Despite It All

Chapter 32

"Logan! Please! You need to calm down!" My stern, demanding nurse-voice flows from my constricting throat with ease, propelled by years of practice. My hands settle firmly on his biceps, imploring him to look at me, to see the calmness in my eyes prepared to battle the storm in his.

Logan's chest heaves steadily with every breath, slowly decreasing in momentum as he tries to calm the hysteria in his heart. A moment passes before his closed eyelids open, revealing anxious, glossy red eyes.

"Logan, look at me," I beg, "it's the second to last day of this. I know she hates it and it's extremely hard to watch her go through it, but she has to have this done. This medication is the only way her CD34 count will be high enough for them to harvest her tomorrow. You understand, right?"

Mia's stem cell transplant will be autologous, meaning she first needs to have her own stem cells extracted from her blood through a machine. The cells are treated and stored until it is time to use them, hence the 'harvesting' of her cells. Because her cancer is a solid tumor, the transplant team will be able to utilize her own, healthy stem cells to revitalize her after her intense round of chemotherapy—called conditioning. Her CD34 count needs to be high enough for them to harvest enough stem cells to be effective, and the only way to achieve this is for her to receive daily shots of a medication called granulocyte-macrophage colony-stimulating factor and sargramostim—or, GM-CSF for short. Unfortunately, this medication needs to be given as a shot through her fatty tissues.

Logan nods in understanding, the sadness in his eyes contagious. I swallow back my upset, determined not to allow my love for Mia impact my ability to do what's best for her—even if it's heartbreaking.

"It's just a shot," I continue, "it'll be over quickly. But if you're freaking out, she's going to freak out. She needs to see you calm. I'm more than happy to be the bad guy here and give the shot because that's what she needs from me. But she needs you to be strong and stoic for her."

A long, calming inhale. Logan finally nods, determination set in his features. I rest my forehead against his, willing the skin-to-skin contact to bring him some peace. Eyes on mine, he finally gives me a small, unsure smile.

He's ready.

I mouth the words 'I love you' and give him a pointed look, trying to convey to him that this is going to be quick—painful, but quick.

Meanwhile, Mia screams and thrashes, her face red and strained as she bellows her unhappiness. Her screams persist even though we haven't touched her, just the sight of the medication on the table enough to bring her to hysterics. She squirms in Ashley's arms, willing herself free. The pained look on Ashley's face implores me to hurry, to piece Logan back together so he can help hold her and we can get this over with.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on Ashley, the deep lines on her forehead barely hidden by the haphazard, disheveled locks of hair sweeping across her face. Prior to this, we just spent almost half an hour implementing new ways to get Mia to take her daily medications, fruitlessly holding her cheeks together as the sticky, pungent solution fought its way into her resistant mouth.

This is her sixth consecutive day of shots and of course, she hates it. There's no explaining to her what is happening, or why this is necessary. All she knows is that once a day for almost a week, Logan and Ashley have been holding her down while I shove a long, menacing needle into her soft, delicate skin.

Logan regroups and settles beside Ashley on her couch, arms outstretched towards Mia. Mia climbs into them eagerly, seeking solace in his embrace. As the three of them settle into position, I wash my hands and apply my gloves before drawing up the medication into a syringe with haste. Like riding a bicycle, my movements are swift but precise and practiced.