with daddy. They danced often and were reminiscent of famous ballroom dancers. Daddy always said that it was mom who took the prize for dancing and he followed her lead. I am grateful that we got to go dancing with them, espcially at the NCO club on family dinner night. I did not inherit these ballroom dancing skills, but could cut a pretty good, fast dance rug. How I wish mom would have been a cancer survivor and lived longer. I am grateful for the time we had and to be able to be present.

The striped dress meant I was going to the NCO club with my siblings and parents. The shorts picture was when I was about 13 and goofing around dancing in the living room. I am pretty sure that my sister was taking the picture and likely dancing with me. The what would have been me in a red dress that belonged to my sister, was my first Valentine’s dance in 7th grade. I had a computer selected date from a fund raising event at the junior high. While I was matched and was supposed to meet him at the dance, he showed up with his own date. While I didn’t like the idea, I was relieved. I danced up a storm, so to speak, taking over the dance floor in the twist contest. I suppose that I learned early in life, that dancing it off was the way to go. I am grateful for the attitude that saved my embarrassment. Fun fact: My sister styled my hair and put makeup on me. We dyed her red dress to make it even more red. From vigorous dancing, I came home with red on the white blouse, under my arms. Another event to laugh off.

November 2013 Paula and Lisa at the hair salon. We had to get a picture with our fresh dos. It was a couple of years later when we would last see each other. I am grateful that we had this time together. Although we had the cancer challenge (she never wanted it called a battle but a belief that cancer would take a flight away) it did mean spending time together we may not otherwise have had. The cancer did go away. And I am grateful for the time we had.

That’s what I have for TTOT time this week. Blessings and Peace to you all.

Just a side note: This is Cancer Talk Week

/

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter
https://fresh.inlinkz.com/js/widget/load.js?id=c0efdbe6b4add43dd7ef