Back in March 2023, Betsy had been poorly for around six weeks. She first became unwell when she had an ear infection, which she never really bounced back from. She kept spiking temperatures and became fatigued and not wanting to play with her sister after school. Instead, she’d just fall asleep on the sofa. It was such a change from her normal, fun and energetic personality.
Symptoms then became more concerning when she began getting persistent pains in her stomach, ankle and arms. It was at this point she was taken to a GP, and we visited an A&E department where we were told it was likely viral. However, for me, panic had already kicked in. As a mother, to see your child suffering and not having any answers or a way to make it better was nothing short of torture. The final symptom she showed was sweating at night. I’d have to change the bedclothes and dry her down with a towel. It was at this point, after another desperate and panicked visit to the GP was made, that Betsy was eventually sent for blood tests, and I felt listened to.
Unfortunately, the results of those blood tests would change our lives for ever. I remember being on my own with Betsy at our local hospital after they had phoned for us to come in urgently. Her dad, Christian, had gone to Cheltenham Festival for the day. He’s a racehorse trainer, so that day was a very important day in the calendar for him, and in truth I think he thought I’d been worrying over nothing.
The doctor huddled into Betsy’s bay and said: “We believe Betsy has leukaemia.” I stood frozen to the spot, and everything that was said after that seemed to be in slow motion. I remember looking back at her as he was speaking. She was curled up on the bed stroking the hair of the doll I’d just bought her, completely oblivious to the enormity of the words being spoken. My heart shattered into a million pieces in that moment and the desperation and fear I felt is something words could never describe.
We were quickly transferred to Noah’s Ark Children’s Hospital in Cardiff where we were met by a team of the most incredible doctors, nurses and play specialists. It was then that Betsy was confirmed to have B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, and we knew that life was going to look very different from that point on.
The importance of mutual support
On our first day on the ward, another little boy a couple of years younger than Betsy had been given the same diagnosis. They had their ports put in and started treatment at the same time. Every chemo and lumbar puncture in those first six weeks, which are so difficult, were together. Having another family to go through this with, and to support each other, made such a difference to our lives.
During this time another little girl was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia on the ward, and she turned out to be in the same school as Betsy. They hit it off straight away and are now the best of friends. They helped each other through procedures like having their ports accessed and held each other's hands every week when having bloods taken. On the occasions where they couldn’t go to school and were isolating, we’d go over to each other’s houses to keep each other company.
We’ve formed a lot of strong friendships on the ward along the way. We have a gang of us now, who talk daily and support each other during the difficult days. I’m so grateful to them and have no doubt we’ll all be friends for life.
Finding a ray of light
Despite our newly formed friendships, those initial few weeks were difficult for Betsy. The steroids would make her angry, her hair had started to thin, her legs would ache and become weak, and she felt so poorly and sad that she couldn’t go to school or see her family. During those difficult weeks we managed to see a bit of light that happened to be in the shape of a horse.
One day, Betsy was having a particularly difficult day, and her daddy had gone to Scotland to take one of her favourite horses, ‘Kitty’s Light’, to race in the Scottish Grand National. This was our business, and we had so many people relying on us, we were clinging on by a thread to keep this going. I was able to go on sick leave as I worked for the NHS, but Christian had 10 members of staff, horse owners, and 50 horses to look after, so for him, that wasn’t an option. I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t very interested in watching it, as I wasn’t particularly interested in anything at that point. However, we turned on ITV Racing and, to our amazement, this little warrior of a horse won against all the odds. I can’t describe the lift in mood it gave us. It gave us that little bit of hope that good things can happen to us and gave us the motivation to keep pushing on. That special horse has continued to give us so much joy and special memories all through Betsy's treatment.
Betsy and sister, Tilly, before the Grand National
How kindness and community helped us
During the ITV broadcast, it was mentioned that Betsy had been diagnosed with leukaemia, and from there, messages of love and support came flooding in. These messages helped me in more ways than you can imagine. Friends and family rallied around us, food was made for us, care packages were delivered, and gifts were given to Betsy and her sister, Tilly. A huge amount of fundraising was also done in Betsy's name by so many amazing people. So far, over £150,000 has been raised for charities such as LATCH, The Little Princess Trust, Noah’s Ark, and CCLG. These charity events gave us something to look forward to, and included a park run, rounders tournaments, sponsored races at Chepstow races, cake sales, marathons and half marathons, and hair cutting. You name it, people did it. Everyone who helped support us or organise these fundraisers are so special to us, and we’ll never forget their kindness.
Betsy during treatment
Betsy, who’s now eight, has finished treatment and rang the bell in July. She was surrounded by her little friends from Rainbow Ward who are still having treatment. She was the first of the gang to ring the bell, and it felt bittersweet seeing her finish while her friends still have so much treatment left.
Kitty's Light
Since Betsy’s diagnosis, our lives have been changed beyond measure. We’ll never take anything for granted again. Life is for living and we’re going to live it the best way we can, together. One thing is for sure – we wouldn’t have got through the past two years without the friendships we made on the ward, the kindness shown to us by so many people, and the hope given to us by a special little horse.
From Contact magazine issue 109 | Winter 2025
