Brave Chantelle had just had her leg amputated following a cancer diagnosis. But after her dad snapped a photo of her, scammers pulled a shocking stunt...
Hanging up the phone, I slumped on to the sofa in shock.
At the age of 10, I’d been diagnosed with Type 1 Neurofibromatosis, which caused small tumours to grow along my nerves.
Fifteen years later, my right ankle had four tumours, which in recent years had been causing me problems.
They’d grown in size and were red and itchy.
Doctors had suggested they be removed and sent for a biopsy.
Now, on the phone, I’d received the worst news possible…
The masses were cancerous and to stop it spreading, the best solution was to amputate my right leg above my knee.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I said to my mum, in tears.
She’d rushed over to the house I shared with my partner Jack and my son Harry, two.
Growing up, we’d always been assured the tumours were unlikely to become cancerous, so it was a terrible blow.
My first thought was for my son.
'This is the last time I'll walk on this leg'
‘How will I look after Harry? I won’t be able to run around after him,’ I said as I watched my sweet boy toddle across the living room.
Surgeons had told me amputation was the best chance of saving my life, since my type of cancer didn’t react well to chemo and radiotherapy.
But I couldn’t help but think of all the things I wouldn’t be able to do without my leg.
I loved hiking, walking the dog and was a bit of a gym bunny.
Would I have to give these things up?
I also had plans to be a nurse.
How would I complete my training, let alone treat patients when I qualified?
Apart from this, I was a young woman and took pride in my appearance. The loss of a leg would rock my sense of who I was.
But I didn’t have long to consider things, and in the end, I realised I had to go ahead with the surgery.
Just two months later, I slid into the passenger seat to as we headed to the hospital.
‘Are you OK?’ Jack asked as we drove mostly in silence.
I nodded, but in reality, I was terrified.
Pulling into the hospital car park, I geared myself up to get out.
‘I don’t want to go in,’ I said to Jack.
But I knew that if I wanted to be around to see Harry grow, I had to be brave.
After pre-op assessments, I sat jiggling my legs nervously until a nurse came to get me.
‘Are you happy to walk down?’ she asked.
With Jack one side of me and my dad the other, we made our way down the long corridors to the operating theatre.
‘This is the last time I’ll walk on this leg,’ I said.
It still didn’t seem real that, in a matter of hours, the lower half of my right leg would be gone.
As we reached the theatre, the room flooded with people.
Lying on the operating table, I looked up at the anaesthetist.
‘I’m going to put the needle in now, Chantelle,’ he said.
‘Please don’t, I can’t do this,’ I panicked.
I was so distressed, one of the nurses came over to give me a hug.
‘You must do this,’ she told me, taking my hands as I slowly counted back from 10.
Hours later, coming round from the surgery, I could feel immense pain in my right knee.
‘My knee’s locked, it really hurts,’ I croaked to one of the nurses.
'I've beaten cancer this way'
‘You don’t have a knee, sweetheart,’ she said, fetching me some more painkillers.
I was experiencing phantom limb, where my body remembered the sensation and position of my knee and leg, despite the fact it was no longer there.
I put on a brave face as friends and family visited me in the hospital.
But behind closed doors, I struggled. I couldn’t even face looking at my leg in bandages.
The day after the operation, my dad came to see me.
As I wheeled myself to the family room in a wheelchair, he paused and pulled out his phone.
‘Let me take a photo of my brave girl,’ he said. I smiled for the camera.
‘One for Facebook,’ he said before posting the photo to let our friends and family know I was OK.
As the days went on, I became more comfortable with the amputation.
‘I’ve beaten cancer this way,’ I said to my friends.
Although I knew it would take a lot of adjusting to get used to life with one leg, the surgery had given me my future back.
Two days after the surgery, I grabbed some crutches and my lovely nurses helped me walk for the first time.
And two weeks after that, I was learning to use a prosthetic leg.
I was amazed at being able to walk so quickly.
Only two months after the surgery, I was back at the gym.
‘You’re amazing!’ my friends Kimberley and Kirsten said.
They’d been such a huge support to me.
‘Well, leg day is easier now,’ I said laughing.
I didn’t feel like I was doing anything special – I just wanted to make the most my life.
I started posting on TikTok and Instagram, sharing how I was adapting to life as an amputee.
The response was amazing, and before long, news outlets picked up on my story.
Even if I help just one person going through the same thing, it’ll be worth it, I thought.
Then one evening, I was sitting with my mum when I got an email.
‘Who’s Mr Motivator?’ I asked her.
I’d been invited to appear in a promotional video in London for Cancer Research Race for Life’s 30th anniversary.
‘Chantelle!’ Mum gasped, before whipping out her phone and showing me his famous workout videos.
Weeks later, donning a neon blue leotard and matching headband, I was in London, where I met other celebs such as Anthea Turner and Terry from East 17.
It felt so good to be doing something for the charity that had funded my own life-saving treatment.
I posted about the day on my social media, and as the weeks went on, I received so many lovely messages.
You’ve helped me to see that I can do whatever I want as an amputee, read one.
Then a few months later, my dad called me.
‘Have you seen the photo? They’ve Photoshopped her head on to your body!’ he said.
‘What are you on about, Dad?’ I said.
Dad directed me to an Angelina Jolie fan page on Facebook, and there it was.
It was the snap my dad had taken of my in my wheelchair at hospital – but the film star’s head had been Photoshopped on to my body.
And now, it had gone viral.
Underneath, they’d falsely claimed she’d lost her leg in a crash.
They hadn’t even bothered to get rid of my blonde hair, giving Angie a rather dodgy balayage.
And her head was completely out of proportion to my body!
Underneath the article were thousands of comments all calling out the fake photo.
They ranged from the funny – Angelina Jolie wouldn’t be seen dead in Converse – to the mean – That girl is too big to be Angelina Jolie.
I realised scammers had taken my photo from newspapers and doctored it.
Initially, I was shocked and a bit creeped out.
But I soon saw the funny side – and it was definitely a first!
Since losing my leg, I’ve had a lot of firsts – I’ve attended my first festival, Radio 1’s Big Weekend, and I’ll even be starting an access to nursing course soon.
My 26th birthday is coming up and I’m going to be spending it hiking on the hills.
It’s something I never thought I’d be able to do, but I’m determined not to let anything stop me.
Chantelle Cox, 25, Dundee, Scotland
As told to Lily Smith Email mystory@bauermedia.co.uk
*Chantelle is raising money for a new prosthetic, to donate search Chantelle Cox on Go Fund Me.
Follow Chantelle on TikTok @Chantelle_cox01 and Instagram @Chantellecox2