She’s got a couple hours free? More like she feels sorry for me

As told to Rochel Samet

Dr. Parker and Shaindy were right. By the time I’m up to my third infusion, it doesn’t feel so scary anymore. It’s actually pretty chilled.

I’m preparing a bag with a drink, my iPod, and a book, when Ma pops her head in.

“Henny’s gonna drive you today, Libby, okay? It’s just a bit crazy here, I haven’t finished Sara’s school shopping, and she’s got a couple hours free...”

Henny. I’ve hardly seen her all month. She spent second half in the mountains, and she’s been rushing around like a whirlwind since she got back, with shopping and packing for seminary.

She’s got a couple hours free? More like she feels sorry for me. Or maybe she wants to give me some more helpful advice.

I shrug my consent. Maybe it’ll be good for her to see this.

Henny’s unnaturally quiet on the drive. It’s like she wants to say something but isn’t quite sure what. When we get to the infusion center, I sling my bag over one shoulder and head for the reception desk. Henny hangs back. I’ve never seen her feeling awkward.

“You can come along, you know,” I tell her, as the nurse comes to show me to my cubicle.

She looks nervous. “Yeah, sure, I’m coming.”

“How have you been feeling, honey?” The nurse – Cherry, her name tag says – asks me brightly. “Seeing any improvement? Don’t worry if you haven’t, it’s only been a few weeks.”

“I think so,” I say. She deftly inserts the needle and catheter. Henny’s carefully looking away. “I mean, this past week I’ve really felt more energetic. I think it’s working. I hope so...”