I had a really happy childhood. I lived in a loving household - mum and dad were incredibly supportive, and they worked extremely hard to ensure my sister and I had every opportunity in life.
 

Growing up, I was a super sporty kid. If I had the chance, I’d always be outside running around. I started playing Aussie Rules when I was six years old – my whole family is crazy about AFL, so I started playing as soon as I was old enough. While growing up, my dream was to captain Hawthorn to a premiership.

 

I had lots of friends and a loving family – there was nothing that I’d ever change about my childhood. Not even the cancer diagnosis.

Being such an active kid, I ran a lot. Things first started taking a turn for the worse when I started noticing a pain above my left knee – I was just nine years old. Mum thought it was just a growing pain, but the pain persisted.

 

Mum was a nurse and knew something wasn’t quite right. She conferred with a GP, and I had an x-ray taken right after seeing the doctor that afternoon. Shortly after, Mum was called by a specialist at a radiology clinic, and my parents told me we had to fly to Sydney the next morning (we lived in Canberra).

 

By mid-morning the next day, the three of us were sitting in an oncologist’s office, and I was told I had bone cancer.

 

Nine is a strange age to be told you have bone cancer. I knew it was serious, but I was completely oblivious to what the next 12 months would look like – and the challenges that would soon follow.

 

My doctors and parents never allowed me to think that I wasn’t going to be okay. They were a significant influence on my positive attitude – I never allowed the thought of not making it enter my mind. The only negative thought I had was: ‘Why is this happening to me? Why couldn’t this happen to bad people instead?’

The doctors started me on chemotherapy. There were 10 courses for me to get through, once a month, and each session required me to stay overnight at the hospital for four days. The treatment would take a week to kick in, and I’d feel really, really crook for two weeks.

 

During those two weeks, I couldn’t go to school – my immune system was so weak that I couldn’t risk coming into contact with even the common cold. I’d recover for a week, and then it was back in again.

 

While undergoing chemotherapy, there was one main concern during this two-week recovery period: chickenpox, which made its way through most schools. I was unlucky enough to acquire the virus, which prompted a huge scare for my parents and doctors – they thought my body didn’t have enough to fight it while undergoing chemotherapy.

 

I got really sick. Once a healthy nine-year-old a matter of months ago, my weight dropped dangerously low. Mum told me I weighed 27 kilograms at one stage; I was a rag doll. I couldn’t stomach anything – I was barely hanging on.

 

Three months into chemo, I had my left leg amputated just above the knee. My dreams of being a professional AFL player were taken away, and I had no idea what to do with my life.

Throughout my treatment, my parents and doctor were extremely positive – they never let me entertain the idea that everything wasn’t going to be alright. This had a massive impact on my mindset and, in hindsight, my recovery.

 

One of the many things they did was to encourage me to visualise my recovery on paper. I’d draw what I thought the cancer looked like, and I’d draw tanks and army men – the chemotherapy – all around it, shooting at it, and that was one of the main ways I stayed positive.

I also joined Camp Quality, which also had a massive impact on me. They help kids with cancer through camps and weekends away, and it’s a really nice time. My doctor helped structure my chemotherapy plan around these events, because he knew it was incredibly important for me to remain upbeat and forward-looking. I couldn’t be more thankful for my support group, who also helped me through my second diagnosis.

I was put in the clear at age 10, but my remission program had me going back to the hospital every three months for two years. I got used to going through all the tests, catching up with my doctor and getting told that everything was fine. But on my last check-up, I was told that there was cancer in my lung.

 

I completely broke down and was hysterical in the doctor’s office. I was 12 years old, and I knew that the kids who usually didn’t make it often had brain or lung cancer. After I’d calmed down, I asked the doctor what my chances were. “50-50”, he said.

 

I knew I had a fighting chance, and I did my best to remain positive. My doctor laid it all out for me – there’d be 12 courses of chemotherapy, and there’d be an operation almost immediately. He laid out a clear plan for me to follow and stay focussed on, which really helped my mental outlook.

 

Long story short, the surgery went successfully, and I went on to beat cancer and found my love for wheelchair basketball, competing for Australia in the Paralympic Games.

 

When I was in the clear, my parents revealed that they agreed with my doctor to tell me a white lie: my actual chances of surviving cancer were about 10 per cent when I relapsed. They made a big call to protect me from knowing the truth. Not knowing my real chances allowed me to block out all negative thoughts and helped me focus on recovery – and that decision is a big part of why I’m here today.

When I was 18, my dad asked me a question: If I could continue my life with two legs but erase all my memories and experiences of beating cancer, would I do it?

 

I said no immediately. It might sound like a strange answer, but I know I wouldn’t be the same person I am now without going through what I did. Looking back, I’ve lived a very lucky life, and I’ve learned a lot through my journey.

 

Firstly, life is extremely precious. I try my best to live life without regrets, and it’s helped me become someone I’m proud of.

 

Secondly, the odds are there to be defied. When we’re presented with situations with poor outcomes, tell yourself that you can change things around, and that it’s within your power to do so.

 

Lastly, never, ever underestimate what a positive mindset can help you achieve – you'll most likely surprise yourself.