Brendan

Hey everyone – I wanted to share a little about my journey. My name is Brendan Finneran, and I’m an osteosarcoma survivor.

Back in 2006, I was a healthy, athletic high school senior living in California. I was playing football and lacrosse, just barely scraping by in school, and had just gotten a lacrosse scholarship to Siena College in New York. I felt like life was finally lining up for me—until a normal hit during practice turned into something much bigger.

It started with what looked like a bruise on my leg. Nothing major—trainers told me to ice it, pop some ibuprofen, and shake it off. But the pain didn’t stop. It got worse. Before I knew it, I was taking 16 ibuprofens a day just to get through the pain. That led to X-rays. Then MRIs. Then a biopsy. Then came the words none of us ever expect to hear:You have osteosarcoma. You need chemo and surgery. You’ll never play lacrosse again.

At 18, hearing “bone cancer” felt like getting hit by a truck. Within months, I went from 210 lbs to 125 lbs. My hair was gone. My body was wrecked by the chemo, I had infections, complications, and even a night where I truly believed I wasn’t going to make it. I told my mom where I wanted to be buried. That’s how real it got.

But… I made it.

In June 2006, they removed a third of the bone in my right leg—including most of my knee—and replaced it with titanium. I was told I wouldn’t walk for six months, wouldn’t run for years, and would never play lacrosse again.

Six weeks later, I stood up. I took a step. Then I picked up a lacrosse stick.

Over the next year, I slowly got back on my feet—literally. I returned to Siena that fall. I couldn’t play in games right away, but I was practicing again. My teammates didn’t treat me like “the cancer kid.” They just said, “This is Finn. He’s on the team.”

That meant everything.

Doctors still monitor me regularly, and I know I may need a knee replacement in the future. But I also know this: Osteosarcoma took a lot from me—but not everything. I worked hard to reclaim my life, my health, and my identity.

If you’re reading this and you’re in the middle of it—sick, scared, frustrated—just know: You’re not alone. You are stronger than you think. Some days I was crawling just to make it to the bathroom. Some days I just screamed into a pillow. But every step forward counts. Every win—big or small—matters.

Cancer tried to take everything from me. I took it back.

Sending strength to everyone in this community.