Katie, Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma

My story with cancer began in 2008.

I was 24 years old, enjoying life after college, getting settled in my career, and dating a wonderful guy I had met in college. Life was good—and then, seemingly overnight, everything turned upside down.

What doctors initially thought was a torn ACL from being young and active turned out to be an aggressive form of B-cell non-Hodgkin lymphoma: diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL).

Being told I had cancer and would need chemotherapy and radiation was one of the scariest things I could imagine. But I did it. I fought hard and made it through treatment.

And somewhere in the middle of all that fear, something beautiful happened: my amazing boyfriend proposed to me while I was bald from chemotherapy. He’s now my husband.

After treatment, life moved forward in ways I once wasn’t sure would be possible. We got married. We had two beautiful boys—conceived naturally, against the odds. We moved across the country. We built a life together.

Life was so good.

Eventually, cancer became just a tiny part of my story. It felt far away, safely tucked into the rearview mirror.

Then came 2024.

I was in my early 40s, living in the suburbs of Chicago with my husband and our two amazing boys, then 10 and 13. I was busy keeping up with them and doing what I love to do as their mom—diving headfirst into whatever they were interested in.

Then I crashed on my mountain bike.

After months of lingering hip pain, I finally made an appointment to make sure I hadn’t seriously hurt myself. As it turned out, I had torn the labrum in my hip.

But they found something else, too.

Swollen lymph nodes.

My enemy.

After everything I had been through, those words immediately sent chills down my spine. My doctors decided to do a biopsy, and soon I heard the three words no one ever wants to hear—especially after believing cancer was nearly two decades behind you:

You have cancer.

This time was different.

At 25, cancer was terrifying. But facing it again in my 40s, as a wife and the mother of two boys, brought a completely different kind of fear. It was debilitating at times. I experienced my first panic attacks and anxiety so intense that I had a hard time breathing at times. The news was crushing for all of us as we waited for the official diagnosis.

Follicular lymphoma.

And then came another reality I wasn’t prepared for: there is currently no cure.

WHAT? No cure?

The first time around, I had faced DLBCL, gone through treatment, and eventually put cancer behind me. Now I was being told I had a cancer I would have to learn to live with.

I’m still not sure I’ve completely wrapped my brain around that. Maybe part of me doesn’t want to. Maybe that’s a defense mechanism. It’s difficult to make sense of how cancer could possibly be part of my story again.

But this diagnosis has also given me something: perspective.

It has taught me to live each day to the fullest.

Take the trips.

Enjoy the small things.

Never take any of it for granted.

Throughout both of my experiences with cancer, I’ve met incredible doctors and nurses, and through my follicular lymphoma diagnosis, I’ve had the opportunity to connect with others in this community and attend a Follicular Lymphoma Foundation meeting in New York City.

I’ve learned that getting involved gives me hope instead of fear.

That is something I want to share with anyone facing a cancer diagnosis: use the fear. Turn it into something meaningful. Learn. Get involved. Help someone else through their journey when you can. Put faith in your care team, and allow yourself to appreciate the different perspective this diagnosis can give you.

I would never have chosen cancer to be part of my story—not at 25 and certainly not again in my 40s. And I’m still learning what it means to live with a disease that may always be part of my life.

But cancer does not get to be my whole story.

My story is also about the college boyfriend who proposed when I was bald and became my husband. It’s about the two boys we weren’t sure we’d ever be able to have. It’s about family adventures, trips, ordinary days, laughter, and all the beautiful little moments that make up a life.

So I’m going to keep living mine.

Take the trip. Say yes. Love your people. Appreciate the ordinary days. And live every single moment.