The healing power of friendship in childhood cancer
The introduction that changed everything
In a quiet Melbourne café in 2017, two young girls sat across from each other. Lucy, 11, filled every pause with words - anything to make it less weird. Bridgette, 9, loved that this stranger sitting next to her also understood what it felt like to lose your hair before you'd even learnt how to braid it.
“I was so nervous to meet Lucy, but she just talked my ear off. She made me feel like everything was going to be okay,” said Bridgette.
“Bridgette was the first person I met who looked like me. Everyone else in the hospital was either way older or way younger. Bridgette was just like me, and that meant everything,” Lucy added.
That café conversation wasn't just small talk between two kids. It was the beginning of a friendship that would transform them from patients into powerful advocates for change.
When hospital hallways are your second home
While other kids their age worried about spelling tests and schoolyard drama, Lucy and Bridgette faced a different kind of childhood - one defined by chemo cycles, scan days, and the exhaustion of fighting for their lives.
But sometimes the most powerful medicine isn't found in an IV bag. Sometimes it's found in a text message before your scan, saying "Thinking of you.” Sometimes it's the friend who shows up to your hospital room with snacks and TikToks to watch, or someone who doesn't flinch when you say you're scared.
“We didn't have to explain ourselves. We both knew what a lumbar puncture or scan day felt like. We both knew the fear, the exhaustion, and the way cancer changes everything, even after it's gone,” Lucy explained.
The girls synchronised their hospital visits, just like other friends might coordinate sleepovers. You’d often find them in the music therapy room, making the most of their time unhooked from their IV poles and always laughing so loudly that everyone always knew they were there. Lucy and Bridgette’s friendship was one built on inside jokes, shared fears, and an unspoken promise to never let the other face any of this alone.
Beyond the oncology ward
After the intensity of their cancer treatment subsided, the girls began to embrace every moment of ‘normal’ they could find. As Year 12 began, Lucy supported Bridgette through her exam preparations and helped her navigate the special considerations available to students whose education had been disrupted by serious illness.
“Lucy reminded me that school wasn't the end of the world. She made me believe I could get through it,” Bridgette said.
The invisible battles continue
Now, having graduated from high school and both studying at Monash University in the hopes of one day having a career that betters the lives of paediatric oncology patients, they still face challenges that most of their classmates can't see. Lucy faces cognitive fatigue and working memory challenges, late effects from the treatments that saved her life but left their mark. Bridgette navigates the emotional aftershocks that can hit without warning.
“Sometimes I walk into a room, and it smells like the hospital, and Lucy's the only one who truly understands these feelings,” Bridgette added quietly.
This is the reality that often gets lost in the ‘cancer survivor success story’ narrative. Cancer’s after effects evolve and find new ways to remind you of what you've been through. But when you have a best friend who gets it, those invisible battles become less lonely.
Turning trauma into purpose
Lucy and Bridgette could have simply moved forward with their lives, but instead, they've chosen to transform their experience into advocacy for other children facing cancer.
Their work is deeply personal. It’s based on Lucy's memories of struggling through schoolwork with chemo brain and Bridgette's understanding of what it means to be scared and wondering if their friends will understand how cancer changes you.
"We want future kids to have a kinder experience with their treatments than we did; we want treatments that don't leave lasting damage," Lucy said with quiet determination.
As members of Children's Cancer CoLab's Patient and Family Advisory Committee, they're helping shape the future of childhood cancer research and innovation, with a particular focus on survivorship and living well. Some of the greatest challenges emerge after treatment ends, when young survivors need support navigating the intersection between health and life, particularly in education and career development.
In committee meetings, Lucy and Bridgette serve as the conscience of the room, asking the question that matters most: "But what about the kid who has to live with the consequences of these decisions?"
A message for researchers and clinicians
To the researchers, clinicians, and decision-makers who hold the future in their hands, Lucy and Bridgette offer this truth:
“It's hard to describe how childhood cancer blows up your life, but it does. So much of your life changes instantly and is never the same again. Cancer doesn’t end when treatment ends, not for the patients, parents or loved ones. Cancer lives on in our immense gratitude, but also in our trauma, shifted perspectives and memories. We hope for a future where chemotherapy is not a traumatic childhood memory for kids.”
A message for kids with cancer
And to the kids who are sitting in hospital rooms right now, scared, Lucy and Bridgette offer these messages of courage and hope:
“Cancer is not everything that you are; it's just part of your story. So, hang in there. Try to find the things that make your eyes light up. Do more of those.
It's okay to feel behind everyone else your age. Not everyone else your age is dealing with what you are.
Always remind yourself that your track record for making it through your bad days is perfect.
Don't let anyone who hasn't been in your shoes tell you how to tie your laces.
And lastly,
One day you will sit in the sun and things won't feel so bad.”
A lifelong bond
Today, Lucy and Bridgette continue to show up for each other in ways both big and small. Study sessions that accommodate chemo brain. Shared laughter over inside jokes that span more than a decade.
“We're each other's cheerleaders; we will forever support each other through everything,” Bridgette said with a smile.
Their friendship, forged through childhood cancer, proves something powerful: that connection doesn't just heal, it transforms. It turns survivors into advocates, patients into best friends, and pain into a collective purpose.
Lucy Fay Francazio was diagnosed with Stage III Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma at age 11 in 2016. She received treatment at Monash Medical Centre and Monash Children’s Hospital, and is now in remission.
Bridgette Veneris was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia at age 8 in 2015. She received treatment at Monash Medical Centre and Monash Children’s Hospital, and is now in remission.
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