Before January 2021, Lucy was a lively child who was always on the move. At just eight years old, she radiated energy, being the first to dash onto the playground and the last to leave the field. She cherished her school’s “daily mile,” relishing the simple pleasure of running alongside her classmates. However, one chilly morning, that joy was abruptly interrupted.
During the run, Lucy suddenly halted. Her face contorted in pain as she tearfully informed her teacher that her leg hurt too much to continue. This wasn’t a typical complaint from a child trying to avoid exercise; something was clearly wrong. Her mother, a nurse and breast cancer survivor, sensed it immediately.
“I scheduled a GP appointment right away,” her mother remembers. “When I felt a hard lump on her thigh, my heart sank. I knew something was off.”
The GP concurred. Within hours, Lucy was sent for an emergency X-ray. A single look at the screen confirmed their worst fears. “The bone didn’t appear normal,” her mother said softly. “I knew we were confronting something serious.”
The following days were a whirlwind of appointments, phone calls, and sleepless nights. Then came the diagnosis no parent ever wishes to hear: osteosarcoma — a rare and aggressive type of bone cancer.
Lucy was instructed to refrain from putting any weight on her leg. Her teachers assisted her in adapting to crutches, but for a girl who adored sports, it felt as if her world had come to a standstill.
The Battle Commences
Within three weeks, Lucy began chemotherapy at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, followed by limb-salvage surgery at the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital in Stanmore. The doctors worked diligently to save her leg — and her life.
Since Lucy was still growing, her surgeons opted to fit her with a “growing prosthetic” — one of the largest ever implanted at the hospital. This would expand as she grew taller, ensuring she could keep pace with her peers.
As she lay in the operating room before surgery, her doctor asked what she wished to dream about while under anesthesia. “I want to fly to the moon,” she replied.
Upon waking, she discovered a small rocket drawn on her leg — a gift from her surgeon, symbolizing that she could still dream big, even amidst pain.
Courage in Solitude
Lucy’s journey unfolded during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. Hospital corridors were silent, playrooms were closed, and visits were limited. Yet, even in isolation, Lucy’s spirit shone brightly.
She found solace in Abbie Has Osteosarcoma, a children’s storybook about a girl just like her. Play therapists helped her smile through challenging days, and her physiotherapist and clinical nurse specialist kept her motivated.
However, what helped the most were the small, digital notes from home — messages of love and encouragement from her classmates that arrived as colorful post-its on her laptop. “Those little notes meant everything,” her mother shares. “They reminded her she wasn’t alone.”
At home, Lucy found comfort in her two whippets — Arlo and Remy. Arlo, in particular, seemed to understand. “During treatment, he would curl up on her leg,” her mother recalls. “When the treatment concluded, he just… stopped. As if he knew she didn’t need it anymore.”
A New Form of Strength
The shift from being an athletic child to a cancer patient was the most challenging aspect. Lucy often felt anger — anger at her body, at the crutches, at the world for taking away the sports she loved. But gradually, she discovered new ways to channel that energy.
Art, reading, and even assisting younger patients kept her occupied. And when she couldn’t move quickly, she learned to be still — to heal.
Now, at 11 years old, Lucy’s hair has grown back, her laughter has returned, and she walks with quiet confidence. She still attends physiotherapy and undergoes scans every four months, but she’s rebuilding her strength — both physically and emotionally.
“She’s still the same girl,” her mother expresses with pride. “Still determined. Still dreaming of flying to the moon.”
A Mother’s Insight
For Lucy’s mother, who once battled cancer herself, this journey has been both heartbreaking and profoundly humbling.
“My advice to every parent is straightforward,” she states. “Trust your instincts. You know your child better than anyone. If something feels off — advocate for answers. We were fortunate to receive a swift diagnosis and treatment. It saved her life.”
She pauses, then adds softly:
“Lucy taught me that bravery isn’t about never feeling fear. It’s about confronting fear and choosing to hope regardless.”
The Light That Persists
Lucy’s story is one of bravery, resilience, and love — not just from her family, but from an entire community that rallied around her. It’s a narrative that reminds us that even when life breaks us down, we can rebuild — piece by piece, heartbeat by heartbeat.
And somewhere in that hospital room, where a little girl once dreamed of rockets and moonlight, hope still lingers — a quiet, glowing reminder that the human spirit can rise above even the darkest storms.
💛 Lucy didn’t just survive cancer. She redefined strength.
Because sometimes, courage doesn’t roar — it whispers, “I’m still here.”
