Ok, so I have a friend, right

and I love her! LOVE. HER. She is the friend that makes sure that I remember to be silly and fun and spontaneous. She's the one that gets me giggling to the point of nearly peeing my pants. She's the one that is just like the friend my mom has had since high school that now, at 60, still makes her almost pee HER pants.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for my friend and she knows it. She allows me to give it to her straight up when I think she's off her rocker. She's also the one that I will validate until I'm blue in the face if she's in the right. With her I can be completely honest and completely myself. I never have to fake it with her. I can be the real me with all my greatness and all my faults. And she loves me still.

But I'm nervous because she's asked me to lunch on Thursday to talk about her IVF treatment that she quickly mentioned on the phone to me today might not be going all that well. She found out a couple of months back that the company that is carrying her COBRA coverage is now based in Massachusetts which qualifies her for full IF coverage in accordance with Mass law. So, she gets the meds covered and the treatment at a $15 co-pay. Without financial restraints, she's free to do as many treatments as necessary.

But I think she's going to tell me she doesn't even want to do a second one.

This lunch is going to test me. Not our friendship, but ME, to my core.

I'm going to have to be a better friend. I'm going to have to be a stronger woman. A stronger infertile woman. I'm going to have to listen without the pain ringing in my ears and help her figure out what is best for her even though from my angle she's been handed the golden ticket and she needs to get in the glass elevator. I can't throw her series of fortunate events back at her and tell her to be thankful.

That is not what she will necessarily need or want to hear.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.