Triple-negative breast cancer in COVID: Maria’s story of faith in uncertain times

It was a good instinct. Days later, Maria was referred for a mammogram and ultrasound.

“That in itself was a miracle,” she says. It was March 2020. “Everything was about to shut down for COVID, but somehow, my doctor got me in.”

Maria, a mother, grandmother, and first-grade teacher in Miami, had always been vigilant about her screenings. She had no family history of breast cancer, but dense breast tissue led her to begin annual imaging at just 24. It had never shown anything concerning until now.

By the time she returned for a biopsy, public spaces were closing. And when her doctor called with the results of invasive ductal carcinoma, stage I, triple-negative breast cancer, the world had already shut down.

A diagnosis in isolation

The timing made everything harder. Maria’s daughter (and LBBC’s Community Engagement Coordinator), Jade Lleonart Adler, had a wedding planned for just days after the shutdown. They had the dresses, the venue, the flowers, everything. But like many others, they had to postpone the happy event.

After her initial appointment, Maria prayed and reflected. At the time, thousands of people were dying every day across the globe. She held fast to her faith and her desire to walk in Jade’s wedding in October.

Her first surgeon laid out the plan: chemotherapy, followed by surgery and radiation. The tumor was small, had not reached the lymph nodes, and was considered operable. But Maria, who describes herself as a “big chicken” who doesn’t do anything alone, had to hear all of this on her own. Her husband wasn’t allowed into appointments. The hospital cancer center was nearly empty.

“That’s when it hit me,” she says. “This was going to be me and God alone.”

Taking control with informed decisions

Although she was confident in her initial care team, Maria decided to get a second opinion. A friend helped her secure an appointment at another prominent cancer center, where a new oncologist recommended adding additional drugs – potentially four in total, compared to the original drug regimen.

How would she decide? Maria was concerned that the fourth chemotherapy would be more medication than she needed. Unsure of what to do, she asked her church to pray for her, seeking clarity and guidance. Days later, her original oncologist called from home. He offered a careful explanation of research and outcomes as a rationale for staying with three drugs rather than four.

“That call felt like an answer,” Maria says. “It gave me peace to stay where I was.” She began treatment with her original healthcare team with clarity and confidence.

Managing treatment and unexpected pain

Chemotherapy began in spring 2020. Maria went to her appointments alone, masked and socially distancing, while her husband waited in the parking lot. She would stay connected to him via phone, texting him updates from her infusion chair.

She was prepared for side effects like nausea, fatigue, hair loss — all of which she experienced. What she wasn’t prepared for was an anal fissure, caused by constipation related to chemo. It was the most painful part of her treatment, and it took months to heal.

Another challenge was anemia. With a history of low iron, she worried treatment would make things worse. Her doctor prepared her for the possibility of transfusions, but after one iron infusion, her levels stayed stable. “They told me, ‘You’re the only person whose iron went up during chemo,’” she said. Referring to her religious faith and church community, she replied, “I have connections.”

Maria didn’t tell her young students nor her parents about her diagnosis. Her father was in his mid-80s and already dealing with health issues; her mother was anxious about COVID. Maria couldn’t bear the thought of adding more worry.

“I just couldn’t imagine my children telling me they had cancer,” she says. “So I couldn’t do that to them.”

Instead, she used the pandemic as cover. When she and her husband visited, they stayed in the car while her parents stood on the porch. She wore a wig under a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a mask. These layers kept her secret safe.

It wasn’t easy. Every visit came with the emotional toll of holding something back. But Maria found comfort in knowing she could spare her parents that pain, at least until she was through the worst of it.

At home, her family was her “bubble,” and faith was her source of calm. Church services streamed online, and religious programming helped Maria feel less alone.

Money worries

As if treatment and pandemic restrictions weren’t enough, Maria and her husband also lost their incomes. She was placed on unpaid medical leave, and because he was a contractor in water restoration, he couldn’t enter clients’ homes.

At the same time, charges for Jade’s wedding expenses were coming due. Maria recalled, “My short-term disability claim was denied. It was a scary time.” Their savings account dwindled.

But they didn’t panic. Maria believed God would get them through this. An unexpected gift from her father two years later helped them recover.

“Things didn’t go according to my plan. But I do believe God was working them out,” she reflected.

Documenting her journey

Throughout treatment, Maria kept a detailed notebook. She wrote down questions for her care team, noted test results, tracked symptoms, and recorded moments of encouragement. She also took a photo at each chemotherapy session, which she did to remind herself what she had faced: “I took eight photos. One for each infusion. They helped me count them down.”

She even documented the machine used in radiation and the layout of the hospital halls. She wanted proof of what she had undergone.

*Scroll down for a slide-show of Maria's pictures with accompanying captions.

The wedding, the bike ride, the five-year mark

In October 2020, Jade finally had the wedding she had envisioned, scaled back but joyful. Maria wore a wig and walked down the aisle feeling blessed.

Shortly after, Maria underwent surgery. Her pathology report came back with excellent results. That December, she completed radiation with no burns and minimal fatigue.

Now, five years later, she reflects on what she would say to the woman who found that lump on her birthday: "I’d say, ‘You’re not going to die today. You’re going to live today.’ That day, that week, those moments — they still matter; they were life lessons. Hug your family. Take the walk. Eat the good food. You’re still here. Thank you, God, for this and every day."

Maria’s picture book

Maria documented her breast cancer experience by writing in a journal and taking pictures. Though most of these images are included in the blog above, we thought you might appreciate them in a slideshow presentation. You can click on the caption links to learn a little more about Maria's journey.