I've often wondered about the lives of the people who share those cold MRI chambers and the waiting room seats at UCLH in London.
Over the years, I’ve exchanged fleeting moments with people in radiotherapy units, sometimes a compassionate smile, sometimes no acknowledgment at all as our lives brush past each other.
We are connected by an unspoken bond, one that we’d never wish for but find ourselves living with. This week, as I turned on my phone, a story on Instagram stopped me in my tracks.
Francesca, a young woman on her way to UCLH for her scans, shared her journey with a rare sarcoma called Desmoid Fibromatosis (DF). Her words felt like an echo chamber reverberating with my own experiences.
It was as if her story had spilled into my own journey, different but somehow the same.
Francesca was diagnosed in May 2020 with DF, a rare, non-metastatic tumor that affects just five or six people per million. Rare, indeed.
She had actually been living with DF unknowingly for over a year before being correctly diagnosed, enduring misdiagnoses due to how uncommon this condition is.
Initially, she began chemotherapy, but the treatment failed. For patients like Francesca, there are very few options. The lack of research funding for DF means there’s limited progress in effective treatments.
Her tumor, a painful and growing presence under her left foot, eventually swelled to the size of a boiled egg. Walking became impossible, and her days were consumed by discomfort and frustration.
In 2021, she underwent surgery knowing there was a high chance the tumours would return, and they did, more aggressively than before.
By then, her foot was entirely overtaken by a web of tumours wrapped around bones and tendons, leaving no alternative but a below-the-knee amputation.
Francesca made the brave decision to amputate in November 2023, choosing quality of life over continued pain.
Remarkably, she was out of bed on crutches within 24 hours of the operation, a testament to her resilience. Nearly six months post-surgery, she’s thriving, adapting to her new prosthetic leg, and looking ahead to an exciting future.
As I scrolled through her posts, I couldn’t help but be moved by her determination.
Francesca dreams of running marathons and competing in Parastanding tennis, a version of the sportadapted for amputees or those with similar disabilities.
Before her diagnosis, Francesca was an avid tennis player.
Even after her surgery, she tried wheelchair tennis but found herself drawn to standing Para-tennis.
In June, she hopes to compete in her first tournament and gain an official ranking, a first step toward her dream of representing the sport on an international stage.
Her ambitions extend far beyond tennis. Francesca has set her sights on running a marathon in 2026, a goal she’s pursuing with relentless optimism.
Despite her current prosthetic leg being heavy and bulky, she has already started running.
A proper running blade, which she’s working to fund through consultations at a private clinic, will make the journey easier, but Francesca knows the true work lies in her determination to cross that finish line.
Her Instagram posts bring you right into her journey, sharing each small victory and setback with raw honesty. When she recently told her followers there might be tumours in her remaining leg, the heartbreak was palpable.
Francesca’s story reminds me of the resilience I see in so many others navigating the relentless journey of cancer and chronic illness.
The routine of never-ending scans, the waiting, the hoping, it’s a rhythm I know too well. Her positivity and drive to achieve her dreams are a powerful testament to the human spirit’s ability to endure and thrive, even when life feels impossibly hard.
Her journey, like mine and countless others, is marked by the strange duality of fear and hope.
We fear the outcomes of our scans, the return of pain, or the unexpected challenges that come with living alongside cancer or rare diseases.
Yet we also find hope, hope in treatments, in new prosthetics, in breakthroughs, or simply in the small victories that come from taking one step forward, for me this was as simple as having the ability to walk for a few kilometres after ny hospital visit this week.
To anyone facing the daunting journey of cancer or chronic illness: I send you all my love and strength this week. Like Francesca, you’re living proof of what it means to rise above unimaginable challenges with grace, courage, and unwavering determination.
May her story, and yours, continue to remind us all of the resilience that defines the human spirit.
