I recently moved to a new job in a new city. I had found a new mechanic, dentist, dry cleaner and finally got around to making an appointment with a doctor. I had searched my insurance provider directory to find someone in my area. The office was conveniently located about halfway between my office and my house. I finally got the nerve to call and make an appointment for a physical. Just calling made me nervous. The appointment was setup for 9AM on a Tuesday. The receptionist told me to not eat after 9PM the evening before and to arrive at 8:30 to complete all the paperwork.

I arrived at the small office right at 8:30, already a little nervous. I was the only one checking in. The receptionist took a copy of my insurance card and handed me a stack of forms to fill out. I sat down with the clipboard and began to wade through filling out the forms. The history forms were extremely detailed: family history, medication and supplements information, vaccination information, medical and surgical history as well as information on sexual health like gender of partners, sexually transmitted infections and when I was last tested for HIV and other diseases. They were right about arriving early. I turned in the paperwork and attempted to read the various magazines in the waiting area, easily distracted by my thoughts.

The medical assistant brought me to the back office and completed all the preliminaries of taking my height and weight, having me provide a urine sample and drawing my blood. After all that was completed, I was led by the nurse into the small exam room. The windowless room was lit with bright fluorescent lights and smelled of rubbing alcohol and hand soap. There was a sink and counter on the wall opposite the door. An examination table sat in the middle of the room, angled towards the inside of the room. Sitting on the table was a blue, rectangular absorbent pad and a small sheet of folded white paper.

“Go ahead and get undressed: you can cover up with the drape. He’ll be in shortly,” said the nurse.

The nurse left me in the room. A wave of anxious feelings washed over me. “Undress,” I thought, my heart racing, as I took off my shoes and socks, placing them under the chair. Then shirt … then undershirt … as I hung them on the hook on the back of the door. I took a deep breath and slipped off my pants, setting them on the chair. I could feel the dark blue carpet under my bare feet as I walked over to the table.

Down to my tighty whities, I climbed up onto the creaking table and unfolded the white drape. It was about the size of a dental bib and just covered my lap. I sat there waiting with one too many thoughts running through my head: how detailed would the doctor be? Would he find anything wrong? Would he be nervous, impatient, or cold? A drop of sweat fell from my armpit and landed on the blue pad.

Across the room, I noticed a metal tray on the counter covered with a white paper like the one on my lap. I resisted the urge to look underneath.