A mild illness after a family trip to New Zealand quickly spiralled into something far more sinister for one Sydney family, as a seemingly harmless cold led to a diagnosis so rare and aggressive it would change their daughter's life forever.
Young parents Emily and Adrian had returned home with her 10-month-old daughter Fio in January 2025 when the first signs of her stage 4 cancer diagnosis appeared.
'It wasn't very alarming, she had a bit of a cold and it just didn't go away,' Emily told the Daily Mail.
But within days, something changed.
During bath time one evening, Emily noticed a small lump on Fio's neck - an enlarged lymph node that doctors initially dismissed as normal, reassuring the family it was likely just a reactive response to illness.
'We had no idea what to do. They told us it was pretty normal and sent us home,' Emily said.
But over the next few days, the lump grew 'bigger and harder' and more worryingly, Fio herself began to change in ways that were impossible to ignore.
Young parents Emily and Adrian had returned home with her 10-month-old daughter Fio in January 2025 when the first signs of her stage 4 cancer diagnosis appeared.
'She was struggling to breathe, and then she vomited up blood. She was breathing a bit better after that, but we were still so worried.'
What followed was a slow, agonising descent into the unknown - days spent in hospital waiting for answers, watching their baby grow weaker while doctors worked through possibilities that seemed to become more serious with each passing hour.
'It felt like we went down this path of... it could be this or it could be that,' Emily said.
'And we went down the most unlikely and the worst thing that it could be.'
A diagnosis no parent is prepared for
Scans revealed the truth: what had been thought to be a swollen lymph node was in fact a rapidly growing tumour - a Stage 4 neuroblastoma, an aggressive childhood cancer that develops from nerve tissue and can spread quickly through the body.
By the time it was discovered, the tumour had already taken over much of Fio's right chest cavity, collapsing part of her lung, pushing her windpipe aside, and extending into her spinal cord.
'She was only 10 months old. And with this type of tumour, it grows very, very quickly,' Emily said.
During bath time one evening, Emily noticed a small lump on Fio's neck - an enlarged lymph node that doctors initially dismissed as normal, reassuring the family it was likely just a reactive response to illness.
Scans revealed the truth: what had been thought to be a swollen lymph node was in fact a rapidly growing tumour - a Stage 4 neuroblastoma, an aggressive childhood cancer that develops from nerve tissue and can spread quickly through the body.
By the time it was discovered, the tumour had taken over much of Fio's right chest cavity, collapsing part of her lung, pushing her windpipe aside, and extending into her spinal cord.
Within days, the pressure on her spinal cord caused permanent loss of movement and sensation from the rib cage down, a devastating complication that would shape the rest of Fio's life.
Doctors later told the family that if the tumour had grown just slightly further, she could have lost movement in her arms as well.
Once the diagnosis became clear, everything changed in an instant.
'I think the whole hospital sort of sprang into motion,' Emily said.
Fio was rushed into emergency surgery that same night - a whirlwind of procedures that included a biopsy and the insertion of a central line for chemotherapy - while her parents struggled to process what was happening around them.
'We just sat and processed. Everything was already happening behind the scenes.'
What they didn't know at the time was just how critical the situation had become.
'Fio's heart stopped beating when she was on stage. All these very dramatic things that we didn't expect were happening,' Emily said.
Fio was resuscitated after 90 seconds, before being placed in intensive care, where she would remain for months.
The weeks that followed were defined by a quiet, emotional devastation that is harder to describe - the slow disappearance of the child they knew.
'She didn't smile for more than two months,' Emily said.
For a time, they didn't hear her voice at all, after she was intubated and later given a tracheostomy.
There were moments where the fear changed from survival to something even more intangible - whether the illness had changed her in ways they could not undo.
'Has this changed our daughter? Her personality? Will she ever laugh and smile again?' Emily wondered.
Fio underwent four rounds of chemotherapy in ICU, spending her first birthday in hospital, much of the time sedated, connected to machines, and being fed through a tube - a stark contrast to the life she had known just weeks earlier.
'It felt like the rest of the world was going by while we were in here figuring out what the next day looked like.'
'We couldn't do anything; we were too scared to plan for the future.'
In May 2025, after months of treatment, Fio was declared cancer-free - a milestone that should have marked the end of the ordeal.
But for Emily, it was the beginning of a different fear.
'It's going to sound really crazy, but by the end of the whole cancer treatment... the illness wasn't the biggest thing anymore.'
Because while the cancer had been treated, its impact remained.
'I was [then worried about] where the cancer had left her,' she said.
Now two years old, Fio is learning to navigate the world in a body that works differently, using her upper strength to commando crawl and beginning to practice with a toddler wheelchair while undergoing daily therapy to build strength and independence.
'She wants to walk; she wants to run,' Emily said.
There are conversations still to come - about why her body is different; about what she can and cannot do - and for Emily, those moments feel just as daunting as anything they faced in hospital.
'It's not easy thinking about when she eventually goes to school and wonders why her friends can do things she cannot.'
Today, Fio's life is full - of music, animals, trips to the zoo, library visits and playdates
Today, Fio's life is full - of music, animals, trips to the zoo, library visits and playdates - but it is also structured around therapy, medical appointments, and ongoing monitoring.
She will undergo scans every three months for the next five years, each one carrying the weight of what has already happened.
'As her mum, I always worry,' Emily said.
And yet, despite everything, there is also resilience that has taken root in the aftermath - a reframing of what matters, shaped by an experience no parent would ever choose.
For Emily, the hardest lesson has been learning that survival is not the end of the story - that sometimes, the real challenge begins afterwards, in the long, uncertain process of rebuilding a life that looks nothing like the one you imagined.
'The cancer battle itself wasn't the big battle for us. It's more about what the rest of her life looks like.'
If there is anything she hopes other families take from their story, it is the importance of holding onto the smallest moments, even when everything feels overwhelming.
'There are small wins and small joys in every day,' she said.
'Sometimes it's just holding onto those things.'
Emily and Adrian are sharing Fio's story in support of Run2Cure Neuroblastoma, taking part on Sunday 29th March in Sydney.