Keywords: MF, medical, humiliation, gyno
Summary: A young student visits the college doctor about her sore throat. But things don't develop quite as she had imagined.
Claire Turner switched out the light before closing and locking her door in the Medway student block. It was just two flights down to the ground level and as she skipped carelessly down the staircase, she could smell the stale air and mingled aromas of numerous student breakfasts. Most of them, she thought to herself, were barely able to manage even a slice of toast before lectures started at 9 in the teaching building. Claire, on the other hand, preferred healthier options such as fruit and cereals. On leaving the building, the colder air was noticeable in her nose. She'd felt that tell-tale roughness in her throat a few days ago and had decided to ignore it. But now, the pain in her sinuses suggested an infection had started to get established, so she figured she'd better see a doctor before it got too bad. End of term exams only two weeks away, after all, and she didn't want to feel rotten for those.
The student medical centre was on the far side of campus and she pulled her coat close to her against the chill, March wind as she walked past the law library and the chemistry building. After a few minutes, she reached the small, brick building and entered the double doors marked 'Student Health.' The receptionist behind the desk was a smartly dressed, middle aged woman who looked up from her screen with an unconvincing half-smile which suggested she'd rather be somewhere else.
'Yes? Can I help you miss?' Her monotone gave the same impression.
'Oh.. yes. I've come to see a doctor. It's my throat, I...'
'Name?' The receptionist now looked back to her screen and clattered at her keyboard.
'Turner. Claire Turner.'
'Undergraduate?'
'Undergraduate. Yes. I'm a first year,' she added, with an upward inflection.
'Sore throat, you say. Anything else?' she looked up again, not really any more kindly than the first time.
'It's been a few days now. I think it's starting to develop into a full blown infection though.' More clattering of the keyboard and the receptionist furrowed her brow in concentration.
'Go through. Dr Kinnaman. He'll call you when he's ready.' She gestured to her right and the door to the waiting room. No one else here, she thought. Good. Shouldn't have to wait too long. Her guess was right, as it turned out. No sooner had she picked up a dog eared copy of 'Elle' from the table, a voice called her name.
'Claire Turner?' It was a pleasant baritone and she looked up to see a tall man in a white coat standing at the corner of the corridor. He smiled and extended his hand as if to beckon her. She got up and walked towards him. He appeared to be about 40 years of age and well-built. Healthy sort, she thought. Probably into exercise. He had a kind face and she was immediately put at her ease as she followed him in down the corridor to his office. It seemed surprisingly active and busy with people, she thought. Not at all the impression the exterior of the building had given her. On the contrary, this seemed like the main corridor in a large hospital with numerous doctors, nurses and patients going about their business. They came to a door about half way down and he opened it, guiding her in to his consulting room. The plate read 'Dr A Kinnaman -- Physician'.
The room was larger than a typical doctor's office and had a good deal of equipment and cabinets. From the ceiling in the centre extended a large, articulated metal arm holding various things she assumed to be x-ray cameras and lights of some kind. The arm was positioned directly above an elaborate examination table which had multiple, tilting sections and stirrups for the legs. She shuddered slightly at the sight of the latter; she'd only had a few gynaecological exams, but they were always rather unpleasant and embarrassing. She was glad that this visit was only for a throat infection. Claire noticed a second door to the office on the left hand wall, close to the table and wondered briefly why the room needed two doors. She was aware of that vague, clinical smell of disinfectant and other medical substances. It was reassuring and emphasised how clean and tidy the room was, but at the same time it engendered that slight sense of anxiety she always had when visiting the doctor.
'Do sit down, Miss Turner, please.' He indicated to the chair positioned in front of his desk and waited politely for her to sit down before taking his own seat behind it. He called up her records on the university database and peered at the screen. 'Claire Louise Turner. 16.4.98' he paused, looking up at her for confirmation. 'That you?'
'Yes, doctor. That's correct.'
'So,' he smiled at her, 'what seems to be the problem?' She proceeded to relay her recent symptoms and history and shuffled slightly on her chair as he got up and came around the desk to her.
'Ok, let's have a listen, shall we?' He took hold of the bell of his stethoscope and nodded towards her chest. She immediately realised what he was meaning and started to un-button the white cotton blouse. She laughed nervously,
'Oh.. yes. Sorry. Of course.' He smiled back at her, crouching beside her chair.
'These things don't work too well through cotton, I'm afraid!'
'No. Of course..' she laughed nervously again as she untucked the tails of the blouse and opened it to reveal her lightly tanned chest. 'Do you need me to take my bra off too?'
'Oh no, don't worry about that,' he replied. 'I can work around it.' She shuffled forward slightly and pushed her chest towards him as he gently placed the stethoscope just above her bra. She was surprised at the slight sense of embarrassment she felt at even this modest exposure. Although she was relieved she didn't have to take it off, she was acutely aware that the upper part of her breasts were visible and she wished, in hindsight, that she'd worn a fuller bra. 'Breathe in and out slowly please.' As she complied with his request, he moved the stethoscope from place to place and listened intently. After a minute or so, he dropped the stethoscope to his chest and looked up at her. 'Well, you are a bit crackly. Probably a minor chest infection starting there. Let's take a look at that throat too shall we?' He took a pen torch out of his top pocket and she opened her mouth obediently as he peered in. 'Yes.. that's a bit red too. Nothing a short course of antibiotics won't put right,' he said as he took his seat again. 'Probably only a virus, but better be on the safe side, eh?'
'Oh. Yes, doctor.' She went to button up her blouse again, but as she did so, he spoke again.
'Just a sec, of you don't mind. Before you do that.' Claire looked up at him, puzzled. She had a assumed the consultation was over.
'Is there something else?' she asked. He didn't reply immediately. He was scribbling what she assumed to be a prescription and mumbling quietly to himself as he did so. 'It's just... I assumed we were done.' He tore a sheet off his pad and handed it to her.
'There you go. Amoxycillin. Five days. That will do the trick.' He sat back and put his hands behind his head, looking at her. The intensity of his gaze was slightly off putting and she wasn't sure if she should repeat her question. But as she sat there, feeling mildly awkward in her bra, he spoke, as if anticipating her. 'Since you're here, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping us with a spot of research we're doing?'
'Research?' she repeated. 'Um.. I'm not sure what you mean?' He sat forward and continued.
'Well. Here at the health centre, we're running a small study for the Department of Human Anatomy. It might end up being published in a scientific journal if we can get enough data. We have about 20 subjects already on file, but we probably need double that, ideally.'
'Subjects?' asked Claire. This piqued her interest. Her degree was in biochemistry and she hoped to go into scientific research herself, if it went well. 'What sort of research is it?'
'Well.' He paused, looking down briefly at his desk. 'Essentially we are collecting a data series about anatomical and physiological parameters of normal, healthy females. It's to establish a baseline set of data which will be enormously valuable in assessing a variety of problems in women's health.'
'Oh. Ok.' She tried to sound more intelligent than she actually felt. She believed strongly that women's health was a very important issue and she felt she wanted to be able with such a useful sounding project. Nevertheless, she wanted to know a little more about what she might be letting herself in for. 'Um.. what kind of things?'
