She was running late. Again. God damn it. She practically flew through the clinic's swinging door, ignoring the stares and pointed glances that followed her. She'd had to reschedule this appointment so many times she was surprised that they hadn't simply laughed at her, and now, for this last possible slot she was running late.
She was sweating slightly as she reached the counter, and the man behind the desk gave her an appraising look, no doubt he can guess who I am, she thought, and gave him a rueful smile.
"Hi, my name's Margaret Echols, I'm here for a 4:45pm appointment."
His glance at the clock confirmed the sinking feeling in her chest, but he just gave a small shake of his head and handed her some forms to fill out.
She filled them out as quickly as possible, barely glancing at them, and trying not to be too nervous. She hated hospitals, and gynecological visits gave her more anxiety than anything else. She'd managed to almost completely avoid them, but it had been two years, and she couldn't put it off anymore.
As she returned the forms the clerk looked up from behind the computer.
"Great, Dr. Elliot will be out shortly."
She did a double take. "Dr. Elliot? I thought I was seeing Dr. Benson."
He sighed and took a tone of forced patience, "We tried to contact you, left a message on your phone? Unfortunately we've had to reschedule you so many times, and the only times you were available were so late in the day that Dr. Elliot is the only person available. He's an excellent physician though, he teaches at the medical school. I'm sure he'll do a very thorough exam for you. If you'd like to sit down we'll call you when we're ready." He looked down his nose at her. "Otherwise... I suppose we could reschedule again..."
Her throat seemed to close, but she shook her head, "It's okay, thank you."
She took a seat as the room emptied around her until she was the only patient there. She clutched her bag and tried to take deep breaths. There were some magazines to try and distract her, but none that remotely held her attention. At long last a door opened, and another man in a white coat consulted his chart before looking straight at her.
"Margaret Echols?"
She nodded, and he smiled, jerking his head. "Come on back."
She rose, her legs feeling like jelly, and followed him. They walked through several empty hallways, and only saw one other person, a young man in a medical coat who nodded to the doctor as they passed. She frowned, wondering where everyone was. He stopped outside a plain marked door and ushered her in.. As she settled opposite him she took a moment to look him over. He was a bit older, but had a strong jaw and a commanding presence. His eyes were sharp, but kind. Her stomach twisted again, and she tried to feel somewhat reassured by his calm manner and gentle smile. He closed the door and sat as she tried to adjust on the exam table.
He consulted his chart again, "now, Ms. Echols, I see here that it's been over two years since your last exam," he glanced up to see her red with embarrassment. "And while you may not exactly be in the age range where problems come up it is still very important that you have regular check ups, especially if you have a history of breast or cervical cancer in your family. Do you understand, young lady?"
He gave her a severe look over his glasses, and she nodded meekly.
"Very good. Now, normally a nurse would bring you in to the exam room and prep you, but unfortunately since you were only able to come in after 5pm, the clinic has closed for regular business hours and none are available. Never fear, however, if you'll remove your clothes, bra and underwear can remain on for now, we can begin." He stood. "I'll be outside, just rap on the door when you're done, I'll give it a beat, and come on in."
She nodded, but was beginning to feel flushed and hot. God she wanted this to be over. Her hands shook as she removed her shirt and jeans. Should she keep her socks on? No, that seemed ridiculous. She put everything in a pile, rapped on the door, and scrambled back to the exam table, covering herself with a sheet. After a pause the doctor returned.
He smiled, noting her flushed cheeks and how tightly she pressed her legs together.
"Very good. Would you mind sitting straight up for me, I'm going to do some basic tests before the mammogram."
He checked her breathing and posture, his strong hands warm against her frigid skin. At last he stopped. "All right, young lady. We're going to do the breast exam now, and I'm going to ask you to remove your bra and turn toward me. I promise it's nothing I haven't seen before."
She tried to move, but it was as though her limbs were frozen. Ice washed through her and she couldn't speak. He looked at her closely and tutted.
"Oh dear, a panic attack?" She nodded, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry Margaret. We have a couple of options. The first is, I can give you something to help you relax, something small you'll barely even notice, or I can give you a couple of minutes to try and recover. Finally, we could try to reschedule."
She shook her head rapidly at that last suggestion. The thought of going through all of this a second time was awful.
He nodded again. "I understand. Would you like me to prep a relaxant? It's incredibly mild. We can try to wait it out but," he checked his watch," I don't have unlimited time, unfortunately."
She took a deep breath, and managed: "I'll try it, thank you."
He smiled again, turning away from her, "very good. Just give me one moment... ready."
He came back only seconds later with a needle. She cringed and closed her eyes.
"Not to worry, you won't even feel it." There was a slight pressure, a small prick, and then nothing. She opened her eyes to find the doctor regarding her closely. "How do you feel? It should be almost instantaneous."
