From Scars to Stars: A Journey of Healing, Hope, and Art
My Diagnosis and Surgical Journey
My story begins in 1994, at just 29 years old, when I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It was a whirlwind—within that year I underwent a splenectomy and endured 40+ rounds of radiation, spanning from my chin to my pubic bone.
Just three years later, in 1997 at age 32, the cancer returned. This time, I went through ABVD chemotherapy, known to many as “the red devil of chemos.” I was told I would never be able to have children.
But life had other plans.
In 2014, I faced another battle—breast cancer, a delayed consequence of the radiation I received two decades earlier. The following year, I experienced seven infections, which led to the removal of my left implant. By 2016, I made the choice to remove my right breast and live flat.
Despite it all, I am the proud mom of a 25-year-old son, Leonardo—my living, breathing miracle.
On Recovery: A Personal Path
Recovery is deeply personal. My journey looked different from many in the breast cancer community. It wasn't just about healing physically—my body, yes—but also emotionally and mentally.
Take your time. Allow yourself to feel everything. There’s no rulebook that says you have to be “okay” when the treatments and surgeries are over. In fact, that’s when the real healing often begins. Be gentle with yourself—you’re not behind, you’re simply human.
"There is strength inside you that you never knew you had. Healing is deeply personal. And your feelings? 100% valid."
Discovering AnaOno
I first heard about AnaOno while in the hospital at MSK. After reconstruction, the compression bra they gave me felt so clinical—necessary, sure, but far from something I wanted to wear home.
Once my drains were removed, I wanted something beautiful. But due to multiple infections, I had to keep wearing that same utilitarian bra far longer than I wanted to (I still gag at the memory!).
Eventually, after all surgeries, I went flat—and found freedom. Now, the Maggie is my go-to: sexy, sweet, and so me.
A Dream Collaboration
When Dana asked me to collaborate on this project, it was a DREAM COME TRUE. I just knew we could create something magical—fun, functional, and comforting. Something that felt like a long, gentle hug.
Dana has always had my back. She’s supported my art and encouraged me every step of the way. This journey together has been full of love, learning, and light.
Art Is My Lifeline
Art isn’t just something I do—it’s who I am. I create daily. It’s my therapy, my heartbeat. The process of creating is just as important as the final piece. Watching someone smile when they connect with my work—that’s everything to me.
I grew up in a house filled with creativity. My parents met in art school, and my siblings and I were raised surrounded by color and imagination. My father’s studio was my playground.
When I was first diagnosed, newly married, and told I couldn’t have kids, my art became my outlet. It was large, angry, messy, raw—not for others to see, but for me to survive. As my journey evolved, so did my art. After breast cancer, I focused on body image—creating self-portraits that captured my scars and allowed me to see myself through new eyes.
Scars to Stars
The designs I’ve created are deeply meaningful. They reflect the journeys of women in all stages of breast cancer (and other cancers). By sharing their scars, I share their stories—each one a powerful map of survival and strength.
I often use the phrase “Scars to Stars” in my work. It’s my artistic heartbeat. I’ve walked this road. I understand. And I want others to see themselves in my art—and feel seen, heard, and honored.
A Symbol of Hope
There’s a small detail in all my artwork: a string with a heart at the end. That string? It’s my ever-present Hope. Because no matter where you are in your journey—we all need a little hope.
The Collection: A Hug in Fabric Form
This collection was designed to feel whimsical yet classic—a cozy hug in the form of pajamas. I wanted each piece to make you smile, even in the midst of fear and uncertainty.
A cancer diagnosis can be terrifying and isolating. But I believe that slipping into these pieces can be a small but powerful reminder: you are not alone. There is a community here for you.
And there is still joy to be found.
With love, hope, and creativity,
– Marianne
