Yesterday, I took a sick day. Over the last three years, this was my 2nd sick day. Now this is not to say that I haven't been sick. I have. It's just that many of my sicknesses have been well timed.

I've been fighting off a recurrent infection for, oh, the last three months. Not fun. I've been to see the doctor three times. I've gotten three different antibiotics and each time nothing has worked. The infection has come back.

This week I lost my cool when I realized that the infection was starting again and that this time around I was also having kidney pain. Just for the record, that's un-awesome. I spent a large part of Wednesday wanting to cry and after talking to my friend A. on Wednesday night she convinced me that I had to get a second opinion. (Thanks, A.)

So Thursday morning after my classes I called Takuda hospital for an appointment with an Urologist but they couldn't get me in until Monday morning. Enter tears. This lead me back to the Deputy Director at school--a woman who had helped me earlier this year with the same problem. She was incredible and rallied the troops so to speak. She had our school doctor making class, there were calls into Takuda and after all of this a plan was hatched.

The hope was that I could go back to Greenberg (the clinic next to the school) and that with the previous day's phone calls and the presence of D. the school nurse a diagnosis and a solution to my problem could be reached. Only it couldn't. I openly cried at the reception desk of the clinic in front of a lot of Bulgarian onlookers when my first doctor told me there was nothing wrong with me passed me off to the gynecologist. The result of these tears was that my first doctor decided to take another urine sample and to draw blood.

Then I got to see the gynecologist. He determined that there was nothing gynecologicly wrong with me. He of course didn't speak English so after my exam he tells D. all of this. He also tells D. that I have very nice looking eggs and that getting pregnant would solve my problems. Then