“I’m just going to take your blood pressure,” she said. “You’ll be meeting with Dr. Be
cker.” She secured the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm. “If you want me to stay in the room while he does the exam, I can.”
“That’s okay,” I said. While it was nice of her to offer, the less people in the room when my feet were up in the stirrups, the better. The cuff squeezed my arm tighter and tighter.
Finally, right when it felt like it was about to snap my arm in half, the pressure released, and the nurse wrote something down on my chart.
“It’s 118 over 70,” she said. “Looks good. I just need to take your temperature, then you can change into that gown and the doctor will be right in to see you. And if you change your mind about there being a third person in here, don’t be afraid to speak up.”
I opened my mouth, and she placed the thermometer under my tongue. Once she was done, she smiled and then stepped out of the room so I could get changed.
I changed into the paper dressing gown, feeling somewhat ridiculous, as anyone would wearing something as silly as this. I left my socks on, but folded the rest of my clothes into a neat pile and placed them on the chair. I shimmied back up onto the exam table, the paper crinkling underneath me. I sat there and looked around at the off-white walls, the glossy poster with graphics showing the female menstrual cycle, and then another showing a fetus progressing through the months of pregnancy. A third poster proclaimed in big rainbow font how important it was to eat fruits and vegetables in all colors. The strawberries looked good, and I made a mental note to pick some up at the farmers’ market I was hoping to go to after my appointment.
There was a gentle tap at the door.
I cleared my throat. “Come in,” I said.
The door opened, and my new next door neighbor walked in, wearing a button-down shirt and a pair of smooth khaki pants. He had a stethoscope hung sideways around his neck. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised to see me or not—his expression didn’t really change—but I was unable to keep the shock off of my own face.
Never mind the fact that I was sitting here in a fucking paper gown.
“Oh!” I said. “I... um... I didn’t realize that you were the doctor here. I mean, I know you said that you were a doctor, but I didn’t know that it would be here because if I did I probably would have—”
I stopped talking because I knew how foolish I sounded. It occurred to me suddenly what would be happening in a few minutes, what he was going to do, and I felt my face flush.
“Allison O’Keefe,” he said. He smiled. “But you’d rather go by Allie, right?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“I didn’t realize it would be you, either, and I can certainly understand if you’d rather see someone else. However, I can also assure you that I will be completely professional about this and am happy to do your exam today if you decide that’s what you’d like to do.”
I didn’t know what to do. I truly had no idea—if I said I wanted to see someone else, that meant I cared what he thought, which was ridiculous because I didn’t even know him. I didn’t want him to think that I was that sort of girl who would run away from an appointment like this just because the person doing it happened to be good-looking. And also, it was still really burning when I went to the bathroom, and I wanted to get a prescription if that was the only way to remedy the situation.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Are you sure? Do you want Kathy to come back in?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. What I wanted now was to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Okay, then. Why don’t we do the exam part first, and then if there’s anything you want to talk to me about after, you can. When you’re ready, you can lie back and then scoot your bum close to the edge of the table and put your feet up in the stirrups.”
He went over to the counter and pulled on a pair of gloves. He also turned the faucet on.
I felt almost disembodied, like my mind was not quite tethered to my physical body, which was about to undergo an exam at the hands of Dr. Cole Becker, neighbor of yours truly. This was the only way that I could do this, though. I closed my eyes.
I heard the water turn off, and I was vaguely aware of him settling down on a rolling stool, positioned between my legs. My face burned. Was this actually happening?
“I ran the speculum under warm water, so it shouldn’t be too cold,” he said. “I’m going to put my hand here—” I felt his warm palm on my left inner thigh, “and then you’re going to feel the speculum go in—” The metal was lukewarm against my skin, and the lubricant he must’ve put on speculum was cool and slippery. “Okay, there we go. It’s in.”
I wished he would stop narrating; I didn’t need to know every detail. In fact, if he stopped talking about it, I could allow myself to pretend that I was somewhere else completely.
“I’m going to just take a sample now,” he said, “and then we’ll be all done with this part of it. How are you doing?”
“Just fine!” I said, my voice a little too bright.
I hummed a song in my head and felt a strange poking sensation inside of me. “All set,” he said. “And now I’m going to take the speculum out. There we go. You can take your feet out of the stirrups and slide back, but stay lying down.”
“Oh,” I said, as I pulled my legs out. “We’re not done yet?”