“Mom, why doesn’t that man have any hair?”
“Can I have a chair with wheel like that lady?”

Ah…the unfiltered curiosity of children. My twin brother and I were masters of asking deeply personal, highly inappropriate questions at the absolute worst times. Our poor mother was (and still is) my go-to person for pretty much everything. Like many parents, I am sure she sometimes dreaded fielding our loud and awkward inquiries in public places, but she always handled it with patience (and the occasional deep sigh).

Fast forward to our teenage years, my mother probably braced herself for awkward questions about puberty, sex or some horrifying combination of the two. But life threw a different kind of curveball: at age 11, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Suddenly, my questions weren’t just embarrassing—they were existential.

“Why is this happening to me?”
“Am I going to die?”

While she did not always have a definitive answer, she answered truthfully and the best she could. And now, more than 20 years post-treatment, I still go to her first when I have a health question.

Which led to the semen sample incident.

One particularly awkward situation came about after my oncologist suggested a fertility test to check if my cancer treatment had affected my ability to have children. Simple enough, right? So, I went to a lab and inquired about giving a semen sample. What follows is the conversation I had on the phone with my mother while walking home (yes, on a busy public street).

Me: Hey, so I went to the lab today about that fertility test. The lady was very clear that I could not provide the sample there.

Mom: (sighs) Jamie, I really don’t need to hear this. (pause) Wait, so they don’t even give you a private room?

Me: Apparently not! Also, I have to abstain for a few days beforehand, and the sample has to be delivered within a specific time frame.

Mom: But you don’t have a car and you won’t make it on time by bus! Oh no. (pause) Can’t they just do it another way? Like, stick a big needle in there?

Me: I really hope not.

Mom: I really don’t need to hear about this… (pause) Anyway, have I told you about my mammograms?

Me: Yes. Repeatedly.

Fertility: The Question No One Wants to Ask
One of the hardest parts of surviving childhood cancer is dealing with the long-term effects—many of which don’t show up until years later. Fertility is a big one. It wasn’t on my 11-year-old mind, but fast forward a couple of decades, and suddenly, it’s a very real concern.

For some childhood cancer survivors, fertility can feel like an unanswered question lurking in the background. The only way to find out is through awkward, slightly mortifying medical tests. It’s not always an easy subject to talk about, but it’s important. Whether you’re considering having kids, exploring options like sperm or egg freezing, or just trying to understand how treatment may have affected you, asking the question is the first step. And if those conversations feel too awkward to have with a doctor, well—there’s always your mom.

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