Months after completing treatment for Stage 2 breast cancer, Ohio teacher Maralee Lellio went to the ER with a crushing headache. The 29-year-old mother of a toddler learned that her breast cancer had metastasized to her brain. She was told there was no cure.
“I went from feeling, ‘I’m going to make it,’ because that’s what the doctors said, to ‘I’m going to die,’ because that’s what the doctors said,” says Lellio, now 37, an English and history teacher who lives in Youngstown, in northeastern Ohio.
But her husband Andrew Lellio, 37, convinced her not to give up hope. She switched to new doctors at the Cleveland Clinic, tried new cutting-edge treatments and now has no evidence of active disease.
“Whatever my future holds, I know I won’t regret living fully,” she tells PEOPLE. “For everyone facing a dire diagnosis, regardless of how slim the statistics appear, no matter how unlikely you’re told it is survive, I want you to know: It’s possible. The more examples of long-term survivorship that people see, the more hope they can have for themselves.”
The mother of two shares her story with PEOPLE’s Wendy Grossman Kantor, advocating for research, awareness and a cure for Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. “Right now there is no cure,” she says. “If more funding went to metastatic treatments and cures, the survival rate would skyrocket.”
Andrew and Maralee Lellio with their two daughters
Credit: Kate Ross
I was 28 years old when I found a lump in my right breast. The doctor told me that it didn’t look or feel like cancer; she was 99.9% positive that it was benign. I left her office with so much confidence and joy because I didn’t have anything to worry about.
This was in August 2018. I’m a teacher, I was also taking classes for my master’s degree, and my daughter was a year and a half old. I was busy. I didn’t have time for cancer.
In four months, the lump went from about the size of an almond to the size of a baseball. The lump was red and looked angry; it hurt, like wasp stings. It was huge. I went back to my OB/GYN in December, who said, “You need to get a mammogram immediately.” On January 17, 2019, I got the diagnosis that it was Stage 2B triple negative breast cancer.
Maralee Lellio receiving treatment
Credit: Courtesy of Maralee Lellio
I felt like I was in the middle of a whirlpool. It was panic and dread and fear. I looked at my little daughter and thought, “How could I bring you into this world just to turn around and die?”
But because it was early stage, the doctors told me, “You’re going to make it. You’re going to survive.” My friends and family all told me, “Nobody dies of breast cancer anymore. You’re going to be okay.”
I had 16 rounds of chemo and a double mastectomy in September 2019. Then my doctor said, “You’re done.” I would have imaging every six months, but I was going to be fine.
Maralee Lellio receiving treatment
Credit: Courtesy of Maralee Lellio
Three months later, in December 2019, I started experiencing aches and dizziness. My oncologist ordered a CT scan of my brain. The scan was clear. My doctor told me I was depressed. But I didn’t feel depressed. He said I needed to exercise and offered to prescribe an antidepressant.
I ignored the headaches, because I had gotten checked, and my doctor said I was fine. In the following months, my headaches grew increasingly intense. By summer 2020, the headaches were so severe I could no longer take care of my daughter; my mom would come over every day and care for her during the day while my husband, Andrew, was at work.
I thought I was having migraines, it got so bad that in July 2020 I went to the ER and had an MRI. The doctor said, “We found a very large tumor in the middle of your brain. There’s no cure. Sorry.”
Maralee Lellio and husband Andrew Lellio
Credit: Courtesy of Maralee Lellio
I looked at my husband who looked terrified and heartbroken. It was so overwhelming, I went numb.
Not long after that, the tumor started causing seizures. In August 2020, at a local hospital in Youngstown, I had a craniotomy to remove the tumor.
After that, I lost my ability to walk. I took a leave of absence from work. My daughter was 3 at the time, and was with my in-laws for weeks at a time. I missed her deeply.
When you have early-stage cancer, the doctors are your biggest cheerleaders. They’re so encouraging. But as soon as I got that metastasis, the entire tone changed. The same doctor who I really loved and felt comforted by was grim and blank and cold.
Maralee Lellio and her daughter
Credit: Kate Ross
When I asked my oncologist my prognosis, he said, “I’m not going to lie to you, Maralee, all we can do is buy you as many years as we can, but it’s not going to be a long time.”
My cancer was now considered terminal. I felt dread and despair.
I wondered: How much more of my daughter’s life am I going to experience? Will I ever get to see her ride a school bus? Will I get to go shopping for her homecoming dresses?
That was a tough time for me. I would argue it was even harder for my husband. To die, you get to just be done, but he would have to go on without me, raising our daughter alone.
Maralee Lellio’s daughters
Credit: Cute Kiddos Photography.
One night, I was on the phone telling one of my closest friends that I could only hope for a couple more good years before I’d be gone. As soon as I hung up the phone, my husband said, “It really makes me sad when you talk like there’s no chance that you’re going to make it. We’ve seen stories of people who live long past their prognosis. If you think that you can live, that’s the only way you’re going to be able to.”
I realized he was right. I decided right then, “I’m going to change my narrative. I’m going to live.” Even if this does kill me, I don’t believe that I would ever regret living like I was going to live.
In September 2020, my doctor recommended I go to the Cleveland Clinic, where I did five rounds of radiation and tried an innovative new medicine called a PARP inhibitor, a targeted therapy.
Maralee Lellio and her older daughter announcing her little sister
Credit: LS the Photographer
When I met my oncologist Dr. Halle Moore, I told her, “I know my diagnosis is really bad, but I’m going to live.” She nodded and said, “Okay.” She didn’t argue with me. She didn’t give me a reality check.
The radiation shrank the tumor down to nothing but dead cells in my brain. I did two years on the PARP inhibitor and in April 2021 I was declared to have no evidence of active disease.
Since then, every scan comes back clear. My husband and I both love having good news. Every time I go in for a scan, I’m really looking forward to seeing that all the cancer is still gone.
There are many different kinds of breast cancer, and mine is triple negative, because it does not respond to hormones. My doctor okayed me getting pregnant. I’ve always wanted two children. I grew up an only child with a single mom; I was so lonely, I couldn’t do that to my daughter. I wanted her to have a sibling.
A year after I stopped treatment, I got pregnant in November 2023. My youngest daughter was born in July 2024. My daughters are now 9 and 2.
Maralee Lellio and her newborn youngest daughter
Credit: Courtesy of Maralee Lellio
My husband has always been my rock. He is the cornerstone of our family. There were times where I was so out of it from the treatments and from the tumor itself that I could hardly get up. I couldn’t eat. He would force me to eat and sometimes drag me to the car to take me to appointments at the Cleveland Clinic, which is over an hour drive each way.
He was there for me emotionally and physically. He would leave work to come home if I wasn’t responding to text messages. He ended up being able to work from home specifically so he could make sure that I wasn’t having seizures or medical emergencies in the middle of the workday. He brought up a TV tray and would work on the couch watching me to be sure that I was okay.
I was at the forefront of his attention, and he was selfless and completely there for me.
Andrew and Maralee Lellio and the two daughters
Credit: Courtesy of Maralee Lellio
When I was inpatient at Cleveland Clinic for about a week, he stayed with me the entire time.
Because of Covid restrictions, visitors were limited, but any minute that he could be there, he was by my side, wearing a mask, and sitting with me. Whether I was conscious and awake or not, he was there. That was huge. I needed him more than ever, and he was there for every part of it.
My gratitude is immeasurable.
Every day, I’m just so grateful and joyful. My family is everything to me.
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