“It appears that the cancer cells may have already invaded the lymphatic system. We are referring you to the Cross Cancer Institute for a treatment plan. I’m very sorry.” The pathologist hung up the phone. My world stopped turning.
It was the first week of my second year of Law School. “The year that counts.”
Two weeks later, I met with an oncologist who explained that the standard procedure for cervical cancer like mine is a complete radical hysterectomy. In my case, she was willing to offer a lymph node dissection first – in order to ascertain whether lymph involvement was likely in play… or not. But the risk was obvious. If the cancer had already spread, I could have a long battle yet ahead – sooner or later.
I had 30 days to decide if I wanted to have a child of my own.
My decision was instantaneous and unwavering. To be true to myself, I simply must leave the option of child bearing open.
The consequential decisions before me, though, were much more complicated and some endured for many years:
Should I bother to continue on this law school path?
How can I even manage this semester with a full course load and a recommended 6 week recovery period?
Is there any reasonable chance that I can “do it all”? Can I really?
How long can I bear to wait for a child?
Will the cancer come back?
Is my boyfriend on board? If not, is this a deal breaker?
How will I conceal my health risk from a future employer?
How small can I keep my circle of close friends so that my decision to have children will not leak into the legal community and limit my opportunities?
Do I really want to become part of an industry where I have to worry about these things in this way?
Wouldn’t the profession be better if women didn’t have to subdue or silence themselves?
How might I use my experience to make the path of law moms better… somehow?
Surgery was booked for the beginning of the 3-week break between semesters so that no one would know or notice my absence or recovery time.
Shortly before my surgery date, a very dear friend – a cancer survivor herself – offered me some soulful insight: “Never look back. You have made your choices for all your reasons. Only look forward. Never look back.”
I have relied on that advice to be true to myself at many turning points. For that, I can now view this tragic episode as an invaluable life lesson.
Photo: 6 months post-surgery in my articling interview suit. Burdened yet hopeful; Looking forward.
