And a plastic jar, handed Soraya a request for some routine blood tests. We shook hands. "Welcome aboard," he said as he showed us out.
I PASSED WITH FLYING COLORS.
The next few months were a blur of tests on Soraya: basal body temperatures, blood tests for every conceivable hormone, urine tests, something called a "Cervical Mucus Test," ultrasounds, more blood tests, and more urine tests. Soraya underwent a procedure called a hysteroscopy - Dr. Rosen inserted a telescope into Soraya's uterus and took a look around. He found nothing. "The plumbing's clear," he announced, snapping off his latex gloves. I wished he'd stop calling it that - we weren't bathrooms. When the tests were over, he explained that he couldn't explain why we couldn't have kids. And, apparently, that wasn't so unusual. It was called "Unexplained Infertility."
Then came the treatment phase. We tried a drug called Clomiphene and hMG, a series of shots which Soraya gave to herself. When these failed, Dr. Rosen advised...
Related theme articles:
"spy bag fendi" he said
"fendi magic bag" Apricots
"fendi compilation bag" Amir jan