When he was just seven years old, life as he knew it changed forever. What started as a dull ache in his thigh became the beginning of a battle that would shape the rest of his life.
“I remember the pain being so bad it kept me awake at night,” he recalls. “It was deep in my femur, and it came and went for about a week before disappearing again.”
Nearly a year passed before the pain returned — sharper, more persistent this time. His family did what any parents would do: they took him to the doctor. The verdict was the same every time — growing pains. But his mum knew something wasn’t right. She refused to give up.
“They kept saying it would stop, that it was nothing to worry about,” he says. “But my mum just kept pushing. She knew it wasn’t normal.”
Eventually, one doctor listened. A referral to Great Ormond Street Hospital followed, and after a biopsy, the truth emerged — Ewing sarcoma, a rare and aggressive form of bone cancer. It was 1987, and he was just eight years old.
“I’ll always be grateful to that one doctor who took my mum seriously,” he says. “If she hadn’t kept fighting for answers, they might never have found it in time.”
A Year of Chemotherapy and Courage
The diagnosis marked the beginning of a long, painful year. He underwent around 14 courses of chemotherapy and a major operation to replace his right hip and femur at the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital in Stanmore, supported by the oncology team at Great Ormond Street.
Chemotherapy took a toll. There were endless hospital stays, exhaustion, and a constant struggle to stay strong. “The treatment was brutal,” he admits. “But the staff were incredible. They became like family. The doctors, nurses, physios — they were all amazing.”
Family and friends rallied around him, keeping his spirits high when his energy was gone. “The NHS were fantastic,” he says. “They didn’t just treat me; they looked after my whole family.”
In 1988, after a year of treatment, came the news they had all been praying for: he was cancer-free.
Life After Cancer: Rebuilding, Relearning, and Racing On
Recovery didn’t mean the end of hospital visits. Over the years, he’s had multiple revisions and surgeries to maintain and rebuild his prosthesis. Adhesions, scar tissue, and mechanical wear have meant constant maintenance, but he has never lost his sense of humour — or his drive.
“I’ve had a few hiccups over the years,” he laughs. “But the surgeons at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital have always kept me walking. I’ve been so lucky to have people like Professor Tim Briggs, who’s rebuilt things time and time again — even after I ignored the advice to take it easy.”
Because even while fighting cancer and recovering from major surgery, he refused to stop doing the things he loved. His passion as a child? Karting.
“My mum and surgeon hated it,” he admits with a grin. “But it didn’t stop me. I even broke my arm one weekend racing after being let out of hospital following my first hip replacement. Later, I was back karting again — this time in a hip brace, right after another surgery.”
It’s this spirit — part stubbornness, part resilience — that carried him through everything that followed.
A Family, A Future, A Full Life
Now, at 41 years old, he looks back on that little boy in the hospital bed with a quiet sense of disbelief. “Back then, I never thought I’d make it this far,” he says. “And I definitely never thought I’d be able to have kids after chemotherapy.”
But life, as it turned out, had other plans. He and his wife Alison now have two children — Georgia, 13, and Joshua, 12.
“Having them has been my greatest gift,” he says. “I was worried when they reached the same age I was diagnosed. Even though I knew Ewing sarcoma wasn’t hereditary, I couldn’t help being anxious.”
When his son once complained of knee pain, he didn’t hesitate. “I pushed for X-rays straight away,” he says. “I know what it’s like to have symptoms dismissed. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Lessons in Perspective
His life today isn’t without challenges. The hip replacements that gave him mobility as a child now need updating. “I’ve worn out another one,” he says. “I’m waiting to go back to see my surgeon about what comes next.”
But his attitude remains the same — grateful, determined, and grounded in perspective. “There are a lot of things I have to be careful doing, and some things I just can’t do,” he admits. “But I try not to focus on that. I focus on what I can do.”
It’s a philosophy he’s lived by for more than three decades — one forged in hospital corridors and strengthened by every surgery, setback, and recovery.
“Cancer taught me early on that life is fragile,” he reflects. “You can’t waste time worrying about what might go wrong. You just have to keep moving forward.”
A Message of Hope
More than thirty years after his diagnosis, his story stands as a testament to the power of perseverance — and the importance of early detection.
“The earlier a primary bone cancer is diagnosed, the better the chance of survival,” he says. “So don’t ever feel bad about getting something checked. Push for answers. If my mum hadn’t kept fighting, I might not be here today.”
He pauses, thinking back to the boy he once was — frail, frightened, yet already fighting. “When I look at my children now, I realise how hard it must’ve been for my mum and dad,” he says softly. “They spent every waking hour at the hospital. My sisters had to step back while my mum stayed by my bedside. I didn’t understand it then — but I do now. They gave everything.”
Now, he hopes his story will encourage others to stay vigilant and never give up. “You don’t know how strong you are until you have no choice,” he says. “I’ve learned that the hard way — but I’ve also learned how incredible life can be.”
