The Rake by L.J. Shen EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: L.J. Shen
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Romance Fiction
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“Uterine malformation,” I repeated numbly, staring back at Doctor Bjorn.
I felt ridiculous. In my tight red leather pencil skirt and cropped white
shirt, one leg flung over the other, my high-heeled Prada sandals dangling
from my toes. Everything about me screamed woman. Everything other than
the fact that, apparently, I couldn’t have children.
“That’s what the ultrasound indicated.” My OB-GYN gave me a
sympathetic look, somewhere between a flinch and a grimace. “We ordered
the MRI to confirm the diagnosis.”
It was peculiar that the thing I thought about in that moment wasn’t the
implication of my condition, but rather how profoundly and oddly hairy
Doctor Bjorn was.
Like a Teacup Pomeranian, though not half as cute, he appeared to be in
his early sixties, salt and pepper hair covering most of him. From his bushy
eyebrows and wild mane to the fluffy tufts on his fingers. His chest hair
curled out of his green scrubs, like he was hiding a chia pet.
“Explain to me what it means again. Uterine malformation.” I cupped my
knee, sending him a lip-glossed smile.
He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.
“Well, your diagnosis is uterine septum, the most common form of
uterine malformation. This is actually good news. We’re familiar with it and
can treat it in various ways. Your uterus is partially divided by a muscle wall,
which puts you at a risk of infertility, repeated miscarriages, and premature
birth. You can see it right here.”
He pointed at the ultrasound photo between us. I wasn’t in the mood to
make direct eye contact with my failure of a uterus, but I looked anyway.
“Infertility?” I wasn’t in the habit of parroting people’s words, but …
what the shit? Infertility! I was barely thirty. I had at least five more years to
make gorgeous, memorable mistakes with random men before I needed to
think about having babies.
“Correct.” Doctor Bjorn nodded, still mesmerized by my lack of emotion.
Didn’t he know I had none? “Paired with your PCOS, it could be an issue. I
am happy to discuss the next steps with you—”
“Wait.” I raised a hand, waving my red-tipped French manicure back and
forth. “Go back to that abbreviation. PC-what?”
“PCOS. Polycystic ovary syndrome. It says in your file that you were
diagnosed at fifteen.”
Right. Things were a bit hazy when I got to the hospital that time.
“I’m guessing it’s not good either,” I deadpanned.
He swiped a thumb on his phone—to me it was a low point in my life, but
to him it was just another Wednesday. “It could cause more infertility
Great. My womb gave Monica from Friends a run for her money. I
wanted to pick a fight. I turned my wrath toward Doctor Bjorn.
“What does it even mean?” I huffed. “Isn’t uterine malformation an issue
that develops over the course of a pregnancy?”
With another apologetic smile, Doctor Bjorn turned to the screen in front
of him and frowned, his bushy eyebrows high-fiving one another. He clicked
his mouse to scroll through my medical history. Stupid mouse with stupidsounding clicks.
“It does say here that you had a spontaneous abortion at the age of
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