You want to be able to say 'it will all be okay'

FLICKING through the well-thumbed photo album, Katy and Rosie Lamb laugh together as they argue over where and when certain pictures were taken.

The album is packed with treasured photos of Gordon, the handsome son and big brother who lost his long, brave battle with cancer.

The teenager was a keen pupil at Edinburgh Academy who loved playing rugby and doing watersports. And he was very close to his family - mum Katy, sister Rosie and dad Crawford - who lived in South Queensferry and did everything together, from camping trips to visits to the cinema.

Gordon was looking forward to a school skiing trip when, shortly before his 15th birthday, he complained about a pain in his calf.

Several visits to doctors and consultants for tests followed but nothing could prepare them for the news: Gordon had been diagnosed with a type of cancer called Ewing's Sarcoma.

As they recall the moment they were told the devastating news, Katy and Rosie clutch each other's hands and tears pour down their cheeks.

"You just feel total disbelief, because you always assume it will be something else," says Katy, 55. "It was really hard for Rosie, who was only ten. And, as a mum and dad, you want to be able to say, 'everything is going to be OK'. But suddenly there were no rules and regulations. With cancer, no-one can guarantee you anything."

After he was diagnosed in January 2000, Gordon had four chemotherapy sessions at the Sick Kids, and in June of that year he underwent surgery at the hospital to remove the tumour. His leg was in plaster for the next four months and he had a further 13 chemotherapy sessions.

"It is quite strange going in to the ward the first time and seeing all of these children with no hair, eyelashes and eyebrows," recalls Katy. "And I think it was quite strange for his friends the first time too. And the sessions were hard for Gordon, being in crutches and on a drip at the same time. It was a struggle to do anything, even a trip to the toilet."

They were hard times for the family, too. "It doesn't sound much in the grand scheme of things, but the disruption to our routine was very hard," Katy says. "You can't put a date in your diary. If someone asks you to do anything you have to just wait and see because you don't know when the next hospital trip will be. Your life is in limbo."

Gordon missed the skiing trip and a diving trip to the Red Sea because of his chemotherapy treatment, but he still attended classes at school. Rosie says: "He would go to school at every opportunity, though he'd lose four straight days for chemo sessions, and maybe more only if he felt unwell afterwards. But he would also try to study in hospital and worked when he could."

Despite such incredible setbacks, Gordon gained eight GCSEs and four Highers, and he was thrilled when he was offered a place to study architecture at Dundee University.

Given the all-clear, he was able to return to the life he had enjoyed before, spending time with his friends and playing rugby. He even took part in the Great Wilderness Challenge, a sponsored challenge in the Highlands he had completed in previous years, and raised money for charity.

In April 2002, he went on a Combined Cadet Force (CCF) course. When he came back, he told his mum he had felt a pain in the side of his face. Because his monthly check-ups hadn't picked up anything wrong, doctors thought it would be harmless.

But results of further tests stunned the family. Gordon had a secondary, inoperable tumour in his brain. "He went for radiotherapy sessions at the Western General," explains Katy.

"It was so hard for him. He wasn't just living with the psychological effects but as a teenager you are very aware of what you look like anyway, and he was taking steroids which caused a lot of swelling."

During Gordon's second year at university, more tumours were discovered. The cancer had spread and doctors could do no more. On August 1, 2004, after a four-and-a-half-year fight, Gordon died.

His funeral, at Mortonhall Cemetery, was packed out with mourners and a remembrance service was also held at Aberfoyle Church in the Trossachs. Katy and Crawford, 59, now live in nearby Kinlochard.

Katy and Rosie are both supporters of the Teenage Cancer Trust and speak highly of the charity's work. "We had a collection for the trust at Gordon's funeral, and then I wanted to get more involved," says Katy. "Cancer in teenagers is different, it develops more quickly, and the trust can do research into that side of things. And until you go through what we did with Gordon, you don't appreciate how important these charities offering support are. That support has been so important to us."

Another aim of the campaign is to open a separate unit for teenagers - filled with computers, TVs, pool tables and kitchens - at the Western General Hospital.

Rosie says there were many times when Gordon would have appreciated a unit like this during his treatment.

"When he was in hospital he would often play with the younger kids, teaching them chess, but after his chemo he could get irritable," she recalls. "Having a separate room for teenagers where he could watch TV or have internet access would have been really good for him. He also studied for his exams while he was in for his chemo, and would have benefited from having a quieter place to do this."

Rosie, now 18, is studying medicine at Edinburgh University. She says: "I hadn't thought about doing it before, but I chose medicine because of what I encountered though Gordon - his treatment and the hospitals - and want to do something that will help people like him."

Though there are plenty of tears, there are smiles too when Katy and Rosie remember Gordon, who they describe as a brave, kind-hearted boy.

Katy says: "Gordon never said 'why me?' He just accepted it and said, 'this is my cancer - this is what I've got'. He never got angry and was determined to make the most of things, which he did."