Ryann Upton saton the examination table feeling cold, sad, and alone. Two months earlier, she’d mentioned to her ob/gyn that her periods were all over the place and nothing like the regular monthlies she’d experienced since the beginning of puberty. Her doctor hadn’t seemed concerned while Ryann was speaking, but she did decide to err on the side of caution and order a full work-up on her patient.
Many of Dr. Stanley’s patients selected her as their ob/gyn because they didn’t really trust the medical industry. It was a well-documented fact that women, and particularly women of color, did not receive equitable medical care compared to their white male counterparts. Dr. Stanley was one of the few black female doctors in her insurance network. She strived to beworthy of her patients’ choice and their trust, so she made sure not to brush things off, no matter how small or inconsequential they seemed.
As Ryann listened to the results of her blood work and tests, she was crushed. However, she had to admit that knowing was better than not knowing. She was glad that Dr. Stanley had taken her concerns seriously.
“So, what does this mean, Dr. Stanley? This POI? Primary… what is it?” Zyah asked.
Ryann knew she should ask questions for clarity, but she wasn’t focused enough to remember anything that the doctor would tell her. She was thankful that she had brought her sister Zyah with her.
Zyah squeezed Ryann’s hand as Dr. Stanley spoke.
“POI. Primary Ovarian Insufficiency. It’s typically a condition of the follicles.” She grabbed a colored diagram of a woman’s uterus and held it up. “Here”—Dr. Stanley used a small pointer to reference the right ovary—“is the ovary. These are the follicles. In POI, the follicles fail to release the egg, either for fertilization or even just to signal to the body that it’s time for menstruation to take place.”
Zyah asked the question that Ryann wanted to but couldn’t. “Why is this happening to her?”
Dr. Stanley’s eyes were soft. She hated this part, but at the same time, she wasn’t one of those doctors with a God complex. She didn’t know everything. Science didn’t have all of the answers.
“I don’t know, Zyah. There are many things about the human body that we just don’t understand. It’s not uncommon for the cause of POI to be unknown. This condition is also extremely rare. There just hasn’t been enough research done.” Her sigh was heavy.
Her heart hurt for Ryann. Her patient was young, vibrant, beautiful and full of life. She didn’t deserve to have her fertility threatened before she had a chance to even start the family planning stage of her life.
“Ryann, I’m not going to sugarcoat this or feed you false hope. This condition is irreversible. The follicles that you have now, the remaining working follicles, are going to continue to diminish as you age, the same as they do for all women. Usually, a woman is into her forties when the follicles begin to diminish, and it continues into menopause. You are still getting periods. I know they’re not monthly or regular, but you are still getting them. That’s a good sign. It’s a long shot, but a natural pregnancy is not out of the question for you, providing that everything was to line up just right. We can also talk about harvesting your eggs and freezing them. IVF is a viable option for the future if we get those eggs out now. I would like to start you on a hormone replacement therapy?—"
Ryann cut her off. “No. No. Uh, I need to catch up to you, Dr. Stanley. You’ve given me a lot of information to process and I…” Tears began to course down Ryann’s face.
“Do you have some pamphlets, a website, or something?” Zyah questioned. “Someplace we can go for more information? And we’ll hold off for a bit on the hormone replacement. If I know my sister, she’s gonna want to look at holistic treatments first.”
Dr. Stanley gave a small smile. She was used to patients in her community being wary of starting a drug regimen. Many of them didn’t trust doctors, so they weren’t into taking medicine if they could find an herb or a concoction that could work.
Dr. Stanley’s voice filled with the compassion and concern that she felt for her young patient when she spoke. “Ryann, I want you to have time to look into alternative treatments, but I don’t want you to take your time. Does that make sense? Don’tdrag this out. I would like to get on top of this before other issues arise.”
Ryann’s head bobbed up and down as tears continued to course down her cheeks. This was not the news she expected to receive.
Brixton Cole sat atop the very expensive honed marble countertop in the kitchen of the house he planned to put on the market. The temperature in the house was warm, but still the marble was cold on his ass cheeks. He could feel it through the jeans he was wearing. It was October in Chicago. He had missed the sweet spot to sell the house, which would’ve been summer, but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was what it was. He didn’t even have much of a choice as to where he sat. There was no actual seating in the house. Everything had been removed, with the exception of a few personal belongings.
With his face buried in his phone, he heard the tell-tale footfalls of high heeled boots walking carefully down thestairs. Next, he heard the same heels move across the luxury vinyl flooring that he hated so much. Finally, Adrianna Gomez appeared in the kitchen.
She hesitated momentarily, but finally, she spoke. “Brix.”
He gave her the courtesy of looking at her when she called his name, even though it hurt to look at her. Looking at her, thinking about her, smelling her, being in her presence… everything about her hurt him now.
“Brix.” Her voice cracked.
He didn’t have any choice but to harden his heart to her pain and remind himself that his pain management and well-being were paramount to him surviving this.
“I know you hate me.” Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. “I hate myself. I can’t even believe this is where we are. I love you. I love you so much.”
When he didn’t respond, Adrianna spoke again.
“I’m so sorry.”
Brixton watched her standing in front of him. The girl that he had loved for so long. When he met her back at Virginia Colony University, they ran in different circles. He had been an athlete since he was about seven years old, so that was what he knew. He knew gyms, locker rooms, chartered buses, gym shoes, and practices. Stuff like that.
Adrianna knew other things. Her family was wealthy. She had been exposed to the best schools, to leisure, to travel, to luxury, to the best that life had to offer.
Adrianna wasn’tthatgirl, though. She wasn’t the queen of the yard on their campus. She carried an expensive purse, but the strap wouldn’t stay up on her shoulder. She had designer glasses, but they were always slipping down. He thought it was cute that she would stereotypically push them back up with three fingers. She reminded him of every nerdy girl in every teenage movie he had ever watched. She was quiet, reserved, and mousy,but he knew that if some well-meaning group of girls gave her a makeover like they did in those teenage movies and dressed her in a sexy outfit… he knew she would be pressure.
Once he got to know her, though, he realized that she didn’t need a makeover. She was pressure just the way she was. Adrianna was the sweetest, smartest, most genuine person he’d met. And as she grew in confidence that he believed was based on the way he loved and valued her, she blossomed. He watched her metamorphosis from the shy, introverted girl, to the woman that turned the heads of other dudes on campus.
