LYING in her cot surrounded by cuddly toys, baby Sabina scans the room with curiosity before producing a cute, gummy grin for her doting mum and dad.
As her legs kick contentedly in the air and her dazzling blue eyes latch on to her parents, her mum leans in to stroke her soft mop of brown hair, and her dad provides the afternoon's entertainment courtesy of a rattle and some funny faces. It's a pi
cture perfect moment.
But with noisy machines bleeping in the background, medical tubes pumping drugs into the tot and nurses from the Royal Hospital for Sick Children's planned investigation unit watching over the seven-month-old, the harsh reality is that it's far from idyllic.
Under Sabina's top lies a thick white tube which is feeding chemotherapy into her tiny body to kill her large hepatoblastoma - a rare form of cancer that affects only one in 100,000 infants. And she's in far from familiar surroundings, as the rest of her family are back home, thousands of miles away in Bucharest, Romania.
But for now Edinburgh is home. "We didn't have a choice," says mum Cristina Cimpeanu, sadly, without taking her eyes off her daughter. "The doctors told us Sabina would die as she had a rare cancer, so we knew coming here was the only option."
Their decision to move to the Capital had to be taken very quickly after Sabina became feverish and lost her appetite.
"In early June, she had a big belly, she was sleepy and she had a fever. We called the doctor, and she felt a large tumour on the liver," adds the 37-year-old chemist.
Sabina was rushed to hospital where an abdominal ultrasound, CT scan and blood tests revealed an 11cm tumour on the right-hand side of her liver. Romanian doctors, not used to dealing with such cases, immediately administered a large dose of chemotherapy, but the family were warned she wouldn't have a good chance of survival.
"We started to think 'why us?' - probably the same question as anyone when there is something wrong," adds husband Florentin.
Devastated, yet undeterred, the 37-year-old electronics engineer began researching his daughter's condition on the internet, sifting through information and e-mailing various organisations, begging for help.
He made contact with the International Childhood Liver Tumour Strategy group, which brings together experts on rare cancers, and Edinburgh-based Jon Pritchard, a consultant at the Sick Kids, offered his help.
Cristina says: "He gave us hope. He was the only one who got in touch with us.
"We decided after the first round of chemotherapy to come over on June 25. We used all of our savings, a loan, our families and friends helped and we got the money for the first installment so we came."
The total cost of Sabina's treatment is estimated to be £25,000 which includes surgery, operating theatre time, pre and post-operative care, scans and staffing.
This sum is for medical expenses alone and doesn't take into account the family's costs - their flights to London, train journey to the Capital, food and accommodation for six months in the hospital's Parents Unit.
And with a family income of around £150 a month, curing Sabina is a fortune. But Cristina simply shrugs. "Here, she'd have bigger chances of survival."
The couple left their eight-year-old son behind with relatives because they couldn't afford to bring him as well. "It is very hard," says Cristina.
BUT Dr Pritchard is relieved they made the journey when they did. "Sabina has a malignant tumour - cancer of the liver - which fortunately hasn't spread to anywhere else in the body," he says.
And when asked whether further growth would have been fatal, his silence says yes.
He adds: "If Sabina's tumour hadn't have been diagnosed, it would have continued to grow, spreading to other organs. This one spreads within months."
The cause of the tumour is unknown, although Dr Pritchard believes it started before birth. "It's something that happens in one of the cells in the liver to change it from a normal well-behaved cell into a hooligan liver cancer cell."
Hepatoblastoma is very rare in children. One in 100,000 children develop the condition, compared with leukaemia, which is one in 2000. It is because of its rarity that doctors in the UK grouped together with colleagues around the world to create a group specialising in treating children's liver cancer.
There are 21 UK centres which deal with childhood cancer and each specialises in different types. Hepatoblastoma is Edinburgh's speciality, and while only ten UK centres can treat this condition, the Capital has one of the few surgeons in the country qualified to carry out the operation.
"There are about ten to 15 patients in the UK a year who have treatment, and we operate on one a year," says Dr Pritchard.
As to why he was the only person who responded to the Cimpeanus' plea, he says: "Other units were very busy and there's a certain reluctance with the health service as it's always short of cash without taking extra patients.
"We got good medical notes from the hospital and made sure we had the resources from the hospital to deal with another patient before we agreed.
"We didn't see her at the time of diagnosis. From her mum and dad's description we knew she wasn't eating, she had a big tummy, she was uncomfortable."
He continues: "This is how hepatoblastoma starts. The tumour enlarges and occupies more and more space in the tummy until the baby has no space to eat."
Since coming to Edinburgh on June 25, Sabina has undergone three chemotherapy sessions, each two weeks apart, and Cristina cannot believe the change in her daughter. Her cheeks are rosy, she gurgles at visitors and she smiles at her consultant. "She's been so good it's amazing," grins Cristina. "She's eating so well, she's so full of joy. Back home she was so sick."
Dr Pritchard and his team reduced and simplified Sabina's chemotherapy intake from what she had taken in Romania after trials revealed the optimum level.
"Romania is still recovering from the Ceausescu era and facilities are still very poor compared with other Eastern European countries," explains Dr Pritchard.
And because of this, Sabina's chances of survival rate in Romania would have been around 30 per cent, compared with a predicted 75 per cent here. After her fourth chemotherapy treatment, Sabina's tumour will be removed in a delicate two to six-hour operation scheduled for September 9.
"This is difficult surgery," stresses Dr Pritchard. "It's going to be made easier because the tumour is smaller and less vascular because of the chemo, which has reduced it to around 4cm now."
There is a 99 per cent success rate with this operation, and afterwards Sabina will have a further two courses of chemotherapy to ensure the cancer is gone.
There will be several check-ups at Sick Kids before the Cimpeanu family can return home six months after they arrived.
Further regular checks will be done in Romania, with another trip back to Edinburgh six months later for a comprehensive check-up and scan.
As Cristina cradles Sabina in her arms while Florentin continues to entertain her with the rattle, and Dr Pritchard holds the tot's tiny hand, it's clear everyone is desperate for a positive outcome.
"I'm crossing everything as you can see," adds Dr Pritchard, with fingers crossed. "We think it will be OK - and hope it will."
