My name is Catherine and my mission is to raise as much money as I can for research into combating primary bone tumours, in particular osteosarcomas, so that others don’t have to go through what I did. Government funding for childhood cancers are pathetically low, survival rates are poor and shockingly therapies have barely altered in the 30 years since I had osteosarcoma. We desperately need to fund research otherwise more children will face the same fate as me and many may not be so lucky. Another reason for this campaign is that I want to share my story to raise awareness of primary bone cancers, as diagnosis is often delayed and by the time it is found it is at an advanced, metastatic stage. Then if you do survive there are so many other challenges to face!

To mark this milestone and to help raise funds for the Bone Cancer Research Trust me and family members are hosting events and doing challenges based around things I love!

Events and challenges

Saturday 11th October 2025 - kicking off with hip- hip hooray with cake and tea party! Marking 30 years since I finished chemotherapy.

A huge thank you to everyone who came along on the day and helped to raise an incredible £1,735! 🧡

November/December - Wreath making & Christmas crafts

Through 3 festive workshops we raised an amazing £400! Thank you to everyone who came along and contributed to this brilliant total.🎄

Swim challenge - Swimming always been my sport/exercise of choice. I was always a good swimmer, free style my stroke of choice. I feel free and ‘normal’ as weight-free.

Every month with 30 days in plus February (my birthday month) I'm going to swim 50 lengths three times a week (150 a week) , for 4 weeks (600 lengths a month) so over 5 months be 3000 lengths /32.6miles!

The final month of this challenge will be September, the same month I finished chemotherapy

Adam’s run back in time- 5 runs - 5 cities I have lived in over the years. This will see Adam run through Southport, Liverpool, Southampton, Nottingham and Birmingham!

My story:

Rewind back 30 years to 1995, I was your typical teenage girl who was full of life and energy and who was just finding her way in the world. I loved playing netball, hockey, dancing, swimming and was an avid reader with a vivid imagination. Then a surprise snow day on the 3rd March 1995, nearly a month after my 14th birthday, led to me seeing my GP about pain that I had in my right groin and leg, something that I had been complaining about on and off for months but was put down to growing pains. After examination an x-ray at the local hospital was requested, although initially this was lost somewhere in the system (paper forms in those days!) and we had to get another request form. Fairly quickly after the x-ray was taken the consultant called us in, what came next was shocking and a whirlwind of life-changing information. It was a tumour on my pelvis and I was being referred straight to the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital. It was like do not pass go, this was serious! My first impression of the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital, or Woodlands as it was known, was I felt at home here as everyone walked funny like me, little did I know that it would become a second home for the next 6 months and beyond. Things moved fairly quickly, I had scans including an MRI, a nuclear medicine scan followed by a biopsy. The wait from the biopsy seemed like forever, as it was Easter by this point. Finally, results were in it was an osteosarcoma on my right pelvis - the size of a grapefruit.

This was unusual as tumours of the flat bones, like the pelvis are commonly Ewing sarcomas. However, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it meant the novel and pioneering surgical procedure they planned had a better chance of success. The standard surgery at the time (and probably still is in some places in the world) was a hindquarter amputation meaning loss of your whole leg and no prosthetic replacement. Thankfully, my consultant Mr Grimer saw the need for a better quality of life than this and therefore better chance of survival and he drove research into novel ways of limb salvage. In this case the novel surgery was to remove the section of pelvis with the tumour, take away the tumour, then irradiate what was left of the pelvis (in another hospital down the road) and implant it back in with screws, leaving a fully functioning leg.

Before the surgery though I had to undergo four rounds of chemotherapy - Doxorubicin and cisplatin. I still remember how sick I was , I couldn’t eat, the metallic taste in my mouth, the smells and the beeping of the machines. Plus, there was the constant blood and urine collection. I was very weak , thin and lost my hair from everywhere on my body (apart from a few stragglers which I refused to cut!) It was horrendous but what got me through was family, laughter and what one doctor said “the worse you react the better it’s working”! The chemotherapy formed a ring around the tumour so it could give enough of a margin for surgery. I went for surgery on 2nd August 1995 - I danced on the patio area outside the ward that morning before they took me down to theatre, not knowing if I would make it through the surgery or have my leg. I woke up in pain, groggy and feeling for my leg. The surgery was successful, I had to remain on my back for two weeks, which brought its own challenges and then I had to learn to walk again first with the aid of a zimmer then crutches (called Bill & Ben - I was little weed in the middle!).

This wasn’t the end, I still had two more rounds of chemotherapy to go. These were not as bad as the first batch and it was soon over and I was given the all clear to go back to school to start in my GCSE years, life could return to normal. However, this was a big adjustment as I had lived experiences that some of my classmates and teachers couldn’t understand and didn’t know what to say; at times I felt a bit like an alien in a foreign land! Luckily I had a small group of friends who helped me through and soon all that was left that made me stand out was a stick and a slight limp. A lot of my glut muscles were removed with the tumour so whilst I regained full movement of my hip, I hadn’t got full control. Over the years I have learnt to be very good at adapting, often to my detriment.

First decade post cancer

I was driven to be ‘normal’, i.e. keep up with my peers, not stand out and to study to do something to help others. I gained 10 GCSEs (4 As & 6 Bs)and 4 A Levels (A,B,C,D!) then went on to get a Bsc Hons (2:1) in Biochemistry with medical biochemistry degree at University of Cardiff and a MRes at Nottingham Trent University.

However, although I wanted to just be a ‘normal’ teenager over the years I still was back and forth to the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital and ended up having further surgeries as my hip started to wear away because of the air getting to it during the original surgery (they now do a hip replacement as well as the re-implantation as learnt from what happened with me!)- requiring hip resurfacing (x2), removal of a secondary from my lung (which they found by chance) and then a total hip replacement whilst in my third year at Cardiff University. Each time this happened I required physiotherapy and months of recovery time- I also found my limits like for instance a bouncy castle not a good idea, I was banned for life, along with things like sky diving and running.

My mission became cancer research and discovering more targeted therapies that were not as harsh for patients, I didn’t want others to have to endure chemotherapy like I did. So I started a PhD- based on cancer immunotherapy.

The second decade post cancer

This started with me standing up and presenting at a conference in Athens as part of my PhD. I was finding something that I loved, research and being in the laboratory, and growing in confidence. That same year, 2005, we had some devastating news, my step -dad, Charlie was diagnosed with bowel cancer. He had surgery and rounds of chemotherapy but little did we know that he was on borrowed time. By February 2006, we found out it was terminal and fate intervened again allowing me to take a six month ‘sabbatical’ from my PhD and be there with my mum and Charlie at the end. My hip had dislocated and fractured (extremely painful) and I required further reconstructive surgery as what was left of my pelvis had crumbled. My scans and x-rays were sent around the world to see what could be done for me - options: remove leg, remove all the metal work leaving me with a frail hip or another novel surgery using a prosthetic called an Ice cream cone. We went for option 3 , this gave me the best chance of maintaining my mobility. I had the surgery three weeks after Charlie’s funeral. This time I didn't only have to recover physically but also mentally as I was dealing with grief - my own and my mum’s.

When the time came to go back to continue my studies, it felt like I was that alien in a foreign land, people didn’t understand , were awkward around me - back to square one. Grief played a major part in this period of my life, after Charlie died a number of others passed away for one reason or another. Each time reminding me how fragile and precious life is. Alongside this there was survivors guilt, why me, why am I still here and feeling like I had to make the most of opportunities. I travelled at every opportunity including Cyprus, Texas, California, Whistler Canada (for conference), New York, Japan (for a conference ) Florence and New Zealand.

After completing my PhD, I started work at the University of Surrey in Guildford. Throwing myself straight into the laboratory, working hard to prove I could keep up. However towards the end of the position I was reminded again to take it easy and slower as once again I was back at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital with excruciating pain. This time my hip was moving and catching my sciatic nerve. There was nothing for them to do at this point, it meant I had to be permanently onto two crutches and work got a trolley for me to use in the lab. When my job ended I struggled to get another and was out of work for 6 months. The rest was good for me though and I was back living in Nottingham, fate played a part again and I started seeing a friend, Adam. We had a long distance relationship for nearly a year as I got a job in Southampton investigating tumour microenvironments. We got engaged, Adam moved to Southampton and we were married in Southport in October 2012. Our honeymoon was in New Zealand and it was the best time. My job in Southampton ended and I got another back at the university of Surrey- it was a long commute.

I then had to face a reality having children, I never knew if I'd be able to 1: get pregnant 2: carry to term safely. We were prepared, went to the GP and were referred to a gynecologists', who was impressed as she didn’t often see people who planned ahead. She contacted Mr Grimer and I had a few tests. The plan was to be monitored and to have a C-section. We got pregnant in 2014.

Third decade post cancer- family life

Being pregnant gave me so much energy and surprisingly seemed to stabilise my pelvis. Mum came to help out and I took holiday and maternity leave, so I could take it easy as we didn’t know how my body would cope with the extra weight, although I had gestational diabetes and I put very little on. My daughter was born in April 2015, she was our miracle and filled us with so much joy and love. Adam got a job in Liverpool so we moved to be with my mum and family. Motherhood brought its own challenges and like with everything I had to adapt, I could not push the pram, carry my daughter around or even stand with her. We managed and had lots of fun. We tried for a second child, suffering a miscarriage at 7 weeks then finally being pregnant again and having my son in 2018. This pregnancy wasn’t as easy as the first as I couldn’t rest the same but the joy and love was there again. They both kept me busy and it’s been loads of fun.

I have spent the last decade raising my family and my learning (finally), to listen to my body. The time using crutches and walking differently has put a toll on other parts of my body including my back and wrists. I have nerve pain and am using a wheelchair to get around as walking and standing cripples me with pain. My hip is like a broken paving slab that seems in place at first glance but seesaws as soon as you step on it, catching my sciatic nerve. As always I have adapted and am happy, healthy and have found a community to be a part of. It is hard to admit my weakness to others, to face that I am not as able and have to rely on them. I have found new passions in gardening and floristry as well as re-discovering old passions in crafting. Another challenge was the retirement of my consultant Mr Grimer just after my son was born. He had been with me all the way through and felt like my safety net as he knew me.

Primary bone cancer didn’t just affect me 30 years ago, it has affected me for the past 30 years and will continue to affect me because of the ripple effects on my body and emotionally. Who knows what effect the chemotherapy has on such a young body, long term survival is 5-10 years post cancer, but nobody really looks further than that. You are lucky you survived, you just get on with it. I want to use my experiences to help others and to make others aware that we need to support those post-cancer .

By chance I came across the Bone Cancer Research Trust when watching Maisie Adams win on a repeat of the Hit List. It was fate as it’s the 30 year anniversary for me. The Bone Cancer Research Trust was founded in 2006, 11 years after my diagnosis, to help support patients and their families. It seems fitting that I have found this charity who not only supports research funding (my old mission) but supports current patients and families dealing with primary bone cancer as well as long term survivors like me. They have a supportive community and it is crucial work. Times are hard and there are so many worthy charities but if you have a spare pound or more then I guarantee it is going to an extremely worthwhile cause!

Thank you for reading my story, I know that it is long, it’s hard to condense it! And there is so much more I haven’t written, I have met so many amazing and wonderful people on my journey, each adding something to my story, which I am grateful for! I love you all - thank you.