My daughter beat childhood cancer

Joburg mom Susan Snell shares her daughter’s successful fight against osteosarcoma.

Pain in knee

When Lucy was 12, she was a healthy, active Grade 6 pupil who loved netball and was getting ready for hockey season. So, when she started complaining about pain in her knee, I assumed it was an ordinary sports injury.

A physiotherapist gave her strengthening exercises, and a sports physician found evidence of Osgood-Schlatter disease, a common overuse knee injury in growing children between the ages of 9-15 years. We were told to let her rest over the April holidays and that she would probably be ready for hockey season afterwards.

But something didn't feel right when she was still limping after the holidays. That was the moment I thought, “This doesn't look good.”

Dreaded diagnosis

I took her back to the sports physician, who recommended an MRI as he was also concerned. During the scan, the technicians took Lucy for an X-ray before bringing her back to finish the MRI. I knew something was wrong. While Lucy was still in the MRI, I received the X-ray report on my phone. Two words stopped me in my tracks: suspected osteosarcoma. I had never wanted those words in my vocabulary.

Within hours, we were referred to an orthopaedic oncology surgeon, and a biopsy was arranged. The diagnosis was confirmed: Lucy had osteosarcoma, a form of bone cancer.

The exact cause of osteosarcoma in children is unknown. It happens when random changes occur in the DNA of growing bone cells (osteoblasts), causing them to divide out of control. Most cases happen by chance and are not passed down from parents.

View of the future

The doctors explained that it was aggressive and that there was a significant risk that her leg might have to be amputated. For our family, that was devastating. We are incredibly active, and running has always been a huge part of my life. Now a simple 5km run with Lucy was out of the question. One of the hardest parts was knowing what to tell her.

She heard words like cancer and chemotherapy and was terrified. At one point she asked what would happen if she didn't have chemotherapy. The answer was brutally honest: if she wanted to see another Christmas, it was not optional.

Fortunately, we were then introduced to our third wonderful specialist, Dr Nadia Beringer, a paediatric oncologist at Wits Donald Gordon Medical Centre, who became our lifeline. Because osteosarcoma can grow quickly and spread to the lungs, there was an enormous sense of urgency. Treatment began within two weeks of the diagnosis.

Surgery was followed by another five months of chemotherapy. In total, I spent about 87 nights with her in hospital. We moved into the ward for weeks at a time and the staff became our family.  The little pull-out couch became my bed, and I brought my own pillow. It became our strange new normal.

Chemotherapy was much harder for Lucy than I had imagined. I expected nausea and vomiting, but there were so many other side effects people don't talk about. Her body became incredibly sore. Her mouth and digestive system were affected, and mouth care became a huge part of our lives because painful sores could make eating difficult. Then there was the hair loss.

But through it all, Lucy amazed me. She could laugh with the nurses and courageously smiled through the nausea, even though she was frightened. We were all frightened. There were sleepless nights when the hospital alarms or pain, or nausea kept her awake. There were times when she cried because she was so scared.

There were Sunday afternoons when we'd drive towards the hospital, and she'd beg me not to turn into the parking lot. As a mother, it was one of the hardest things to keep that car moving forward. And yet, once we arrived, Lucy would put on her brave face as the wonderful nurses put up the next chemotherapy bag.

She also missed an entire year of school. Her teachers were incredibly supportive, even arranging for her to write maths and English exams in hospital while she was receiving chemotherapy. It was about giving her a sense of normality and reminding her that her life was still moving forward.

In remission

Lucy finished her last chemotherapy treatment on 7 February 2025. By April, she was confirmed to be in remission.

Today, she is 14 and thriving.

Her life isn't exactly what it was before cancer. She can’t run or play contact sports, but she swims, and her school has allowed her to help coach and umpire hockey. Her hair has grown back, curly and beautiful. She has also found ways to talk about her experience and educate other children about cancer.

We still have regular scans, particularly of her lungs and leg, and her medical team continues to monitor her development. The sports physician still checks in regularly, the surgeon keeps an eye on her growth, and Dr Beringer is as much in her life as ever. Being in remission doesn't mean cancer disappears from your mind. But it does mean we can look forward.

Advice for other parents

If I could say one thing to other parents, it would be this: trust your gut.

If something doesn't feel right, ask again. Get it checked again. Don't be afraid to go back and say, I'm still worried.

My other message is to look around you. Childhood cancer changes your perspective. When you spend time in a paediatric oncology ward, you realise how many families are quietly going through unimaginable things.

So be kind. Be compassionate. Educate yourself.

And above all, never underestimate the power of a mother's instinct – or the extraordinary resilience of a child.