Nurse Terri left the room, and Jennifer stayed next to me, comforting me. “How about a little juice?” she asked. I nodded, and she reached into her purse and produced a juice box with red fruit punch. She knows just what a little craves. I raised up onto my elbow and took the juice. As my sweaty back hit the cold room air, I started to get goosebumps. My clear head returned, and I was able to sit up again. The table paper was torn and damp from my time there. Jennifer tore off the used paper and unrolled a fresh length from the spool. “There, good as new,” she said.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Jennifer and I both said. The door opened, and a man walked in. He didn't have a white coat on, but I could tell that he was a doctor because of his stethoscope. “Hi, I'm Dr. Little,” he said, offering his hand to me to shake. I shook his hand, and then Jennifer did, too. He had a necktie with Disney characters on it. “I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Terri told me that you had a little bit of lightheadedness while you got your vaccines. Can you tell me about it?” Dr. Little took a seat on his rolling stool and looked directly at me.

“I hate getting shots. I always have,” I said. “I was so scared when my mom took me to the doctor for shots. We'd be waiting there forever for the nurse to come in, and we'd hear screams from the other exam rooms. My mom would make frightening faces as we listened. Then the nurse finally arrived, and my mom would start crying as soon as she saw the needle!”

“That's unfortunate,” said Dr. Little. “I'll bet you wish that she had been there to take care of your emotions. How were you feeling then?”

“I was so scared that the nurse was going to make me pull down my pants and give me a shot in my butt! My mom told me stories about the shots she got when she was a child.”

“Sounds like you were pretty worried about your mother,” Dr. Little reflected. I nodded. “It's a shame when children have to take care of their parents' emotional needs.” He turned to Jennifer. “Looks like you have found someone to take care of you.” I nodded and smiled. “It's never too late,” Dr. Little offered.

“Let's do a medical history on your 40 year old body, and then we'll do an exam to make sure you're healthy. And maybe we can attend to some of that emotional baggage from your childhood medical visits, too.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said.

He looked at his clipboard. “Your BMI is in the normal range, and your blood pressure is good, too. Do you exercise regularly?” I told him that I go running and swimming with Jennifer. “Keep it up. That's good for your health.”

“Any family history of heart attack, stroke, or cancer?” I told him about my parents and grandparents. We were pretty lucky when it came to cancer, but several of the men died of heart attacks.

He looked again at his clipboard. “Looks like you are taking an antidepressant regularly. How long have you been on it?” I told him that I had started developing panic attacks and anxiety in my college years and had been taking medication for years. “What situations bring on your anxiety?” I told him that I had struggled with not just social anxiety, but also phobias about doctors, dentists, and eye doctors.

“Are you experiencing side effects?” I told him that my body got used to the medication fairly quickly, except that the sexual side effects had not faded away. It was hard for me to get an erection or have an orgasm. “Many people report that, unfortunately,” Dr. Little said. “If you don't mind me asking, do you and Jennifer have an intimate relationship?” I acknowledged that we did. “It's helpful if your partner understands what you're going through. Sometimes there are other ways you can show your affection when intercourse is difficult.”

Dr. Little turned toward Jennifer and asked, “Do you have any concerns as his caregiver?” She told him that I sometimes suffered from abdominal cramps and constipation. She had been trying to get me to eat more fiber and drink more water. I blushed a little as she said this. “Has this gotten worse lately?” he asked. I answered that I had had stomach troubles ever since I was a child, and that this was why my mother took me to the doctor so often when I was growing up. “I'll make sure that we look into that during the exam,” he informed me.

“Are you going to do a rectal exam?” I nervously asked.

“Yes, I will,” he said. “Have you had one before?” I nodded quickly. “Was it a bad experience?” I nodded again. “I know that it takes a lot of trust to let a doctor examine you in that way. I promise that I'll be really gentle.”

Jennifer spoke up. “I'll be here for you, sweetie. Don't worry.” I looked at her and smiled.