Trials and Tribulations - [Bensler EO]

Part Eighteen - Consolation

Less than sixty days.

Words she would forever be grateful to hear.

In fact, less than forty days. In fact, only three weeks.

Miracles.

She had spent the better half of the entire morning staring at the little glass bottles, 'Menopur' written in soft green letters. Oddly enough, she wasn't as intimidated by the bottles as she expected herself to be. The needles on the other hand still sparked a little bit of fear into her.

She had gotten lucky, extremely lucky since her cycle was almost perfectly timed to begin the process as quickly as possible. The less time chemo was postponed, the better.

Two weeks of hormones, followed by a trigger injection, and if the perfect timing holds true, then the retrieval.

She forced herself not to think about what life would become after the process was done. She'd need to go back to being face to face with a full-fledged tragedy. No safety net in between, no barrier that kept that life at least an arm's length away. Anyone who was looking at her through the looking glass would believe that IVF was just a way for her to push this demon down a little longer.

But the bottles gave her hope.

She couldn't help but to laugh at the irony. Some people drowned their fears in bottles of liquor during their worst moments. Then there was her, who was investing that fear into faith, an entirely different bottle with an entirely different purpose. Faith the size of a mustard seed could grow into a mountain, and hope was just the same.

The specialist had taught her the spots of her body where she could inject the drugs. Stomach, thighs, upper arm, lower back. She would become bruised and sore from the constant jabs and stabs of the needles, but she was already used to the consistent bruise that grew in the junction of her right arm. Blood work was becoming a second nature, and surely this would too. She could handle the two injections twice a day for two weeks.

If she couldn't handle that...

"No," her conscience whispered. There was no 'if', not about IVF or chemo or any sort of upcoming battle. She wasn't allowed to have 'if's or 'but's. She would die on this hill if she was forced to. She'd taken her stance, it would stay that way.

The sound of plastic crinkling filled her ears. As she pulled the syringe out of its sterile packaging, she felt her muscles stiffening. The needle underneath of the safety cap was a hell of a lot more intimidating than the medication itself. Forced deep breaths filled her lungs, a mantra in her head repeating that she could do this, she was strong enough.

The cap rolled against the granite as she punctured the top of the bottle, holding it close to her eye as she measured the dose. She tried to focus on the contrast between the bottle and the needle. The calmness that came with one and the fear that came with the other. One wouldn't work without the other, she had to feel the pain in order to receive the gift.