The idyllic life of Charlotte, a busy physiotherapist in the picturesque Welsh Vale of Glamorgan was abruptly shattered when her five-year-old daughter, Betsy, recently fell ill.
What initially seemed like a simple ear infection quickly escalated into a terrifying ordeal. “I was desperate, was in complete panic, I knew that there was something wrong,” Charlotte recalled, her voice tinged with the lingering fear of that uncertain time. “She was fatigued, her personality had changed and she didn’t want to play with her friends or her sister anymore.”
Charlotte’s maternal instincts, honed by years of caring for others, screamed a warning.
Despite initial misdiagnoses, her persistence led to a series of blood tests, the results of which would irrevocably alter the course of their lives.
The drive to the Princess of Wales Hospital in Bridgend was a blur of dread. “For that drive there, I couldn’t speak,” Charlotte said.
“Panic set in, that sickness and I remember just shaking. My whole body was trembling until I got to the hospital.”
The news delivered within the sterile confines of the hospital room was devastating: Betsy had acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL), a cancer of the blood and bone marrow.
“I had a gut-feeling, I knew it was going to be (leukaemia) but it still hit me like a bus,” Charlotte told the media, her voice raw with emotion. “I was numb. I remember just standing up and holding onto the bed and not being able to speak, I got that noise in your ear like you see in films and everything sort of stopped.”
The world as they knew it crumbled.
The journey ahead was daunting. Betsy was immediately admitted to Noah’s Ark Children’s Hospital for Wales in Cardiff, where the reality of their situation began to sink in.
“The treatment for leukaemia is very long and very gruelling and the first six weeks are particularly difficult,” says Charlotte. “They’re put on a steroid which completely changes their personality and the way that they look and I don’t think we were quite prepared for all that.”
Betsy, with a surprising resilience, interjects with a giggle: “I was really fat.”
“She was very, very poorly,” Charlotte confirmed, her voice filled with the pain of watching her child endure such hardship.
Amidst the overwhelming gloom of hospital stays and gruelling treatments, a glimmer of hope emerged. Charlotte’s husband, Christian, a renowned racehorse trainer, had a horse named Kitty’s Light competing in the prestigious Scottish Grand National.
“Kitty’s Light came at the right time in our lives,” says Charlotte, finding solace in the memory. “We were having a particularly bad day with Betsy at home and I wasn’t even interested,” she recalls. “I wasn’t going to watch it but my mother-in-law and my mother were like ‘come on, we’ll put it on, it’s nice for her to see her daddy on telly’.”
Against all odds, Kitty’s Light emerged victorious.
“It was so emotional, I was jumping around the place after the first fence,” said Charlotte, her voice brimming with a joy that had been long absent.
Betsy, ever the observant child, added: “All I remember is mum screaming up and down. I had a headache as well – and that made it worse.”
“I’m sorry,” giggles Charlotte, the memory bringing a bittersweet smile to her face.
“It was just that kick up the bum that said ‘come on, things are going to be alright, it isn’t all doom and gloom, we’re going to have some happiness along the way’,” added Charlotte. “It changed things for us, gave us a focus ... something to look forward to.”
The diagnosis of ALL had forced Charlotte and her family to confront their own strength and resilience. Part of it is that you’ve got no choice,” she said. “At the start I crumbled a little bit but you’ve got to change your mindset and it was finding the positives in every day ... that’s still what gets me through.”
The support of their community, from friends and family to the wider horse-racing world, provided an invaluable lifeline.
“The friendships that we’ve made will probably be forever now, for a lifetime. We’re very lucky,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude.
Betsy, now seven, is in the maintenance phase of her treatment, a period of ongoing care that will continue for the foreseeable future, until May 2025.
“It’s been a rollercoaster ride of emotions... but for now we’re managing well and we’re positive and we’re happy and we make the most of every day that we have together.”
Charlotte, forever changed by this experience, reflects on the profound impact it has had on her life.
“It’s completely changed my outlook on everything,” she says. “Nothing will ever worry me ever again ... nothing’s more important in life than your children, your family being well and healthy and happy. Anything else can be sorted out.”
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