Isabelle is seven and lives with her mum Iseult, dad Matthew, twin sister Molly (7) and older sister Lucy (9). In 2020, Isabelle was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (A.L.L) and underwent treatment during lockdown. 

This International Childhood Cancer Day, Isabelle and her family are sharing their experience of childhood cancer to raise vital funds and awareness.

The twins were born in January 2019. During their first Christmas, shortly before their first birthday, everyone kept saying, “You’re out of the woods now. Everything will be much easier now that you’re through the first year.”

Over Christmas, I started noticing that Isabelle was really pale. I had this awful pain in my chest, a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. I brought her to the GP, who said, “Oh, it’s winter, it’ll be fine.” Isabelle and Molly are quite sallow, whereas my eldest, Lucy, and I are very pale. I brought Isabelle to the GP again and this time took Molly with me. I said, “Just look at Molly, then look at Isabelle. She’s clearly pale”. Again, the GP reassured me it was nothing to worry about.

The following week, I brought Isabelle back again. This time, the GP agreed with me and suggested it could be her iron or blood levels and explored the possibility she wasn’t eating enough. Isabelle loves her food, so I knew this wasn’t the case. The alternative was that Isabelle was losing iron somehow, but there was no obvious cause. Or that it could be something else. That ‘something else’ worried me. We were told we needed to go to the hospital to get Isabelle checked. I thought, ok, maybe she’s coeliac or something like that. Then my mum, who must have suspected something already, said, “Come on, come home and have a quick bite to eat before you go up to the hospital.”

Matt and I packed a bag for Isabelle and headed up to Temple Street. After a couple of hours, we were put in a side room, and I never want to be put in a side room in a hospital ever again. It seems to be the only place where they tell you bad news. They said, “We’ve found cancerous blasts in Isabelle’s blood sample, and we’re pretty sure she has leukaemia. We’re going to send her up to Crumlin for confirmation, and we’ll try to get you a bed in John’s Ward.” And that was that.

A week later, COVID hit. Thankfully, we were together for the diagnosis. We got to be there for each other, to be told that news as a family, and we had a week where we were all together. Isabelle’s sisters, Molly and Lucy, got to come into the hospital the day before everything shut down.

Just one last visit before the doors closed.

We thought we’d only be in hospital for six nights or so, just for an initial round of treatment. We ended up there for eleven weeks.

We spent two and a half years in and out of hospital overall, often every other week. That’s not typical for most children with leukaemia, but Isabelle just kept picking up bugs. Every time she had a temperature, we had to go back in. Infections, complications, it was relentless. Alongside all of that, Molly, her identical twin sister, was being tested too. They’re a rare type of identical twins who shared a placenta, which meant the doctors had to monitor Molly closely due to the nature of blood cancer. Every couple of months, Molly’s blood was taken, and we’d wait anxiously to hear whether she was ok.

In 2022, Isabelle rang the bell. She’s now cancer-free. That moment was everything.

We’ve been incredibly lucky to have had Aoife as our Cancer Support Specialist. Aoife was our play therapist on the ward in Crumlin initially. She later joined Cancer Fund for Children and continued to support our family in her new role. She has been an absolute angel. When Isabelle rang the bell, Aoife got in touch and offered to come out and provide individual support to the girls in our home. It was such a blessing, especially because our whole experience happened during COVID. It was a huge life change. We were completely cut off from everyone. We moved in with my parents for 18 months. My husband, who is a dairy farmer, couldn’t work for two years as we were in and out of hospital so much, often for a week at a time. He would be at home looking after Lucy and Molly and helping Lucy adjust to primary school while I was in the hospital with Isabelle. I had been self-employed but couldn’t return to work. You couldn’t make any plans, things went from being ok to being in hospital in the space of a few hours.

Underneath it all, buried as deep as possible, was that absolute fear that things might not end well.

Isabelle went through a phase of only eating ham during one of her treatments. The nurses would get her a ham sandwich and then take the ham out, just to get her to eat something. They were amazing. The hospital staff always reminded us that the girls were ok, that they were loved. But as a parent, you still worry, you wonder if they’ll hold onto these memories.

Molly, especially, has struggled with it. She’ll say things like, “You left me when I was a baby to be with Isabelle. You must love her more.” And that’s heartbreaking for me as a mum. Of course I don’t love any of them differently, you just do what you need to do in the moment. But it’s hard for their little minds to understand all of it. Matt and I had been out of work for a long time. There was a lot of fear around returning to normal life. Of course we have to go back to normal, but it’s not easy.

Aoife gave us a chance to breathe when things were really tough.

Aoife would come in, and I could finally sit down with a cup of tea, maybe get a few jobs done that had been sitting there for weeks. Just knowing the girls were happy with Aoife, it was such a relief. She has been brilliant, giving them the tools to cope. When you’re in the thick of it, you don’t always get the chance to think about what will help them long-term. Aoife made the girls things that have really helped them to know what to do when they’re having a hard day. She’s just wonderful. To have that support is huge, knowing someone is out there who’ll check in on you from time to time, make sure you’re alright and remind you to check in on yourself. Our family have of course been a massive support, but it was really special to have someone like Aoife who has supported families through this before.

Daisy Lodge was a place where we could finally get a break and still feel safe. We were constantly scared, so to be somewhere that felt secure and peaceful was incredibly special. It gave us space to reconnect, to stop and look around, and to remember what’s truly important. Being nestled in the woods, surrounded by nature and love, it’s a place that holds you gently. Everyone there encourages you to relax and enjoy the time together. It was beautiful. The setting, the atmosphere, everything about it was just gorgeous. I’ll never forget the massage I had at Daisy Lodge, and the lovely therapist. She said to me “You can let go now, I’m going to look after you. You’ve been looking after everyone for so long. This is your turn to be looked after.” I burst into tears and realised I had been holding it in for so long.

She gave me permission to let go.

In 2024, our family had the amazing experience of being on The Late Late Show. The girls absolutely loved it. They still talk about it, they were full of excitement and just felt like little princesses. It was such a joyful moment for them, and for us. A bit surreal, but so lovely. They were so good to us. Honestly, what an experience. It was just so special.

Isabelle has just started senior infants, she’s doing great. Isabelle and Molly are in the same class. They looked so different during Isabelle’s treatment, and it’s lovely to look at them and see twins again. Lucy’s a superstar. She is an amazing big sister. She was only two and a half when Isabelle and Molly were born, three when Isabelle was diagnosed. She was only small too. She has been amazing throughout everything.

People don’t often talk about childhood cancer, it’s a scary thought. The biggest learning I had was to lean into the resilience of your children. They are just amazing. Isabelle would get an injection and five minutes later be laughing. Lean into that. Try to take energy from it. Try to focus on the happy moments and the joy as much as you can. I struggled with my mental health as we neared the end of the journey, and it took one of Isabelle’s nurses asking me if I was ok and suggesting I speak to my GP for me to realise I needed support. It’s a hard journey, and it’s ok to need help. The support is out there.

Don’t forget about yourself.

It’s so easy to get caught up in everything. There may be times when you feel alone, but you’re not. There are so many families navigating a similar road, a community who has your back. So many amazing people who are prepared to do whatever they can to help.

You can help us provide vital support to more children like Isabelle. Click here to make a donation today!