Inspiration in the form of a brave young girl

CAITLIN Kydd's bone cancer has been in remission for just over a year.

In June 2009, the then seven-year-old underwent surgery to replace her right thigh bone with a titanium prosthesis and by March 2010 she was walking with barely a limp and even riding her bicycle.

Reporter ELEANOR JONES and photographer PHIL MEDGETT went to Hawkinge to hear more about Caitlin's determined fight...

"THIS has knocked Caitlin down and knocked her down, over and over again. But every time she finds a smile and takes it in her stride – she's been amazing."

But Alison Kydd is also an inspiration. During the last 18 months, the 40-year-old has had to watch her only daughter go through major surgery, intensive and prolonged chemotherapy, countless blood transfusions, physiotherapy and MRI scans – the list is endless.

And, as if this were not enough for any family to take, just as Caitlin was almost back to fitness in March, she slipped and fell at home.

Weakened by chemotherapy, the two lower bones in her right leg were fractured by the impact.

But, undeterred, Caitlin picked herself up and got back on her feet yet again.

She has since raised money for the hospitals that saved her life by rattling collection tins and selling her own toys.

Alison's eyes are bright as she talks to and about her daughter.

Her slender shoulders have borne the horrendous weight of Caitlin's illness, the reality of which, she says, is only just beginning to sink in.

She says: "She finished chemotherapy in December.

"The doctors said she'd responded really well to the treatment and that the cancer had come out in one piece, which was really good.

"My husband Jake and I had stayed positive throughout because I knew there was no other way to be. So, although it was a huge relief, I almost felt as if I knew that's what the doctors would say because I'd never let myself believe anything else.

"At the time, I didn't see how ill she looked because I didn't let myself see it. She was my little girl and she was coping and that was all I needed to know.

"She said to me once, 'I couldn't have got through this without you,' and I said, 'No, you're the one that's carried the rest of us.'"

However, the whole family deserves credit.

Son Harvey, now 12, was going through what would have been an upheaval for any child, as he left primary school and started at Dover Boys' Grammar.

But he also played a vital part by staying strong and refusing to do anything thatmight cause his parents a moment's extra worry.

So did the positive thinking and the stoicism with which the Kydds faced their battle have any effect on their eventual victory?

No one can know for sure but there can be no doubt of the strength of the family's collective character.

Caitlin was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma in January 2009.

She started her treatment at the Royal Marsden hospital in February – just after she had managed to achieve a long-held ambition.

Alison explains: "I'd said to Caitlin once that my grandmother's hair was long enough for her to sit on. That became her ambition and she'd done it just before she was diagnosed.

"Thankfully, she could just do it but then her chemotherapy started and her hair began to thin so I said: 'Why don't we cut your plaits off and keep them? That way, you won't have lost your hair'."

The plaits still lie, neat and shiny, in a decorated box.

But Caitlin's face is bright under its new elf-style haircut, which she shapes with her fingers into tiny spikes.

It looks almost defiant, a reminder that this is someone who has not allowed cancer to change her positive outlook and who will therefore not let the loss of her hair stand in her way.

Looking back over the last 18 months, the eight-year-old says pensively: "I do sometimes have a little cry – but then I get over it.

"I liked my hair long but it took ages to dry so I like it short, too – there are benefits."

The Kydds knew from the start that two periods of intense chemotherapy would be separated by the removal of Caitlin's femur, from just above her knee to, and including, her hip joint.

The operation involved replacing the bone with an extendable prosthetic, which doctors can "stretch" as Caitlin grows, without her needing continual operations.

Alison explains: "It's unbelievable. Ten years ago, she would have lost the leg.

"Then they developed these prosthetics but, of course, children grow so they had to be cranked with a key to extend them, which meant an operation every time.

"But this one has an electro-magnetic motor so she'll just have to put her leg in a mini MRI machine, the doctor turns the dial and that's it – in eight minutes, it's 4mm longer and she won't need a replacement for a few years.

"It's incredible – we've been so fortunate in so many ways."

It might seem strange that Alison can appreciate that good fortune but she is not the only one.

Caitlin knows what would have happened had the treatment been unsuccessful and, to show her gratitude, she decided to raise money for the Royal Marsden, the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital in Stanmore and the William Harvey Hospital, which became almost a "second home" for the family.

Alison says: "As well as the boot fair and collection, they held a non-uniform day at Churchill Primary School.

"On the way into school when we took the money, she found a penny on the floor.

"Normally, she'd ask me to keep it for her but she handed it in with the rest. I said, 'Don't you want to keep your lucky penny?'

"And she said, 'No, I've had my luck. Now I want the other children to have it, too.'

"I just hope she doesn't change and keeps that spirit but if something like this doesn't knock her down, nothing will.

"The world's her oyster now and she can do anything."

Caitlin herself says she is now nearly back to her old self.

Of course, there will be lasting effects from her illness; she will have regular check-ups and won't be able to do everything physically that otherwise would have been possible but the scars, barely noticeable even now, will fade and she has got over the limp once so it seems there is nothing to stop her doing so again.

Sitting in their sunny kitchen, Alison and Caitlin are surrounded by reminders of the love and support of others, which has helped so much during their struggle.

The cards sent by Caitlin's school friends and family line the walls but one, in the shape of a heart, hangs from the ceiling.

It is one of many made by Caitlin for Harvey – one after every period of chemotherapy – to tell her brother she loved him.

But the only message discernible on it is "Love Caitlin".