Corey took a seat in the soft black leather chair closest to the entrance. He checked his phone, more out of an anxious, young millennial habit than out of any actual need for it. He put the phone back in his pants pocket and looked around the quaint lobby—a couple abstract geometric paintings hung on the walls, a magazine rack, some medical posters encouraging regular check-ups and physical exams—and Corey appreciated the attention to detail. A pleasant lavender aroma filled the room, funneling up from a nearby aromatherapy diffuser and providing a small relief from Corey's usual doctor-induced stress.
Elsa, a middle-aged, slender woman who operated the front desk, paced into the lobby, her curly brown hair bouncing slightly as she walked. She regarded Corey with the same wide smile and pleasant countenance that he remembered from last time.
"Okay, I let him know you're here and Dr. Wilson will be out in just a few minutes," Elsa said. "Do you need anything? Coffee? Water?"
"I'm alright, thanks."
"No problem! Well if you need anything I'll be right over here."
As Elsa walked back over to her desk and began poking at her keyboard, Corey's thoughts drifted. Due to some awkward past experiences, Corey usually very much disliked doctor visits; and since he had turned twenty-one only a few weeks ago, he rarely needed to go in for anything other than a routine check-up or the occasional over-the-top flu. Most doctors he could remember were cold and detached, too clinical to be comforting. Corey always felt like he was wasting their time and that the doctors didn't care about him in any personal way.
But when he had met Dr. Wilson for the first time a few months ago, it felt different. From what Corey could recall the doctor was probably in his late thirties, tall but stocky, with black hair and a stubbly beard that was just beginning to show the first signs of greying. His face had lit up when the doctor walked into the room and met Corey for the first time—Dr. Wilson had regarded him with a quick smile and a firm handshake, and sat patiently while Corey explained his medical history and background.
Corey had explained that he was a collegiate soccer player at the local university, and how that kept him in great physical shape but also invariably led to the occasional injury. Dr. Wilson had then shared about his own time as a college wrestler, and how it had been cut short when he tore his ACL at the end of the first year. Even though Dr. Wilson more than likely hadn't trained at a high level for quite some time, his burly figure made it apparent that the doctor still exercised and retained a good amount of muscle.
After a couple minutes of glancing around the lobby and skimming a nearby magazine, Corey looked up and saw Dr. Wilson's imposing frame stroll into the lobby. It was nice to see a doctor who wore regular business attire—a button-down plaid shirt, trim slacks, and a clean pair of hazel dress shoes. The stethoscope around his neck affirmed his profession well enough without need for one of those overly long white lab coats, Corey thought.
He beckoned Corey to the back with a clipboard in hand, smiling in his usual hospitable way.
"Good morning! How have you been" Dr. Wilson ventured, patting Corey on the back.
"Pretty good. Just getting ready for the season to start and got to get this physical out of the way."
"Of course, of course, we can take care of that real quick," the doctor held open the door to one of the patient rooms. "Anything else we need to look at?"
Corey shook his head. "Not that I can think of right now."
Dr. Wilson closed the door behind them and took a seat on a circular rolling stool, scooting in towards the chair Corey had selected. The room was small and contained all the usual equipment and furniture—a long, padded exam table in the middle, various machines for taking measurements and running tests, informational posters strung up here and there.
"Did you get a new haircut? Growing it out a little bit?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "Just figured I might as well grow it out while I've still got it."
"I like it! Looks good."
Corey began to feel slightly more nervous, without completely understanding why; something about Dr. Wilson's features and demeanor made Corey anxious and excited at the same time. He usually dreaded going in for physical exams, having to strip down in front of some stranger and have him poke and prod looking for some sort of ailment. But something about Dr. Wilson made him feel somewhat better about the whole awkward situation.
"Okay so let's just go ahead and get started then. Would you prefer a medical gown, or do you just want to wear your boxers?"
Corey shifted in his chair slightly. "I guess I can just wear my boxers."
"Great. So I'll step out for a minute, go ahead and take off everything except your boxers and sit up on the exam table."
The doctor gave Corey another pat on the back before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. Corey followed the instructions and quickly took off everything but his boxers, exposing his lanky, athletic frame. Being a college athlete was ridiculously challenging work, but it had some definite advantages; one being that it was impossible not to be in peak physical shape. The soccer player's calves and thighs were muscled and somewhat hairy. Corey's upper body was far less hairy but just as well-defined. The backs of his thighs felt cold from the metal plate along the side of the exam table, and it made him shudder.
