Many barristers will warn you that your year of pupillage is the hardest you will ever endure. Pupillage is the year you are put under immense pressure be that either by your Chambers or by yourself. In essence you have signed up for a 12-month interview in one of the most competitive professions. In preparation for your year of training you will be bracing yourself for one of the most mentally, physically and (if a criminal pupil) financially gruelling year. At 35 other than juggling the demands of pupillage, I was also attempting to “adult” side by side. And if that wasn’t hard enough, gosh darn it, I went off and got a little spot of cancer.

A couple of weeks before I was scheduled to start pupillage, tests from a routine check-up came back positive for high risk HPV. First my mind went blank, I’d never had so much as a cold sore in my entire life. Once the cloud cleared I thought, why has this been detected now?

One GP suggested I may have lived with the virus for years as the NHS doesn’t test for the strain I caught… and yes it’s a high-risk strain so why the NHS doesn’t bother testing for it is a blog of its own. Another GP suggested it could be stress which often causes the virus to come alive and that my body should eliminate it if I de-stress. Great, I thought! I’m about to get a lesson in Bruce Banner-ing my pupillage.

I was reassured that there were some cellular anomalies but nothing to worry about. Just repeat the test in 6 months. For once in my life I thought, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I am not going to catastrophise this. Off I started pupillage in a distinctly uncharacteristic form of optimism.

Then my landlord served us with an eviction notice. Now I had to deal with losing my home of 3 years. The next few months my home life deteriorated as I tried to keep my pupillage on track whilst simultaneously trying to solve our housing problems. Every free evening and weekend was spent at soul crushing open houses watching wealthy couples out-bid us for, let’s face it, DUMPS! Eventually we found an affordable home which required a full gutting.

So now I had a home …which I couldn’t live in, a mortgage to pay, rent, the impending doom of moving in with my in-laws, pupillage and high risk HPV. Bruce Banner was starting to go a touch green.

Before I knew it 6 months passed by and my second six was inaugurated with the scheduled second smear test. Then one lunch time, as if a day in Thames Magistrate’s Court wasn’t bad enough, an email came – “High grade cell changes, Urgent referral to Colposcopy”. My mind went blank again. I tried to concentrate on my sentencing hearings as my brain tried to worry me. For weeks I yo-yo’d between feeding my anxieties and prepping for court. Almost incapable of doing either one of those tasks diligently.

The week of the procedure I was shadowing a murder trial at the Bailey and for the life of me I cannot remember what on earth that case was about. I do not remember the case at all but I remember every step I took from the Bailey all the way to the Hospital. The staircase felt longer, the sun was harsher, the tube was choking. My body felt like it was crumbling under every bit of anxiety I denied it for months – hitting me in waves as I tried to make my way to hospital. Then every fear, every dreadful eventuality came to fruition – The procedure was agonising. I wept, I howled, I bled.

The nurse confirmed she needed a biopsy. I was given no sedative, no pain relief and my clinician took it upon herself to lecture me on the capriciousness of my child bearing decisions. My brain went into a dissociative mode again. I came home cried alone in the bathroom and then prepped for court.

Next day I went off to the Bailey again. I had no idea the lasting trauma that procedure left on me. I walked into court 11 in a haze repeatedly telling myself I was fine. I was at the Bailey! I was at a homicide trial! I was living the dream!

But my body had other plans.

As I tried to concentrate on the case, I felt my body breaking. The pain came in waves as I felt the blood leave my body. There stuck in the silent solemnity of the Bailey I sat thinking I can’t believe I’m going to leave a big stain of blood at the Bailey. I kept willing my body to stop from passing out and yet I daren’t get up, daren’t disrupt proceedings, daren’t seek help.

Few days later the call came. It was confirmed, I needed surgery.

Life didn’t stop however. I packed all my boxes left my home and left London. For the next few months I commuted for over an hour into work with a body that I could feel was not itself anymore. Then I went back home and prepped a remand list late into the night as I sat on my in-laws uncomfortable guest mattress.

The weeks before surgery I almost felt a wave of acceptance of what I thought was my impending death. I contemplated my life, my childhood, my achievements. A strange and eerie peace fell over me. Surgery came and went and spoiler alert I did not die. Recovery was hard, harder even as I tried to recover sooner than my body needed.

Once back at work, I wasted no more time in the Remand court and sought my own opportunities finding work in the Crown Court. I want to say I stood up every day in the Crown Court as a fearless advocate reformed by my experiences but I wasn’t. I cocked up loads of time, in fact majority of the times. I’d feel terrible and then my supervisor would say to me “Anneka you are a strong woman, you’ve beat worse”.  

I still don’t know if I beat what was luckily very early stages of cervical cancer. I was lucky it wasn’t worse but I am not clear out of the woods yet. However, I managed the worst health crisis I ever suffered during one of the most poignant years of my life. Somehow here I stand signed off, qualified and ready to start a new phase of my career.

I am not telling you any of this so you can look at me and say “Oh wow, look how she did it!” and I sincerely apologise if that is the vibe. There is a lot of talk about wellbeing at the Bar but rarely does it materialise for a lot of us. You shouldn’t have to work through an illness nor should you have to power through it but often it may feel like you have no choice or you may choose to power through it for your own reasons, like I did.

I guess what I am saying is that if you so choose or if life happens to you, you are capable of handling it. We are resilient people, if we weren’t we wouldn’t be in this profession. I took some time off for my surgery and there are days I regret taking that time off. I wonder if I worked hard enough during pupillage? Did I wuss out needing time off? I forget how I cried every day for ten days every time the pain meds wore out. How I could barely stand straight or get out of bed. The Bar can sometimes feel like a traditional place but it is possible to forge your own way through it be it either as a non-traditional candidate or if the universe really has it in for you, with a little spot of cancer.

I made no plans whatsoever for what happened during my year of pupillage but I handled it. I may still have to heal, may still have to learn but life will continue. I know of others, of friends, who struggle through this year and all I want to say is that you got this! Hang in there, look after yourself, look after your friends, take time off if you need, power through if you must…your strength will see you through.