From a DLBCL Diagnosis to Chemo in a Month: Maria Got a Cancer Coach Before She Even Knew to Ask

September 29, 2026

Before Maria was diagnosed with diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL), she was told she had something else entirely. She was a 26-year-old professional dancer with Royal Caribbean Cruises in the middle of planning her wedding to her fiancé, Sam, when a period that wouldn’t stop sent her to her gynecologist. What looked like a routine fibroid removal turned into a tumor found mid-surgery. Doctors thought it was cervical cancer and that she would need an immediate hysterectomy.

Interviewed by: Taylor Scheib
Edited by: Katrina Villareal

For six days, they made peace with it together, even beginning to talk through surrogates and egg donors for the family they’d planned. Then her gynecologist called again. The pathology now confirmed a different cancer: DLBCL, a fast-growing blood cancer. The good news is she wouldn’t need the hysterectomy after all. Instead, she needed chemotherapy and quickly.

“I’ve thought about it very recently and said, ‘I had cancer.’ It still doesn’t ever hit sometimes.” That’s how Maria still describes the second cancer diagnosis in one week, each time undoing what she’d just made peace with.

Maria and her family took a beat before fully accepting the new diagnosis, and her father pushed to get her seen at Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center in Buffalo, New York. Even there, she sat through her first appointment still in denial, until her oncologist told her plainly that without treatment, she wouldn’t make it to her wedding day. Roswell also matched her with a cancer coach, someone already in survivorship from the same disease, without her having to ask.

Treatment moved fast: blood work, a positron emission tomography (PET) scan, a bone marrow biopsy that came back clear, and about two weeks of fertility preservation injections before an egg retrieval. She started R-CHOP chemotherapy the day after. An early, clear PET scan let her oncologist shorten her chemotherapy from a planned six rounds to four, though she completed all six rounds of rituximab (Rituxan) immunotherapy.

No single moment in the whole ordeal hit Maria harder than losing her hair, tied for 23 years to her identity as a performer and even written into her contracts. Sam flew home partway through treatment when his three-month visa ran out, then returned for her final infusion, the same day she rang the bell marking the end of it. They got married a week later. Today, Maria is in survivorship, still easing back into the life treatment put on hold.

Watch Maria’s video to find out more about her story key takeaways

Feeling afraid or numb is normal. Maria still says the diagnosis doesn’t ever hit sometimes. When she was told how urgent treatment was, she moved through much of it on autopilot. That’s not falling behind.
Understanding didn’t arrive all at once. Maria needed her oncologist’s blunt warning, plus a few more days after that, before her diagnosis actually sank in. If it takes you longer than one conversation too, that’s not behind schedule. That’s just how it goes. You’re not alone.
Support found her before she went looking. Roswell matched her with a cancer coach in survivorship from the same disease, without her having to ask. Having someone who’d already lived it gave Maria somewhere to take her questions, and helped her feel a little more ready instead of a lot more frozen.
Fearing what’s to come is normal. Before Maria started treatment, she was told she’d likely lose her hair. Just hearing that hit her hard because her hair was part of her career and her identity.

Maria’s Diagnosis Facts

Name: Maria D.
Age at Diagnosis:
- 26
Diagnosis:
- Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL)
Symptoms:
- Prolonged, heavy vaginal bleeding (initially attributed to menstrual issues)
- Weight gain
Treatment:
- Chemotherapy: R-CHOP

Maria D. diffuse large B-cell lymphoma DLBCL

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Transcript of Maria’s Interview

Watch Maria’s video to find out more about her story key takeaways
My life as a professional dancer before everything changed
What the excessive bleeding actually cost me, physically and professionally
Looking for answers after a DLBCL diagnosis?
Delivering the news to the person I loved most through a screen
Six days of trying not to sit with it
Having my parents while waiting for Sam
The phone call that actually named DLBCL
Feeling overwhelmed right after a DLBCL diagnosis?
Sitting in denial and snapping out of it
Losing my hair meant losing my job, or so it felt
Confirming the cancer was only in my cervix
Getting through it on autopilot
Handing control over to my care team
Putting my career and our wedding on the back burner to focus on my health
There was nothing I wish I’d been told beforehand
Losing my hair and watching it grow back

My diagnosis came so soon after I came home in March, right when I was about to start preparing to go back on a ship.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

Introducing Maria

Hi, my name is Maria, and I was diagnosed with diffuse large B-cell lymphoma in March 2026.

My life as a professional dancer before everything changed

Before my diagnosis, I had just finished one of my contracts. I’m a professional dancer for Royal Caribbean Cruises, so I spent the whole of 2025 in China, Japan, and South Korea, and I signed off at the beginning of December. I went home after being away for over a year. My then-fiancé Sam is from England, so in January, I went to see him and came back home in February.

I was getting back into the swing of preparing videos for my casting team for my next contract to work on a ship again. Then everything went downhill from there.

My job is always up in the air because my work is never guaranteed. It’s all casting. In the back of my head, I had a plan, although sometimes it doesn’t happen. The plan was that my fiancé would come home, we’d rest and settle back home a little bit, film some videos for our shoreside office, which is what we call our land-based office, send in my interest form, tell them what ships I’m interested in, hopefully be offered one of those contracts, and then go from there.

If I got a contract, I would do my wedding planning from a ship, fly home for the wedding, and then go back to finish my contract. But I didn’t even get to that point, because my diagnosis came so soon after I came home in March, right when I was about to start preparing to go back on a ship.

The symptom I almost didn’t mention to a doctor

Looking back, I don’t think I was experiencing the typical symptoms of diffuse large B-cell lymphoma. Patients usually experience night sweats and fatigue, but the primary symptom that signaled to me to go to the doctor was that I was experiencing excessive bleeding for a long time. I thought my period was very out of sync. I had traveled from China to England and then to the United States. I thought my hormones were just all over the place and my system was out of sync, so I let it go for a couple of weeks.

But when it got to the point where it was nonstop, I thought, “All right, something’s not right.” I went to my gynecologist, but I wasn’t even thinking anything of it. I thought there was just something not right with my period. Girls go through that all the time, so having very messed-up periods is not an abnormal thing. I was thinking maybe she would give me medication to try and regulate my period or change my birth control.

She found what we thought was a fibroid in my cervix. She said, “It’s very vascular. That’s what’s bleeding. We’ll go in and remove it, and it should go back to normal from there.” I had the surgery a week later, and when I woke up from the procedure, that’s when they told me that it was a tumor. Nobody saw it coming until we were in surgery, not even my gynecologist.

It seemed like my period came back and then went away, so I ignored it. And then it came back again when I was home and it didn’t stop from there.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

What the excessive bleeding actually cost me, physically and professionally

Luckily for me, my symptoms didn’t start until after I came home from my contract. We talk about it all the time. What if these symptoms started even two months earlier? I was still in China then. I didn’t have the healthcare I have back home. If I had it while I was still performing in costumes, it would have been different. But I luckily was home at that point.

When it first started, I was still in England. I wasn’t too worried yet. It seemed like my period came back and then went away, so I ignored it. And then it came back again when I was home and it didn’t stop from there. I wasn’t doing much. My fiancé was visiting me. We were chilling and getting the whole year out of our system. We were exhausted. It wasn’t too bad, but from a girl’s standpoint, a month- or two-month-long period is miserable. I was ready for it to be over. I didn’t want to wear certain clothes. It was going on for so long that it was getting annoying.

Waking up from surgery to hear the word tumor

It was such a blur. They had a little bit of a complication in the surgery because I was bleeding a lot, which could be the reason why they didn’t remove the whole tumor. They were very scared that I was going to bleed out. They only took part of it.

When I woke up, I vaguely remember my doctor. I remember waking up in the hospital room. My parents were there and my doctor was at my bedside. If you’ve ever had surgery and you’re under anesthesia, you’re not fully in tune with your senses. It should have clicked in my head at that moment that something wasn’t right, because I looked at the clock and it was hours later. I was in surgery for a lot longer than I was supposed to be. But it didn’t register in my head. She said something along the lines of, “We went in and we found out that,” and said something with the word cancer. I can’t even remember if she mentioned the word tumor or not.

She said I had a tumor; they brought in somebody else, and they diagnosed it originally as a cervical sarcoma, so I would need an immediate hysterectomy. She said all of that in the same breath. I remember crying. I don’t remember what I said at all, but it was very emotional. I was 26. I was supposed to be planning my wedding. My fiancé wasn’t with me. He was boarding a ship that day. Hearing that I needed a hysterectomy was crazy.

Looking for answers after a DLBCL diagnosis?

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I was so out of it from the anesthesia, but anybody in their 20s who heard that would get very emotional. The cancer part didn’t even hit me, but with the thought of a hysterectomy, my mind went all over the place. You think so far ahead to all of the plans you have for your future and I remember crying. I remember asking what needed to be done to get through it. Then I called my fiancé and told him.

A cancer diagnosis is always emotional, but especially for us at that point. We were about to start our lives. We were planning our wedding, talking about kids…
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

The FaceTime call that changed everything

I kicked everyone out of the room, my family and all the doctors. I was trying to hold it together. I was texting Sam beforehand and he was about to walk into pre-departure safety training. We have to do trainings on our first day, before the ship leaves the dock, or we’re not allowed to work. I told him, “Leave.” He asked why. I said, “You need to leave.” He kept asking me why, and I said, “Please just leave. I’m going to call you. Trust me. This training does not matter.” I wasn’t trying to tell him that he would be leaving the ship, but what I was getting at was that he needed to leave the training so I could call him.

I was trying to hold back my emotions before I told him. I started crying as I started saying it, and he put his hand on his face. He was shaking his head, crying, and he just kept saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” over and over. Then I gave him the rundown of what might need to happen, asked him if he could fly to me, and see if he could figure out how to get off the ship as fast as he could.

Delivering the news to the person I loved most through a screen

Everybody says it’s emotional. A cancer diagnosis is always emotional, but especially for us at that point. We were about to start our lives. We were planning our wedding, talking about kids, and working on his visa to come and live in the United States permanently. Having to say I needed a hysterectomy right away and throwing all of those plans up in the air was more emotional than I’ve ever been in my life.

I’ve never been a crazy emotional person. I don’t cry too often, but it was our two lives. I was 26 and he was 25 at the time. We felt like two kids. Hearing that your whole future is going to be different was very sad, in addition to him not being there. Before I was even given the diagnosis, after the surgery, all I wanted to do was hug him.

I always say that before the surgery even started, I had the sinking feeling that something else was going on. But I never said anything, because I thought I was being dramatic. Before the surgery, I said, “I wish Sam was here. Even though this is quick and easy, in and out, I wish he was here.” I had this sinking feeling, like I almost knew. Not having him there made it even worse, because I felt bad for him.

Then I had to text friends who I knew were on the same ship to tell them my diagnosis as well and say, “You need to look out for him.” Because it’s not just me; it’s him as well. I was worried about him going back to work on a ship in the middle of the ocean, barely even able to text me, let alone deal with thinking about this. He’s going to want to jump ship and fly to me in the next five minutes. It was a lot. It was emotionally taxing.

I stayed home and tried to let it sink in. I don’t think it ever did for a while, though.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

The six-day wait for pathology results

The timeline from my surgery to when I got the pathology was, I believe, six days, so just under a week from the surgery. Within those six days, I was pretty much doing research and breaking the news to a couple of my friends. I didn’t tell too many people right off the bat.

I was also trying to figure out how to get Sam to where I was. He was on a cruise ship out of LA, so he was in the United States, but they wouldn’t let him stay. He had to fly from LA to England, and then England to Buffalo, New York, so that took a long time. He wasn’t here by the time I got the pathology report back. They called me while I was at dinner. Once again, I had to call him with the new diagnosis and the new game plan. He finally flew to New York a couple of days after I got the new diagnosis.

Six days of trying not to sit with it

Nights were the worst. My mom’s birthday was that weekend, which I felt so bad about, but we went to a winery. My mom wanted to cancel the trip, but I said, “Mom, we’re not canceling. I need to go to a nice dinner and have a glass of wine before I can again.” I wasn’t ignoring it, but I was still trying not to let it get to me. If I stay home, it’s going to get to me.

I broke the news to my closest college friends. I’m the worst because I react with dark humor, so our entire group message was dark humor and memes. When I first thought I’d be having a hysterectomy, I said, “Will I be skinnier?” My friends’ group chat was full of dark humor, which is what I needed.

Other than that, I stayed home and tried to let it sink in. I don’t think it ever did for a while, though. I’ve thought about it very recently and said, “I had cancer.” It still doesn’t ever hit sometimes.

Having my parents while waiting for Sam

It’s super nice. Because my work involves being on ships, I’m never on land. Between contracts, I come back to my parents’ house, because there’s no point in paying rent for an apartment that I’m not in for a year. I say it all the time that I’m lucky that I was already home with them, so nothing had to change in that sense. I didn’t have to move to be near my family to get help. I was already here, which was extremely helpful. Granted, I’m here a lot longer than I expected to be, which has been different. But it has been very nice being in my parents’ house already, because they’ve been nothing but helpful and hopeful this whole time.

Thankfully, I live in Buffalo, New York, which is home to one of the best cancer centers in the country, Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center. We were so lucky to have it here.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

The phone call that actually named DLBCL

My gynecologist, who had done the original surgery, called me while I was at dinner with my dad. She called me and asked a couple of questions about symptoms I’ve been experiencing. She said, “Have you been experiencing night sweats? Aches?” I said, “Maybe night sweats, but I’ve always been a very hot sleeper, so nothing that seemed out of the norm,” and nothing else that she listed.

One typical symptom was weight loss, and I was experiencing weight gain. Now, come to find out, it was in my cervix, my hormones, all of that. But I didn’t have the typical symptoms. She asked me those questions and said, “All right, because pathology just contacted me, and it looks like they can confirm now, for sure, that this is DLBCL.” Then she told me a little bit about what I would need. She said, “You don’t need a hysterectomy anymore, but you’re going to have to start chemotherapy right away, though.”

Bless her. She’s a great gynecologist, so from her standpoint, hearing that her patient no longer needs to get a hysterectomy was the best news ever. Looking back, getting a hysterectomy would have been awful at that point in my life. But in the moment, I broke down in tears because, for six days, I had accepted the original diagnosis. Sam and I had already had chats about what we’d do, like get surrogates, egg donors, or adopt. I had accepted the fact that I was going to be doing that surgery and then maybe it would be over.

With the new diagnosis, it was a whole different thing. I’m going to go through harsh chemo. I’m going to lose my hair. I’m going to have all these side effects. It was a whirlwind of emotions hearing all that. Not that any diagnosis is better than the other, but in my situation and how my treatment panned out, it worked out timing-wise perfectly with what’s happening. If I’d had a hysterectomy with the other diagnosis, who knows? Maybe I still would have needed chemo and I wouldn’t have a uterus anymore.

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But in the moment, it’s hard to think that way. It was just devastating getting this new diagnosis. Nobody spoke about chemotherapy with my original diagnosis, so I didn’t know if I would have needed it or not. It was a very sad time. I was bawling my eyes out in a restaurant lobby. Once again, I’m crying my eyes out, telling them the news.

Finding the right care team for a diagnosis no one expected

My gynecologist, surgeon, and another surgical specialist had set me up with a doctor to see about this new diagnosis. But my family and I wanted to be sure this time, because the treatments were on two ends of the spectrum. A very invasive surgery and very harsh chemotherapy are two very different things. Maybe I was in a little bit of denial. I said, “No, I want to be sure.”

Thankfully, I live in Buffalo, New York, which is home to one of the best cancer centers in the country, Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center. I never thought twice about Roswell. You know about it, grew up doing fundraisers for it and volunteering for events, and know it’s there.

My dad immediately said, “We’re going to take you to Roswell.” He had connections. They got me in immediately. They got my pathology and confirmed it, and I got a lymphoma oncologist. My dad was the one who said, “No, you’re going to Roswell now. We’re going to do this right.”

I was still in denial. Then she said, ‘Without treatment, you won’t make it to your wedding day,’ and that snapped me out of it a little bit.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

Sitting in denial and snapping out of it

I sat in a little bit of denial at my first appointment at Roswell. Coming out of the denial stage came a little bit after that. At my first oncology appointment, my oncologist was giving me the rundown on the chemo, the side effects, and the timeline. I had gone into the appointment still in denial, because with the original diagnosis in my head, I was getting a hysterectomy and then it was over, but now I’m learning that I was getting chemo.

Looking back, it’s so stupid. But I said, “No, I’m not doing it. I’m not doing the chemo. I’m getting married in three months. I’m not losing my hair. I’m not going to be sick. I don’t want to have no energy, be sick and ill, and hairless on my wedding day.”

It’s so stupid, but I was still in denial. Then she said, “Without treatment, you won’t make it to your wedding day,” and that snapped me out of it a little bit. When she said that, I was still in my head, but when I went home, I thought, “I guess I’m doing this. It’s happening. There’s nothing I can do. I want to live to see my wedding day and then have the rest of my life with my husband. It’s what I have to do.” So that snapped me out of it real fast.

I even said, “I’ll start the chemo the day after the wedding.” But she said, “No, you won’t make it to your wedding day if you don’t.”

Losing my hair meant losing my job, or so it felt

Honestly, being told about side effects, the possibility of hair loss was the one that hit me the hardest. To people who have never experienced cancer themselves or are someone close enough to it, they look at it and think, “It’s just hair,” and it is.

However, with my job, I’m very public-facing. I’m on a stage. I’m a dancer and a showgirl. We wear our hair down in curls. It’s my identity and how I was hired. I was hired as a long, blond, curly-haired dancer, and that’s how I’ve looked my whole life as a dancer on stage. It’s part of my job, my costume almost, and how I appear on stage. It might be different in other realms, but in my company, you maintain what you’re hired as. If you want to cut your hair or dye it, you have to get special approval.

In my head, I thought I lost my job because I’m losing my hair. It sounds crazy, but it’s my appearance. It’s part of the look and my whole identity at work. I’ve been a dancer for 23 years of my life. I’ve been this cute little blond-haired dancer and it was going to be gone. I thought, “It’s going to be a long time before I can have that back. I can’t return to the stage until it’s back again. I don’t know.”

It wasn’t just the hair. It was my career, my everything. In my head, it was a whirlwind. Everything’s up in the air, which was scary.

It all happened within a month, I would say, give or take. It was back-to-back-to-back, from scans to IVF injections to egg retrieval to chemo. It was a whirlwind.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

What came before chemo: Scans, blood work, and a bone marrow biopsy

I did blood work and all of that. But funny enough, despite it being a blood cancer, nothing would come up in my blood. Even to the day of my diagnosis, my blood work didn’t show anything unusual.

I did a PET scan and a bone marrow biopsy, because lymphoma could have bone marrow involvement. Luckily, I only had to do it once, because my bone marrow biopsy was clear, thankfully. I do not wish that on anybody. It was okay, but I wouldn’t do it again. It was awful.

Confirming the cancer was only in my cervix

After the bone marrow biopsy and the PET scan, we found out that it was only in my cervix and nowhere else, as far as a physical tumor. It’s B-cell lymphoma and your B cells are in your bloodstream, but my bone marrow was not affected. It was just the tumor in my cervix.

They said lymphoma is a little bit different; you don’t stage it per se, but if she had to stage it, it would be stage 1, because it was caught so early. She said they never ever catch DLBCL or lymphoma that early. She said, “It was barely even stage 1. It still doesn’t matter. Your treatment stays the same, but your outcome is better.”

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma is the most common subtype of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL). According to the American Cancer Society, the staging system for NHL is the Lugano classification, a modified version of the older Ann Arbor system. Staging is based on the extent of the cancer’s spread. Since symptoms vary depending on the type of lymphoma and what parts are affected, it may not cause typical lymphoma symptoms in the early stages.)

It was crazy, because I got lucky with how it presented itself in the cervix. I looked it up too. A very tiny percentage of lymphomas happen in the cervix, so it’s very, very rare, and I somehow got lucky to find it as early as I did, when that never happens.

A month from my first appointment to the first round of chemo

It was maybe a month between my first oncology appointment and when I started chemotherapy. We had to schedule the PET scans and bone marrow biopsy. They got me into all that extremely fast. I hear horror stories of people having to wait weeks and months to do the tests and then start the treatment. Granted, with DLBCL, you have to be quick, because it’s very aggressive and grows rapidly. But I was in scans, biopsies, and blood work all within the next week or so.

Roswell sent me to do IVF. I did under two weeks of IVF injections. I got lucky because within two weeks of my surgery, I was at my first appointment at Roswell and then within the next week, they had me doing the PET scan and meeting with an oncofertility specialist. Then three days later, they sent me to Buffalo IVF. They asked me when my next period was and it was ending that week, and they said, “Perfect. You can start injections tomorrow.” Timing-wise, it worked out perfectly.

I did about two weeks of injections, had my egg retrieval, and started chemo the day after. It all happened within a month, I would say, give or take. It was back-to-back-to-back, from scans to IVF injections to egg retrieval to chemo. It was a whirlwind.

I had to put my career on the back burner, which was one of the toughest things throughout this whole process… When I wasn’t in treatment, I would be at home, planning (our wedding). It was a nice distraction.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

Getting through it on autopilot

It was a blur, but I was grateful that there wasn’t a lot of time in between for me to sit in my emotions. It was next, next, next, let’s get to it, and let’s get rid of this thing. I was doing the injections every day and going to Roswell every week. Once I started chemo, I was doing follow-up blood work every week and having to do injections because my neutrophils were down. Throughout my treatment, I was sort of on autopilot just to get to the end.

Handing control over to my care team

I can only speak from my experience at Roswell, as I’m not sure how it’s done at other places and other cancer centers. From the day I became their patient, they handled everything for me. They schedule all of my appointments. I go into the app and see, “Oh, okay, I have this tomorrow. I have this next week. Great, cool.” I was laughing about it with my mom and she said, “Do you get a choice?” I said, “No, but this is your priority. They don’t ask you when to do it, because this has become your priority. It doesn’t matter what else you have going on.”

Putting my career and our wedding on the back burner to focus on my health

It was upsetting for me from a career standpoint, even more so than the wedding, because I continued to plan our wedding during treatment. But I had to put my career on the back burner, which was one of the toughest things throughout this whole process.

We have a casting team at our shoreside office. I emailed them and gave them everything. I told them my full diagnosis, what the game plan was, how long it would take to be in treatment, and what it would maybe look like. I said if I were to come out of it okay, I would love to return to my job.

They were great about it. They responded and were super generous and kind. They gave me all the good luck and told me that when I was through it to definitely reach out to them. But that was the one big thing I had to put on hold. I had to stop working completely, going from performing every day for a year straight to staying at home. I haven’t worked in nine months, which was the hardest part. I miss my job and everything.

I put the wedding planning on the back burner for a couple of weeks when I started chemo, but I picked it back up once I got into the swing of it. I said to my mom that one blessing of not working throughout treatment was that I had all the time in the world to plan the wedding. I don’t know if I would have been able to pull that off if I had been working and doing treatment. When I wasn’t in treatment, I would be at home, planning. It was a nice distraction and a nice time away from all the medical stuff.

They’re all amazing. There were things they provided me that I wouldn’t even think about.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

There was nothing I wish I’d been told beforehand

When I posted about my diagnosis, I had people who I didn’t know reach out to me saying, “Oh, do this,” or “I went through this and wasn’t told about X, Y, Z, and wasn’t told this.” But as a patient at Roswell, they handled everything.

As I mentioned, they set me up with Buffalo IVF. I never in a million years would have thought about having to do fertility preservation. I might not need it. But they handled everything.

I had so many people tell me, “Oh, I was never told that I’d lose my fertility. I was never told this, that, and the other about my side effects.” They were hands-on with whatever it may be, whether it’s preserving my fertility or getting ahead of the side effects; everything, honestly.

There wasn’t anything I wish I’d been told beforehand. Anything I figured out myself, I’m glad I wasn’t told about beforehand. I’m glad I wasn’t thinking about it beforehand. It probably would have been worse.

What a comprehensive cancer center actually provides

Being a patient at Roswell Park has been nothing but amazing in the sense that if I had to go through it, I’m glad I did it there. Everybody was incredible and on top of their game, setting me up with appointment after appointment right away, so I wasn’t waiting around. They’re incredible medically, of course.

I always told my parents and my fiancé that I believe it takes a special kind of person to work at a place like a cancer center, because they’re all amazing. There were things they provided me that I wouldn’t even think about or any other person would think about, if they’ve never experienced cancer themselves.

They have partnerships with different nonprofits around Buffalo. There’s this one nonprofit that I’ve participated in activities with called Jobs for Life™. They partner with Roswell Park’s Young Adult Program. Roswell set me up with the young adult group and they host activities all the time. I do monthly facials, spin classes, and all this stuff that I would not have gotten if I wasn’t a patient there. Roswell has a salon inside the center called Elevate Salon. I went there and they gave me two free wigs and a hat wig, all paid for by Roswell.

My fiancé surprised me when I was in treatment one day and went down to the salon to ask them to teach him how to draw on my eyebrows. I was very emotionally connected to my eyebrows more than my hair, honestly. It was those things that you don’t think about. They have a resource center where my fiancé went and sat in a massage chair. They said it’s not just for the patients, but for the families too. He walked in and asked, “Can I just sit in the massage chair in silence?” They said, “Yeah, go in,” and they shut the door.

Stuff like that, you don’t get everywhere, so it’s so nice having a center there that’s more than just the medical. They provide you with programs and support you through survivorship. Now I’m into the survivorship end of things, and I’m getting emails about programs and things they’re hosting for survivorship.

It’s great. It’s made this experience not as stressful, because it’s already a stressful time. Probably the most stressful you could ever go through in your life. They take away all of the extra angst about things you don’t even think about because of what they provide. Having a comprehensive cancer center dedicated to that is awesome.

Sam was the person I talked to about everything. I don’t keep anything from him, so he was my biggest sounding board.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

My DLBCL treatment timeline, cutting chemo short, and ringing the bell

Sam got here the day before my very first appointment at Roswell, so he was here from the day I started. Unfortunately, he’s English, so his visa only lasts three months. He left right before the three months were up, which put me right after my third chemo. The reason he was okay with leaving was that I’d done a PET scan after my second round of chemo.

For R-CHOP, the chemo is usually six rounds, and they do a PET scan after three. But my doctor had an inkling that I would be able to cut my chemo short because of how fast we caught it, so she moved the PET scan up to after the second round, and it was clear. (EDITOR’S NOTE: R-CHOP is usually given for six cycles, but the number of cycles needed depends on the individual diagnosis and doctor’s recommendation.)

I only did two more rounds of chemo instead of four. I was supposed to do six, but I did four total. After my third round of chemo, we knew at that point that it was just maintenance, and I was good. I told Sam, “I’m okay. One of us needs to be working. Go back and work for a little bit before the wedding. I got it. I’m almost done.”

He came back for my last infusion. I did four rounds of chemo, but I still did the full six rounds of immunotherapy. I had rituximab for two extra rounds, so he flew back for that. That was the day I rang the bell. Then we got married a week later.

The people I leaned on

At the beginning, honestly, it was tough with my family. I don’t know if it’s because I’m around them all the time. I would talk to them about it, but I don’t get emotional with my family, so Sam was the person I talked to about everything. I don’t keep anything from him, so he was my biggest sounding board. I was also talking to my three close friends from college and they were very helpful.

Roswell’s Young Adult Program has cancer coaches, so I signed up for one. They try to get as many cancer coaches as they can, for all ages. They try to match you with somebody with the closest diagnosis they can and the closest age.

They matched me with somebody who was in survivorship, out of treatment for a while, and who could help out somebody going through something similar. I had a young adult cancer coach who also had lymphoma, which was nice.

I didn’t speak to her every single day, but in the beginning, I reached out to her and she was my sounding board. Talking with somebody who went through it quite literally exactly herself was very helpful.

Nobody can understand what it’s like to go through what you’re going through, even somebody with the exact same diagnosis. They don’t live the same life as you.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

What I’d tell someone who just got a cancer diagnosis

I don’t want to say it’s going to be okay, like how all people say. Not knowing the outcome is scary and you don’t know what it’s going to be like. I pray that it’s going to turn out okay, as it did for me. But I would probably say: It’s okay to go through it with a smile. It’s okay to go through it with a frown. And it’s okay to feel 500 different emotions in the span of two days. I did. It’s okay to not be yourself or be extra yourself during the process.

Nobody can understand what it’s like to go through what you’re going through, even somebody with the exact same diagnosis. They don’t live the same life as you. A cancer diagnosis affects everybody differently. It’s something I had to keep telling myself. There’s a day when a lot of people are texting me and I don’t feel like texting them back, and that’s okay. But then the next day, I’m smiling and want to go to dinner, and that’s okay too.

You are probably having the craziest whirlwind in your life and some people will never understand. You have to give yourself grace. Focus on yourself and yourself only.

Losing my hair and watching it grow back

I have a short video of my mom shaving off my hair. Losing my hair was one of the hardest parts for me to grasp.

I spoke to somebody from Roswell on the phone who gave me the whole rundown of side effects before I started treatment, and they said, “We have to mention this, but sometimes people don’t lose their hair,” but it’s a small percentage. Of course, my fiancé, being the Golden Retriever boy that he is, said, “Maybe you won’t.”

After I did my first round of chemo, nothing happened. My hair fell out a little bit later. Typically, it starts to happen right away and mine took about three weeks, which didn’t help me try to hold on to it, and being in denial. (EDITOR’S NOTE: According to Cleveland Clinic, hair loss is one of the most common side effects from chemotherapy, with most people noticing it within three weeks of the first infusion.)

When it started, I noticed it one day when I was brushing my hair. It started coming out as a bunch of strands. Then it happened quickly. It became painful and was coming out in chunks. I don’t recommend this for anybody else, so don’t do what I did. As soon as it started to shed, I put my hair in a ponytail and didn’t touch it for a few days. I slept in it because I was in denial and didn’t want to deal with it. That was not a good idea.

When I took it out, that’s when it started coming out in chunks. I was on the bathroom floor, bawling my eyes out, with clumps of hair on the counter. And it started to hurt badly, so I put it in a braid that was getting almost matted. Then I told my mom, “It needs to be gone now.”

It helped me in the sense that by the time I got to shaving it, I was over it, so shaving it off wasn’t as emotional as it sometimes is for other people. I was in denial for so long that when I got to the point where it hurt, I didn’t care. I wanted it off me. But I suggest that people don’t do what I did.

Being able to put the nail in the coffin at the end of my treatment and then start the rest of our lives together was the best day ever.
Maria D., Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL) Patient

I knew a girl in England who was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma a month after me, who’s a Royal Caribbean performer as well, which is crazy. She texted me that she was shedding, and I told her, “Shave it off. Just shave it off.” And she did. She cried more than I did because she didn’t hold on to it as long, but she was smiling and more accepting of it after. I definitely recommend not doing what I did.

I went to Pilates that night with no wig, no hat, nothing. My family was so shocked. I was shocked. Not that I would be hiding, but I thought I’d wear scarves, hats, or a wig right away. But once it was gone, I realized, “You know what, who cares? I have cancer. Who cares? I’m fighting for my life.” I told my mom, “If anything, people are actually being nicer to me than they would be in general.” Shaving off actually was a relief, at that point.

Now it’s growing back. It’s crazy. I lived in it bald and accepted it, but it’s nice to finally see it coming back. I’m going to be with short hair for a while, which is crazy, but it’s a relief to know that I’m out of it. Even after I finished the last infusion, I was still bald for a while. I had no eyebrows, no eyelashes, and no hair, and still felt a bit sick. As soon as my eyebrows came back, my eyelashes came back, and my hair started growing, I finally didn’t feel like I was in it. I was finally able to get past it and move on a little bit.

Our wedding day

It was the best day ever, honestly. I know everybody’s wedding is probably their best day ever, but especially in this sense, it was extra special. It was in everybody’s speech. They had to mention it, because going through cancer was a true testament to our relationship, especially being long-distance. Getting to that day, with my dress on, a wig on, a smile on our faces, and finally out of it was extra special.

Everybody in the room was there for us. Being able to put the nail in the coffin at the end of my treatment and then start the rest of our lives together was the best day ever. Everybody says it, I know they do, but it was a good day.

I don’t get emotional, but when we did our vows and it came to the part of “in sickness and in health,” we had to take a pause. Sam and I looked at each other and almost cried right there at the altar. We made it.

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This interview has been edited for clarity and length. The views and opinions expressed in this interview do not necessarily reflect those of The Patient Story. This content does not replace professional medical advice.

Thank you for sharing your story, Maria!