Bye-bye salsiccia talks about cooking and cancer, or more specifically (and ideally), how cooking can help us in living a life “without cancer”. It aims to contribute and spread information – (hopefully) inspiring people, healthy or not, to pay more attention to what they eat, without renouncing the pleasure of eating. But this blog is also my way of reacting to “this thing” that happened to me. It is my way of continuing to fight, every day, in the belief that this might contribute to my healing. Above all, it is a  way not to forget.

First of all – with a huge lump in my throat – I tell you that I don’t want to be forgotten. These recipes and writings might be what I leave the world, my family, and my sons in particular. If, by chance, I am no longer here in the near future, I will have left at least a few bread crumbs behind me, some short story that my sons will be able to read when they are older in the hope that these words will help them in appreciating both food and life. I am not sure the world is interested in these stories, but even if they are valuable only to the people closest to me, I feel as though it’s worth it. Secondly, I DO NOT WANT TO FORGET. I want to keep remembering every day of this “adventure”, to look at this period of my life as the most educative of my experiences. The one that made me deeply understand how beautiful life is and how important is to appreciate that beauty every day.

When I was 18 my aunt died of cancer. My dear Zia Angela. Single for a long time, beautiful, easy going, funny. I don’t remember exactly what we did together, but my heart warms when I think of her. When I saw her just before she passed away, it triggered something inside of me. Even confined to her bed, her positivity was amazing. “When I’ll feel better…” she used to say. I was struck by how the will to continue living is a sort of natural reflex that we have, despite everything. And in that moment I realized how lucky I was because… ok, my parents were getting divorced and it was not a great period of my life… but I HAD MY LIFE, I STILL HAD MY LIFE!! In this perspective, the death of my aunt had a great impact on me. 

If it’s true that the people who left us are looking at us from out there, I know that my aunt must have been disappointed when she looked at me. How is it possible that such an important consideration that was made during my youth was so easy to forget? How is it possible that I could not react to my dissatisfaction by finding peace again? How is it possible that my dissatisfaction could overshadow all the good things and people that filled my life? 

Now that one breast has been taken away from me, I don’t want to forget the little cells that endangered my life.  And as much as my greatest desire is to have all of them swept away from my body, one still remains. That little cell that – virtual or real – will continue to accompany any person who has been affected by cancer for the rest of that person’s life.  I want to tell it:

” If it’s true that you are still in my body, little cell, I’ll accept you; after all,  you’re my own creation… but remember: if you continue to sleep, we may live together still for a long time! If you set out to grow, however. you’ll be able to proliferate, but your time will be short because my end will also be your end…”