Andrew’s Story

Osteosarcoma at the tibia
Age at Diagnosis: 19
Date of Diagnosis: 1984
Location: United Kingdom
Hospital: Middlesex-London
Team: Dr Jelliffe, Mr Sweetnam and later, Prof Cobb

Diagnosis: I was born in Zambia in 1965 and am the youngest of three boys. My brothers are quite a lot older than me and used to give me grief when I was little. This changed over the years and they became extra fathers for me, guiding me, or trying to, through my teenage years. My parents sent me off to school when I was six years old; it must’ve been as hard for them as it was for me. Anyway, I continued to go away to school for the rest of my education. I was a normal teenager like any other; stroppy, sometimes rude to one’s elders and betters, but otherwise pretty normal. I played sport for the school, enjoyed the outdoors and probably didn’t do enough studying.

During 1984, my life was going in a steady direction towards a hopeful career in the RAF when everything suddenly fell apart. I started to get discomfort in my right knee. Only discomfort at first, not enough to stop me playing squash, go running, have a game of hockey or swim in an inter-school gala. It didn’t even stop me going to the Brecon Beacons with the cadets. But nevertheless, it was discomfort; it felt like something was tight around my knee. Gradually, this turned to the occasional short and very sharp stab of pain that went away very quickly, but still the discomfort. I went to see the school doctor who wasn’t really sure what it was. I was prescribed some pain killers and a session of ultrasound treatment. Still it wouldn’t go away and now the sharp pains were getting more regular.

Treatment: I went home after the term ended to Zambia; it was always wonderful to step off the plane into the warmth of the African heat and see my parents again. Africa is in my blood and I missed it terribly. I was looking forward to playing golf again with my folks too. Then, one day, on the golf course, I found I just couldn’t manage it any further. Mum took me to the doctor who sent me to a specialist. “Cartilage, yup, that’s your problem, Andrew, cartilage! We can operate whenever you like!” Um, no way thanks. I elected to wait until I got back to the UK for a second opinion. Well, to cut a long story short, I went for the scan, followed by a biopsy and hey presto! Osteosarcoma! Oh boy, now what? I’m supposed to be joining the RAF, I have a hockey match, I have to have WHAT? An artificial knee and tibia, chemotherapy! What do you mean I have cancer?!!

Recovery: The next few months were spent between school, hospital and a flat in London. My friends were wonderful and my family couldn’t have been more loving and caring. If one had to choose one’s parents, then I certainly chose well. They were and still are the kindest most caring people in the world and I love them dearly. The chemotherapy was just awful. I NEVER want to go through that again! The leg operation, however, went very well. Over the years I have now lost count of how many operations I’ve had to repair my leg. Starting with a build up titanium particles from the prosthesis causing an area of large swelling that eventually burst, to finally having the tibia component revised and completely replaced by a new design a few years ago. The leg is now by no means perfect, but it’s pretty damned close! I can walk (with a stick), drive a car AND fly an aeroplane, getting my PPL in 1990.

Last year was pretty horrendous for another reason though. I started to get vivid flashback of the chemotherapy. It was so real that I couldn’t do anything except cry. I cried like a baby for hours. I was hopeless and didn’t know what to do so eventually I went to see a psychologist. It was thought that it may be a case of Post Traumatic Stress. I still, sometimes, lie awake in bed now and can’t get the visions out of my head: The drips, needles, red fluid being injected, the icecap and the sickness; so long ago but like it was yesterday.

Life now: Anyway, I’m in good health, I’m an Air Traffic Controller and a private pilot. I have a fantastic family and a good job. I have awesome friends and loving parents and I still have two legs with all my own toes. What more could I want?!

Thoughts and Hints for Patients: Never give up.