I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. "Thanks for being blunt. I needed the reassurance. My judgment…." I trailed off, then changed the subject. "I'd really already decided to go for it. Anyway, I'll be picking up the antibiotics at the Health Center, as usual."
"I'll call it in. Goodbye, Cora," she said. "And good luck."
"Bye," I said, and I hung up.
And that was that.
I grabbed the picture that sat on my bedside table and turned it so I could see it from the bed. In the photo, I was grinning and holding up my high school diploma with my Gramma's arm wrapped around my shoulders in a fierce hug. She looked so happy. Triumphant, even. She'd done it, giving me a normal childhood all on her own after my parents' death in the car accident. She'd put off her retirement for more than ten years, I found out later, to support me. Worked herself to death, a small voice whispered. I could never pay her back, but I'd wanted to succeed to show her that all her sacrifice had meant something. If Mr. Thorne's experimental procedure didn't work, I'd be dead in less than a semester.
Logically, I knew my chances were slim, but I was convinced that this time, I would be the one-in-one-hundred lucky one. I don't know where that conviction came from, but no amount of rational thought could shake it.
I levered myself out of bed and dragged on some clothes. My head felt like it was stuffed with a wad of cotton, my sinuses were slowly burning through my skull, and my ear throbbed dully. I wavered for a moment, wondering if I could even make it to class. I looked at my Gramma, eternally beaming from the photo, and I sighed. Shoving my feet into my UGG knockoffs, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal.
"Hey, Cora," Lisette said from the living room. "I thought you'd left for class."
"No," I said, splashing milk over my raisin bran. I was glad to see her even though I'd pay for our conversation later that day, when my endurance gave out. A year ago, I could never have imagined how many thousands of small costs of strength there were in a day, how each and every action I took exacted its own toll.
I flopped in a chair and dug in. I hadn't gained any weight back since stopping the alemtuzumab, but I hadn't lost any more, either, for a change. "I had to call Dr. Robeson and get another script for cipro. I can't shake this ear infection."