The Story of Henrietta Lacks: How One Woman’s Cells Forever Changed Medical Sciences & Patient Care

April 20–26 is National Fertility Awareness Week– a nationwide movement dedicated to breaking the silence, raising awareness, and advocating for better fertility care across Canada. In honour of this week, we sat down with Nicole Keay, a long-time patient partner with the Gynecologic Cancer Initiative (GCI) and host of the GOSH Podcast. 

Fertility is typically discussed in the context of unexplained infertility or IVF journeys unrelated to cancer. But today, we’re sharing an important and underrepresented story: how gynecologic cancer can profoundly impact fertility and shape a survivor’s path to parenthood in unexpected, painful, and powerful ways. 

We applaud Nicole’s openness and courage in sharing her story with us. Stories like hers help shed light on the quiet grief and often overlooked challenges that accompany survivorship.

“Having just one opportunity that you don't know the outcome of, and it’s permanent–you’re stuck with the outcome. And then you kind of have to figure it out.”

That’s how Nicole describes the whirlwind of decisions and irreversible consequences she faced after her cervical cancer diagnosis. Her life changed in an instant– not only because of the cancer itself, but because of what it would take away from her, and what she may never give back.

After seeking care for worsening pelvic pain, Nicole was referred to gynecology at Vancouver General Hospital, where she underwent a LEEP procedure followed by a cone biopsy. On March 15, 2016, she received a phone call with what would become a life-changing diagnosis: stage 1B1 cervical cancer.

Nicole explained that when she was diagnosed her first concern was if she would still be able to have kids. “I never wavered on wanting to be a mother,” Nicole shared. At just 33 years old, motherhood felt like the next chapter of her life. 

Due to the early stage of her cancer, the recommended treatment was a radical trachelectomy – a surgery to remove a portion of the cervix – without requiring chemotherapy and radiation. This meant that pregnancy would still be possible, though she would likely be unable to carry to term and would need a C-section. Nicole explains how this news brought her immense relief: her surgery was scheduled for the following month, and her path to motherhood still felt within reach.

The surgery was a success. But about ten days later, Nicole received a phone call with devastating news. The margins weren’t clear, and there was evidence of extensive lymphovascular invasion (it hadn’t spread to her lymph nodes yet but it was headed that way). Her oncology team recommended that she move forward with both radiation and chemotherapy. That call, she says, was even worse than the initial diagnosis.

Nicole’s original treatment plan preserved her fertility. But when plans shifted to include radiation and chemotherapy–treatments that often cause infertility–she was suddenly faced with an urgent and emotionally complex decision.

She was given just three weeks to pursue fertility preservation before beginning chemotherapy and radiation. She describes that there was no time to properly understand fertility preservation, explore her options, or find the clinic that was right for her.

“A decision like fertility is not something people should have to rush,” she reflects. “You should have time.” But that time simply wasn’t available. Sadly, this experience is not unique to Nicole.

She underwent two rounds of fertility preservation before starting radiation and chemotherapy. The first attempt was unsuccessful–her body wasn’t ready. A second attempt preserved 3 to 6 eggs. “Everything just felt rushed and disconnected,” she said.

Nicole describes this period as one shaped by limited options, rushed decisions, and overwhelming uncertainty. She wasn’t given the space to ask questions or explore alternatives, and often wonders if different choices–or more support–might have led to a different outcome.

What should have been a carefully considered decision was instead shaped by urgency and system failures.

Nicole was officially declared in remission in September 2016. But as the treatments ended, a new kind of challenge began. She struggled to settle back into life. She explained, “We have these life-saving treatments. But life is different. You are different.”

Nicole emphasized the need for more sustainable supports during survivorship. She explained, “When you're getting treatment, your days are full. You're surrounded by a team. And then all of that ends, and you're just left...unattended.” The abrupt absence of care left her feeling abandoned, navigating a life that looked entirely different.

“Survivorship is not the end of the cancer journey–it’s the beginning of a new one. Too often, patients are left to navigate complex emotional, physical, and reproductive challenges on their own once treatment ends. We need to reimagine cancer care to include what comes after, and that means building systems that provide long-term, personalized support for survivors.”

– Dr. Lesa Dawson, Gynecologic Oncologist and Principal Investigator at the GCI

Nicole and her partner explored adoption, but it quickly felt out of reach–discouragingly slow and filled with complex barriers. Without access to resources and wealth, Nicole says, the path to parenthood would have ended there. Nicole credits her family with helping her and her partner to navigate the difficult and costly journey toward alternative options.

They ultimately pursued donor eggs and worked with a surrogate, but the financial strain was immense. Despite having $15,000 in fertility benefits, insurance denied many of their claims because the treatments weren’t in Nicole’s name.

While Nicole was able to access small grants from support organizations, she had to seek out these resources on her own. We spoke about the new provincial coverage for one round of IVF–a program introduced after Nicole’s journey–and discussed how key expenses, such as embryo storage, are still not covered. While the initiative marks progress, significant gaps remain. “There are so many barriers to something that people should be helping you with,” Nicole reflected.

Nicole beat cancer, but she lost her fertility. Years later, when she and her partner tried to create embryos from her preserved eggs, none were viable. The loss was devastating. She often thinks back to the rushed decisions made during treatment.

“Could we have done something to increase the chances? Was I overtreated?” she wonders.

She describes that the experience triggered a period of deep depression. “It’s the loss of something I never got to have,” she said, reflecting on the failed embryo attempts. “The sadness and grief– I can’t even put it into words.” She described all of the milestones she dreamed of– sharing the news of a positive test, carrying a pregnancy.

“Everything I dreamed of looked different.” And when she opened up to others, she was often met with, “Well, you should just be grateful you’re alive.”

Because surviving cancer doesn’t erase the grief that follows. Nicole’s grief–the grief of not becoming a mother in the way she had always imagined–was real, raw, and invisible to most. “There was so much trauma in having my entire life plan shift,” she said. “The grief of not living the life I thought I would.” Nine years later, Nicole still gets emotional when speaking about it. That grief, she says, never fully goes away.

Nicole and her partner welcomed baby Jack in May 2023. “Jack makes every day full. I can’t express how grateful I am.” she shared. Becoming a mother had always been her dream; and now, Jack is here, filling that space with joy, love, and purpose.

“To think that people don’t get to experience this because it’s so out of reach… I feel very sad about that.” She reflects on how deeply thankful she feels for the support she received from her family, recognizing that not everyone has the same resources or opportunities. Her experience highlights a significant health equity gap in fertility care, spanning financial, psychological, and bureaucratic barriers.

Jack entering Nicole’s story is one of overwhelming gratitude. Alongside that joy lives a very real sense of loss. A quiet, lingering grief of the path to motherhood that she always envisioned, but didn’t get to have.

It’s a truth that she carries: that joy and sorrow can coexist. Nicole is profoundly grateful–and at the same time, she mourns the version of motherhood she imagined for so long. Her story reminds us that healing isn’t linear, and that it's possible to hold both love and loss at the same time.

Nicole’s story is a powerful reminder that survivorship isn’t just about beating cancer. Her experience shines a light on an often overlooked aspect of cancer care: what happens after the treatment. 

We need systems that support fertility preservation and account for diverse family-building journeys. We need more education so that patients can make informed decisions, more empathy so that grief isn’t minimized, and more resources so that fertility care isn’t reserved for the wealthy.

At the Gynecologic Cancer Initiative (GCI), we recognize these gaps, which is why survivorship is a key priority in our work. To address this, GCI is advancing research that centers survivor experiences, including fertility loss, decision-making around fertility preservation, and long-term quality of life. One of our most promising innovations is the Prevention and Survivorship Clinic, developed by the Division of Gynecologic Oncology at UBC and GCI, in partnership with the BC Cancer Agency’s Hereditary Cancer Program. Led by Dr. Lesa Dawson, the clinic offers specialized, patient-centered care for individuals with hereditary cancer risk and those requiring complex post-surgical menopause management. This often also includes counsel for patients navigating fertility planning in the context of preventative surgery. For many patients fertility choice may also include consideration of preimplantation diagnosis, which requires in vitro fertilization. These are all very complex decisions. The clinic represents a growing model of what holistic survivorship care can look like. Looking ahead, there is hope to expand the clinic to include a dedicated fertility-survivorship arm, with access to more fertility support and expertise–a priority item that was identified in a recent patient survey.

GCI is also working to develop new fertility-focused survivorship initiatives, patient-informed resources, and evidence-based tools to help bridge the gap between treatment and life after cancer. Our goal is to ensure that stories like Nicole’s lead to action – informing policy, transforming care, and ultimately, changing what survivorship looks like.

This fertility awareness week, let’s listen to stories like Nicole’s. Let’s acknowledge the quiet grief and complex hope that so many survivors carry. And let’s work toward a future where survivorship comes with support, not silence.