Published in September 2026

At 75 years old, Jo has been living with a distal femur prosthesis for 40 years. Many people are surprised to learn that she has undergone several major surgeries. Inspired by reading Annabel Kiki’s story, and the courage she has seen through others sharing their experience, Jo decided it was the time was right to share her own story. This is her account of being diagnosed with Giant Cell Tumour of the Bone at age 34.

Playing tennis in Spain, February 1985

Before my diagnosis in 1985, life was busy and active. I was living in Surrey and enjoying family life alongside my husband who owned a restaurant in London. I had trained as a ballet dancer from a young age and loved to be sporty.

In February of that year, we were away on a family holiday. I remember distinctly that whilst playing tennis I had a sudden pain in my left big toe. It was so bad I had to stop playing.

At first I ignored the pain, but then my knee began to swell. We were moving house at the time, so after a visit to the GP I started taking some painkillers. I decided to go back to the GP after my stepson tapped the back of my knee as I was leaning on a doorway. He was only doing it jokingly, to knock me off balance, but the pain was excruciating. At that point the doctor referred me for an X-ray.

The day after my X-ray, a doctor who I had never seen before appeared at my door with no warning. He had seen a tumour in my femur and was very worried that the bone was going to break. He brought me some crutches to start using immediately.

Looking back at it, for him to arrive without any notice was very odd and I don’t think it would happen these days.

It was a blur the moment from when he arrived. I had the children with me and I remember calling my husband to say, ‘I’ve got a bone tumor’.

When I put the phone down, I remember thinking, am I going to die?

At this point, nobody had properly explained my diagnosis to me. I didn’t understand the distinction between benign and malignant Giant Cell Tumour of the Bone. I just knew there was a tumour in my leg, and that I was frightened.

My husband came home as fast as he could, the next few days moved very quickly.

I had a biopsy and then underwent a lengthy limb salvage surgery to remove the tumour and reconstruct my leg with a bone graft. For the graft, bone was taken from my own shin and pelvis, but more donor bone had to be sourced from a different hospital halfway through the procedure. When I woke up afterwards, I was in terrible pain.

What I remember most was my physio, Rosemary, supporting me afterwards and actually explaining my diagnosis of Giant Cell Tumour of the Bone. I felt so ill afterwards, but then recovery became my focus.

Recovering with my leg in full length plaster cast

I’d spent my whole life moving my body, and because of my dance training the physiotherapy made a lot of sense to me. I understood my muscles and bones and how they interacted with the rest of my body.

Once I was able to get up and start walking around the hospital, I got so much encouragement from the staff there, it helped with my one month stay inside.

Unfortunately, the progress didn’t last. In October of 1985 the pain returned, and it became clear that the tumour had come back.

By this point my husband and I had lost confidence in the first surgeon, so through some contacts that my husband knew we were eventually referred to a specialist team at the Middlesex Hospital. At this Hospital I met the surgeon Rodney Sweetnam and then later, a young registrar called Steve Cannon.

I remember at the time thinking dubiously about my treatment being organised by this young registrar – how wrong I was! Looking back now, I’m so glad I met Steve Cannon.

In May 1986, I underwent a massive operation to replace the lower part of my femur with an endoprosthesis. Before surgery, I was warned that there was a possibility that I might need an amputation if the tumour had developed more than they had initially thought.

Surprisingly, my gut instinct to the possibility of amputation was that:

It doesn’t matter as long as I can live to see my grandchildren

Now I can say that I have been able to meet my grandchildren.

Mr Cannon went ahead with the operation, and it was a success.

When I came round from surgery, I was obviously in pain, but it was different to the pain I'd been living with before. The pain from the tumour had gone.

Recovery was very difficult both physically and psychologically. It was important for me to be able to regain bend in my leg.

I remember Mr Cannon telling me he wasn't letting me go home until I could achieve a ninety-degree bend. I cried and told him, ‘I'm going to be here forever’.

At the time it felt impossible, but gradually, through determination, physiotherapy, and the support from those around me, I recovered. In hindsight I think it is harder for your family watching you go through so much. As the patient you just get through every day.

Over the decades I’ve had further operations to replace parts of my prosthesis, and in 2010 I had a total revision of the prosthesis as I had worn out the hinge. I’ve had one service of my new prosthesis in 2017, and this new hinge has a bit of rotation as well as bending. I’m also currently on a waiting list to have the bushes changed again for my prosthesis. Despite all these surgeries, I don’t have a limp and often people do not realise that I am a long-term survivor of a bone tumour.

My birthday at Stanmore Hospital in 2017

Looking back now, I can reflect on the emotional challenges that I experienced because of my tumour. I was a young mum, a dancer and sporty, and it took me years to absorb the speed at which my life had changed. It also had an impact on my family and I was upset that I couldn’t be as active with my young son anymore. However, my whole family were incredibly supportive.

I have a distinct memory of my son making me dinner when I was feeling unwell, he was only little. My husband also made me feel safe during such uncertainty. The people that have cared for me have been truly incredible.

I felt unwell for a long time and wasn’t very good at admitting when I needed help. I really should have been kinder to myself. There were also some strengths I gained from my diagnosis which arrived completely unexpectedly…

During one of the difficult periods after surgery, I passed by an art shop offering classes and I just thought that if anything went wrong in the future and if I ever lost my leg from further surgery, at least I would still be able to sit and paint. This realisation was a turning point for me and I went on to become an artist.

In my studio, 2009

I started attending a watercolour class and gradually discovered a passion for art. One of my friends invited me to a line dancing class and I declined because I wouldn’t be able to dance, but then I decided to come along anyway and draw the dancers there. It all snowballed from there, and what had begun as a distraction became a huge part of my life. I joined a local art society, started selling my work and got my own studio in Wimbledon. I created Christmas cards for the Skeletal Cancer Trust and also painted a picture which is hung in the outpatient waiting room at Stanmore hospital.

Art opened doors I never expected and gave me a purpose and so much joy. Even now, I organise community art projects. It has been a wonderful hobby to grow from such a frightening experience.

Selling the Christmas cards I designed, 2020

I still think of Mr Cannon often.

We're an Italian family and so we collect mushrooms every autumn.

When I go mushroom picking with my family, I find myself saying, "Thank you for my leg, Mr Cannon." It makes me smile.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that a bone tumour changes the course of your life forever. Your river changes its course. That is true whether you're diagnosed at 17 or 75.

But life does continue and reading the stories of other patients has reminded me that every journey is different, yet there is something that connects us all. We know what it's like to have our lives turned upside down in an instant. We know the uncertainty and fear that surrounds us, and the determination we show to keep moving forwards.

For me, the course of my river has included family, grandchildren, art, travel and a life lived on two legs. I will never forget that I am fortunate. 40 years on.

With the picture I donated to Stanmore outpatient department, 2021.

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