On 1st February 2021 my 20-year-old son Sam bounced, well hobbled, down the stairs excited with his mobile in his hand on speaker. It was the much-anticipated physio calling us back with the results of his MRI scan. He was convinced that the knee pain he’d been suffering for several months was a meniscus tear. He’d googled it – watched the you tube videos of surgical interventions. I’d asked physio colleagues and friends, my retired GP dad and physio mum and they agreed this sounded a distinct probability. I was working as a nurse and have to say I was initially quite dismissive as he had jumped over a fence and reported hitting his knee on a bed post. I adopted the ‘watch and wait’ treatment pathway.
A few GP appointments, an x-ray which showed no abnormalities, a physio review, a few missed phone calls which Sam ignored as ‘no caller ID’ meant this much anticipated scan had been delayed. His pain got worse – shouting out in the night in pain, his knee began to visibly swell more and more and he was unable to walk. Something was most definitely amiss. An astute physio listened to my concerns on the follow up phone call and agreed to go to video call to assess for himself. This was on the Thursday – by Saturday we had an urgent MRI at a private local hospital (unheard of in the NHS). At 9.30am on Monday morning, we got a call that changed our world forever.
Jenny, Sam's mum
The gravitas of that probable diagnosis sank straight in. Most people in their world’s would have no idea what osteosarcoma was. Indeed, we now know only 162 people get diagnosed each year with primary bone cancer (osteosarcoma); a GP is likely to only come across 1 patient with this in their whole career.
Sadly, Sam and I knew all too well. Our childminder’s son Chris had received this diagnosis, had his leg amputated and devastatingly lost his life to this dreadful disease. Sam was only 8 at the time and I remember him distinctly asking Chris inquisitively about his prosthesis. Chris was such a wonderfully happy young man who throughout his journey engaged with the children running around him and embraced life. After we put down the phone Sam said, “I don’t want to lose my leg, I don’t want to die.”
And so, his journey began.
"It's July 2021. I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma a rare type of bone cancer. After months of chemotherapy and a full knee replacement I am now halfway through my fight against cancer. It’s been a really tough journey so far and incomparable to anything else I have done or achieved in my life. After a successful surgery and the cancer responding to the chemo I am now technically in remission with all the cancer removed. However, I am having another few months of chemo to ensure that all the cancer cells are gone. Currently I am having to learn to walk again and regain full movement in my right leg which is an experience like no other. After the surgery waking up then finding your leg doesn’t work and you have to train the muscles to work was a shock 😅. I have 3 more months of chemotherapy then 6 more months of immunotherapy then I should be fully recovered and cancer free".
Fast forward to March 2022 - So here I am, on the eve of Sam’s last immunotherapy. Sam looks like Sam did before all this started.A tad chubbier and his hair is different. Maybe a shade darker. He doesn’t look sick or ill at all. He has a slight limp when he first gets moving whilst his new bionic knee replacement kicks into action. He feels a bit lethargic at times and rubbish for a day and a half after his weekly infusions of immunotherapy but nowhere near as sick as he has been.
I wrote down a list of the extensive side effects he’s endured and couldn’t really believe it: nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, constipation, abdominal bloating, wind, skin rashes, fungal skin infections, dry skin, eye infections, nose bleeds, anaemia, low mood, lethargy, loss of appetite, mouth ulcers, change of taste, alopecia, rigors, reduced concentration, brain fog, depression, blocked P.I.C.C. lines, clot in his heart, bakers cyst, tinnitus. He’s had 46 different scans and treatments over the last 14 months with 8 months of the hardest of chemotherapy regimens and a further 6 months of immunotherapy. What a blooming trooper.
Sam has taught me so much about myself and the person I would like to strive to be. His inner strength, power, resilience, positivity in the face of the worst adversity is a lesson for us all to behold. Of course, he’s been blooming miserable and downright angry and rude at times but for most of the time he’s sucked it up and dealt with it. When he was diagnosed, he said “one in two people get cancer and it just happens to be me."
Jenny, Sam's mum
"I decided to raise funds along with the help of friends and family for the Bone Cancer Research Trust as the journey I have been through has shown me that there are those less fortunate with their treatment. Seeing a 14 year old who has lost his arm but is still smiling playing his iPad and hearing of those being given life expectancies instead of end of treatment dates will truly break your heart . Without the work of the BCRT I would not have the curative diagnosis I have.
The Bone Cancer Research Trust are great at posting updates on where the money goes and what they get up to so checkout their website (I personally follow their Facebook for updates). Unlike large cancer charities the donations make a huge difference and can clearly be correlated with research and progress".
Sam Wick
Sam, Ben, Jenny & Martin Wick
You can make a donation or pay in funds raised by cheque, payable to Bone Cancer Research Trust, to:
Bone Cancer Research Trust, 10 Feast Field, Horsforth, Leeds, LS18 4TJ.
Please ensure you make it clear that the donation is for Sam's Fund so that your donation is allocated to the correct fund.
100% of donations to Sam's Fund will go towards our vital work.
