Mary Sansone is a survivor of acute myeloid leukemia. She was first diagnosed in 2016 at the age of 51, and again in 2020. She received a bone marrow transplant at Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa in 2020 during the pandemic.

Mary also suffered from depression and alcohol addiction in her past. She has empathy and compassion for all patients and caregivers, especially those suffering with addiction issues.

Mary shares candidly about her own experiences.

Mary Sansone

Mary Sansone is a two-time survivor of acute myeloid leukemia. Catch up on all of 

My passion is to feel passionate. I guess this is what people say when they describe themselves to a potential employer: “I am a passionate and intelligent person.” Rather than specifying an activity, cause, or curiosity, they use the adjective to describe their overall sense of self.

Maybe that’s a cop-out. Should we be pinpointing our passion? After experiencing a bone marrow transplant to combat a recurrence of acute myeloid leukemia, my disposition shifted. I was always passionate about animals, but having survived acute myeloid leukemia (AML) twice, I was struck more frequently with the vast wonders of the world. The moon and stars, the communicative ants, the shark fin in the water, the way people behave, languages, the seemingly impossible medical accomplishments. You get it: jaw-dropping.

But let’s go back to the AML recurrence diagnosis and treatment time.

While in the hospital, I admired many who were passionate about fighting the disease. My BMT-ward-roomies would pray constantly and conjure healing. They would fervently manifest recovery. “I am at war with cancer!” I cannot say that my body loudly screamed for renewal; my attitude was “whatever happens, happens.” I wasn’t depressed, just tired.

Bored and sick, I picked up my watercolor paint set, gifted to me by a friend. At Level 1, I attempted to draw flowers. Then I pushed the brush to create people. I started to pencil outlines of me and my two sisters doing something cute or hilarious during our childhood. Wet rivers of color gracefully collided within the lines to give our characters texture, shadow effects, and emotion. So started “The Sister Series: The Early Years.” We were toboggining, camping, jumping on beds, walking through forests, and performing crooked arabesques in tutus with attitude.

I also have two brothers. They didn’t get much paint attention, but lots of love.

The painting diverted my attention from the nausea and noise of the machines. It elevated dopamine levels, removed my longing to smoke, and made time go by faster. Every day, I had something to look forward to. This was a huge deal. Spending weeks in an enclosed bone marrow transplant ward during COVID would have been claustrophobic and lonely. Being sick while isolated with nothing to do could have sent me into a god-awful depression. For me, depression felt even more overwhelming than the cancer itself.

The watercolor set came out every day. Before I knew it, week three post-transplant arrived. I would be leaving the hospital and going to my brother’s home for months of recuperation. While at his house, and still unable to work, I continued to paint, write, walk, and hope.

I just celebrated five years post-transplant. My younger sister and I went to a painting class and used acrylics to create a sea turtle. My work was still amateur, but her turtle looked like it had a fever.

Even though I don’t paint routinely anymore, I use my adult imagination now more than ever. The passion I acquired while in the hospital now manifests itself through writing and wonder. At the risk of being called a granola granny, I gasp at the planet. I never knew we could see Venus in the sky until now! I am in awe of wildlife – particularly whales, elephants, and sharks. With only complicated and difficult access to these creatures in the wild, I take time to revel in the mystery of crows, mating crickets, and my own cat. Pretty much any plant or animal, and the universe. Kinda grandiose.

I intend to express my continued passion, gratitude, and wonder through painting, reflection, writing, travel, donations, and volunteerism. If you are in the hospital, put a pen or paint to paper if you can. Let your mind flow with imagination.

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Articles

Experiencing a bone marrow transplant for acute myeloid leukemia (AML) recurrence shifted the author's perspective, igniting a passion for the world's wonders. While hospitalized, painting became a therapeutic outlet, alleviating depression and providing a sense of purpose. This creative pursuit continued during recovery, fostering a newfound appreciation for nature and life. The author now channels this passion into writing, reflection, and volunteerism, encouraging others to explore their creativity during challenging times. The journey underscores the transformative power of art and imagination in healing and personal growth.

A watercolor set gifted during my bone marrow transplant for acute myeloid leukemia became my outlet for wonder, creativity, and lasting joy in recovery and beyond.

Painting Passion During AML Recovery Sparked Lifelong Creative Joy

On June 5, 2025, I was a blubbering mess. I had just finished eating food while with my brothers, sisters, and mother. Afterwards, my younger sister had me sit down on the couch in front of their TV and told me that I was going to watch something special.

I was wearing a tiara and a birthday sash. Even though I turned 60 in February, we were celebrating my 5-year birthday. Five years ago on June 5th, I received a bone marrow transplant to treat a recurrence of acute myeloid leukemia (AML), a specific type of blood cancer.

When I was diagnosed with the recurrence of my AML, I was given ample information and gentle lectures on the recommended bone marrow transplant treatment plan. Although Moffitt Cancer Center treats the whole person, the physicians had a duty to share survival rates. Without the transplant, the survival rate to 5 years was only 24%. With the transplant, the survival rate to 5 years was 65%.

There was a focus on 5 years. If you make it past five years, there is a good chance you will have a “normal” lifespan.

I made it past 5 years. My body cooperated with my desire to experience more. This was a reason to celebrate. My family gathered together and shared a meal. I received Disney princess birthday cards, one even containing a 5-dollar bill. Then I was placed in front of the TV.

There was a picture of a girl on the screen. “Do you know who that is?” my sister inquired. I smooshed my face and then burst into tears. The video started playing. My 28-year-old donor (23 at the time of the transplant) and her boyfriend were outside their residence in Israel. Shay started to speak, and I made a loud noise. My family encouraged me to “Listen!” But as she started talking again, I couldn’t help but make another weird scream.

I had been in contact with Shay through email over the years. She wasn’t too proficient in English, so it was sometimes difficult. After we met, she went to Canada to take English classes. Upon her return, she was called up from the reserves to serve in the Israeli Defense Federation. Her email was no longer working. I sent a message through Facebook, but all her posts were written in Hebrew.

She is very pretty and sweet. In the video, she pronounced Mary (my name) as Marie, which was endearing. Her English was now very good. She was next to her handsome boyfriend and a beautiful black canine that they were training to be a blind guide dog. She shared that she took my recommendation to visit Africa and went with her partner for the better part of three months. She and I both love animals, have two sisters, like to draw, and are kindred spirits. She told me that she is incredibly fearful of needles, but that didn’t stop her from donating her marrow to save my life. She ended the video by calling us sisters.

I got emotional. Sometimes I will find myself taking my life for granted. This was a jolt to my system. I am alive because someone I did not know saved my life! I hope her life is filled with wonder, peace, animals, health, prosperity, joy and much love.

Celebrating a significant milestone, a woman reflects on her journey of surviving acute myeloid leukemia (AML) after receiving a bone marrow transplant. The transplant, which significantly increased her survival rate, was a pivotal moment in her life. Her donor, Shay, from Israel, became a cherished connection, despite language barriers. The emotional bond between them is highlighted in a heartfelt video message from Shay, who overcame her fear of needles to save a life. This experience serves as a poignant reminder of the impact of selfless acts and the value of life.

I celebrated five years since my bone marrow transplant with a surprise video from my donor, a beautiful reminder of the life she helped me keep.

Celebrating Survival After Transplant: Appreciating My Donor

Five years have passed since my bone marrow transplant to combat a recurrence of acute myeloid leukemia (AML). This was a magnificent mile marker. I spent my five-year-old birthday (June 5, 2025) lounging and meditating on my pool floaty while soaking in the Florida sun. No commitments, no errands, no party. Just a luscious and relaxing day off.

I have since returned to work. In my role as a client advisor for fine jewelry and prestigious Swiss-made timepieces including Rolex and many others. I interact with a variety of interesting people with interesting hobbies. Many of my clients have exciting professions, beautiful families, and often — wealth.

My hobby as of late has been working. And recently, sulking. A shame - given the many blessings I have received.

As the newest member of our team of client advisors, I am routinely the last on the performance list. My colleagues have established long-term relationships; I am starting from scratch. As I write this, I am experiencing a rough week in terms of sales. My focus on gratitude for my survivorship abruptly pivoted too poor-me.

Much of what happens in the showroom is luck. I imagine that a divine power intervenes and blesses me when “the power” likes me. I imagine I am being punished by “the power” when I am disliked. I struggle with trying to identify my flaws so that I can correct these and be in good standing with The One who distributes blessings. I am not sure if that is how the world works. This is somewhat human, and somewhat moronic.

When I am home and reflect on my thoughts and moods, I re-conjure the elation for employment. I am alive. I have health insurance. I am clear of conscience. I can breathe.

Writing for Cure Magazine is insanely therapeutic. It brings my focus back to the miracles. Let’s take a look:

Things start out sketchy, but bear with me.

I relapsed on alcohol after nearly 25 years of sobriety due to a major depression. At the time, I wanted God to take me. My relapse made me sick very quickly. In a matter of seven months, I was in a life-or-death state of being. I looked hideous, I was falling down, I continually vomited and cried profusely. My job let me go; I was an “enigma.”

My brother Chris rescued me. I went to rehab and made new lifelong friends. I recovered and enjoyed life once again. I moved into a sober living home, which was gross. I went in for doctor checkups before I looked for a new job.

My oncologist at Moffitt Cancer Center informed me that my AML returned. One struggle after another. But I handled the shocking news better than I did the depression. I was quickly admitted to the hospital to initiate induction chemotherapy and wait for a donor to be identified so that I could undergo a bone marrow transplant.

My four siblings were not matches; however, NDMP found a perfect match with a 23-year-old girl from Israel. During the pandemic, they managed to get the donation to me four months after diagnosis. I was readmitted and underwent the difficult procedure. I remained spirited despite suffering from various side effects.

My hair never fully came back. I have sparse sprouts on my head five years after the procedure. I don a human hair wig. I’m grateful for the women (I assume) who donated their hair! I do not have any underarm hair and rarely need to shave my legs. I have some arthritis from all the chemo, stronger prescription lenses, and nail problems. None of these bother me.

My oncologists exclaim that I am doing wonderfully. “You are a poster child for bone marrow transplants.”

I love what I do for a living now, but too often I let everyday problems trample on my gratitude. By scripting these blogs, volunteering at Moffitt Cancer Center, and supporting friends with cancer, I’m able to reverse the line of thinking; I stomp on the worries and reach for the stars. I unscramble my crazy thoughts and put gratitude at the forefront of my emotions.

Struggles in life will continue. My struggles are miniscule when I think of the many who are mentally or physically ill, dreadfully poor, marginalized, or worse. The world is both an ugly and a beautiful place. I want to be on the side of beauty.

I am a firm believer in “The pursuit of happiness.” Being alive is a miracle. Experiencing joy and security are priceless rights and blessings. I’ll remind myself to live light, be buoyant, be kind, and give back. Thank you, God, for everything!

A bone marrow transplant recipient reflects on their five-year journey post-transplant for acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Despite professional challenges and a relapse into alcoholism, they express gratitude for their recovery and current life. The narrative highlights the importance of gratitude, resilience, and the therapeutic power of writing. The author emphasizes the significance of support systems, such as family and healthcare professionals, in overcoming adversity. They advocate for focusing on life's beauty and the pursuit of happiness, while acknowledging the ongoing struggles faced by many individuals.

Five years after my transplant for leukemia, I’m learning to focus on gratitude despite daily struggles, remembering that being alive is the greatest gift.

I Sometimes Forget to Celebrate Survivorship

Mary Sansone is a two-time survivor of acute myeloid leukemia. Catch up on all of 

In 1997, I went to substance abuse treatment three times, plus I made good on a reservation to the psyche ward. Each time, the mental anguish during withdrawal felt soul-suckingly horrific. The panic was indescribable. I was drenched in sweat and self-pity. “How did I let it get this far?” I asked — not of the alcoholism, but of the journey to treatment.

Decades ago, I was also taken to the hospital after I fell off a bar stool. Too much tequila. In the ER, they took my blood alcohol level twice. I had a .592 — the highest on record at the time. (Maybe still is.) I remember thinking, “I’ve been more drunk than this.” That said a lot since I often blacked out. If I was conscious at .592, what was my BAC during the blackouts? After they gave me charcoal to help purge the tequila, I refused to stay. I left and went to a bar. (I knew another alcoholic who survived after a .70 BAC reading at a hospital. Regardless, it is not a contest.)

I have many examples of running from help to feed my addiction.

My guess is that many alcoholics and addicts with a cancer diagnosis hope to use openly or secretly during treatment. The foreboding detox pains and mental panic may even prevent an addict from accepting cancer treatment at all. 

Unfortunately, substance abuse behavioral change is largely absent from the oncological treatment environment. There is plenty of data that indicates an increased risk of various types of cancer from excessive drinking. However, as of this writing, there is little research done on how to treat an alcoholic who is newly diagnosed with cancer, in treatment for cancer or as a survivor of cancer.

I may have had leukemia when I relapsed on alcohol in 2019. I quickly went into the vomit-y stage. I don’t remember feeling that ill when I was on my last legs the first time around — over 20 years ago. After the relapse, I went to rehab and shortly after found out my leukemia was back. (Perhaps I ought to be grateful for my leukemia? It might have made me so sick so fast that an intervention was welcome.)

Approximately 15,000 people with a history of cancer participated in the National Institutes of Health’s All of Us Research Program. Researchers reported that 12,000 people in this group reported that they drink alcohol, and nearly 40% reported engaging in hazardous drinking, repeated excessive alcohol use. Amoing those who may have been actively undergoing treatment for cancer, about 75% drank alcohol, many heavily, according to a report from the National Cancer Institute. The study found that contrary to physician expectations, alcohol use was not reduced by patients being actively treated for cancer.

Alcohol consumption and risky drinking behaviors among cancer survivors are associated with various adverse long-term outcomes, including higher risk of recurrence, secondary primary tumors and increased mortality, according to findings published in 

If I had been using, I would have wanted compassion, and the comfort of knowing that a smart detox plan would be integrated with my cancer treatment, along with counseling and an after-cancer-care plan. I would want to know about the social workers, chaplains, yoga, mediation, acupuncture, and other mind and body wellness programs that are offered at the center. Thank God I was sober when I got diagnosed! If I was hiding my addiction, I would have later thanked those that shared their suspicions with the medical team thereby possibly saving my life in more ways than one.

I wish to share that getting sober is worth it. If you have cancer, it is especially worth it. Sobriety is not a nerdy pursuit. It is paradoxically both invigorating and calming. It is far from boring. Welcome to next-level coolness.

My biggest fear was that getting sober would make me insane. (Yes, I see the irony.) It took a lot of therapy and some medication for me to jump from irrationality to clarity. Being clear-headed led to progress which led to self-esteem. I learned to truly love myself.

For patients with cancer with a substance abuse disorder, I hope that you accept help. Your cancer center may or may not have a chemical dependency program or partnership. But this is when you need to be your own advocate. Let the medical team support you through a safe detox. The physical suffering will pass. Breathe, draw, write, sleep and engage in therapy. Pharmacology can help with anxiety or depression. Professional and social support will help you in your sober journey through good times and bad.

It’s not always that simple. But it’s also that simple.

Substance abuse and cancer treatment intersect in complex ways, with many patients struggling to manage both simultaneously. Despite the known risks of alcohol consumption on cancer outcomes, there is limited research on integrating substance abuse treatment into oncological care. Many cancer patients continue to drink heavily, even during treatment, which can exacerbate health risks. Effective management requires a comprehensive approach, including detox plans, counseling, and wellness programs. Sobriety can significantly enhance quality of life and treatment outcomes, emphasizing the need for integrated support systems in cancer care.

As a cancer survivor, I overcame alcohol addiction and urge others to seek support, safe detox and sobriety to improve their treatment and recovery.

Mary Sansone

Painting Passion During AML Recovery Sparked Lifelong Creative Joy

Celebrating Survival After Transplant: Appreciating My Donor

I Sometimes Forget to Celebrate Survivorship

On Alcohol Addiction for the Patient With Cancer

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