My reaction must be obvious, because the doctor hastens to reassure me. “I know it’s an adjustment, Libby. But this is really a great option. You’ll do them down at an infusion center every four weeks, it takes a couple of hours each time, you can take a nap or read…. You’ll see. It’s not that scary when you get used to it.”

I bite my lip.

“You’re a strong girl, Libby.” Dr. Parker stands up, shuffling her papers. Our appointment is over. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

*****

Shaindy does infusions, too. She’s the first person I call once I escape to my room.

“What’s up, Libs?” she trills. “Sunny with a chance of headaches?”

I chuckle because she expects me to. “Shaindy, the doctor wants me to start doing infusions.”

And then I start to cry, just a little bit, just so my voice wobbles and tears wet the phone pressed against my cheek. “I don’t want to. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be the girl doing infusions…. I’m scared, okay?”

Shaindy’s quiet. I’m glad she’s taking this seriously, not whooping and offering to Skype me for an infusion party. I mean, I’m starting to appreciate the humor, and she’s really awesome, but right now, I just want to cry to someone who really gets it.

“It is scary,” I hear her say, finally. “I know. I remember what it felt like at the beginning. But Libby, you’re wrong about one thing. You can do this. You can. You need to believe that.”

I sort of know that I can, because I will, because I have to. But I don’t want to admit it.

“Libby, are you there?”

“Yeah.” My fingers crush a tissue to pieces. “I’m here.”

“Okay, so listen. Repeat after me: ‘I can do this!’ ”

I can’t help it. I stifle a sob, give a tiny laugh, and hiccup. “Are we playing a game?”

“No, I’m serious. Come on, say it! ‘I can do this!’ ”

“I can do this,” I say, rolling my eyes at the mirror.

“No, really! Say it like you mean it,” she pushes. “ ‘I can do this!’ ”

I smirk, but then feel myself starting to smile for real. “Okayyy… Here goes: I can do this!”

“Libby, you really can. I mean it. Yes, you’ll do infusions, and yes, you’ll be okay. Really!”

The tears have dried by now. “Okay, okay. I know, I can and I will,” I say.

When we hang up, a new empowerment is trickling through me, an infusion of sorts.

I can do this.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 820)