Sweater Guy and Cubicle Girl

Corey Goes to the Doctor

I always get the mail on the way home from work since Corey is too lazy to walk to the mailbox. I had got the mail one day and was going to walk back inside as I read each piece.
"Bill... bill... magazine... trash... checkup reminder..."
When I got inside Corey asked me what came in the mail.
"Oh just the usual, you got a checkup reminder from the doctor though. Why don't you make an appointment for next Wednesday? It's gonna be one of those boring inventory days at work."

"Oh I'm not gonna make an appointment, just throw that away." He said, laying on the couch watching a children's cartoon.

"But Corey the doctor is important. Anything can happen anytime, the least you can do is get a checkup once a year." I said. I strongly believe in the importance of doctors.

"Isn't once a year a little much?" He said.

"When's the last time you went to a doctor?" I asked.

"Last year." He said.

"Well what did the doctor tell you?"

"Oh she just said something like eat healthier and prescribed some gross medicine for something, I can't really remember." He answered.

"So... did you eat healthier and take your gross medicine?"

"No and kinda."

"Corey! What if it was serious? You're going to the doctor and I don't care what you say I'm coming with you to make sure you actually go."

"Noo I don't want to!"

"Why?"

"I'm scared."

"I'll be with you the whole time, I promise."

Eventually Corey agreed. We set the appointment for Wednesday and he dreaded the day when it came. It was like trying to get a stubborn little boy to the doctor. He wouldn't budge out of bed so I grabbed his arm and pulled, "COREY LETS GO WE'RE GONNA BE LATE" I screamed.

"No!"

"COREY— YES" I jumped onto his bed and started to try to push him off, when that didn't work I kicked him repeatedly until he got up. "Go get dressed." I shooed him to the bathroom, throwing random clothes I had gotten out of his dresser at him.

"None of these match!"

"COREY JUST GET DRESSED OH MY GOSH."

He was startled by my screaming and actually listened. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a few snacks for him to eat in the car so he wasn't fussy. After too many minutes he finally came out all dressed but he wasn't done with his little 'I don't wanna go' tantrum. I lead him into the car with snacks and we left finally. When we got there he didn't want to do the paperwork and I had to do it for him, reading it out loud.

"What's your full name?"

"Constantín Vosilyev."

"You don't have a middle name?"

"I do but it's none of your business."

"Ugh, how tall are you?"

"6'4"

"Wait actually? You seem even taller than that!"

"You're just short."

"Whatever. Your weight?"

"That's definitely none of your business."

"Ugh fine! You do it then!!" I exclaimed, throwing the papers on his lap.

"Why is it asking if I have depression? That's not a body doctors business that's a dream journal doctors business."

I was very confused by that comment. "Dream journal doc—You mean a psychologist?"

"Yea whatever 'psy-collen-jis'"

"Just finish your paperwork" I was fed up with his tantrum.

Once he finished, the nurse called him in. "I'm going to take your height and weight now." She told him.

"Why'd I write it on the form if you were gonna take it anyway?" He asked more curiously than bitchy.

"We'd like an exact measurement." She said, leading him to the scale.

"Okay well I lied on the form it's gonna be completely different than what this says." He said, shamefully. Then he pointed to me and said "you—don't look." I nodded in agreement.

After that she took his blood pressure and temperature, of course he had stuff to say about that, he actually panicked a bit when getting his blood pressure checked, "WHY IS IT SQUEEZING ME MY ARM MY ARM WHAT IF IT GETS STUCK ON ME I DONT LIKE THIIIISSSS" After all that the doctor came in and discussed the usual. 'Is anything bothering you?' and such questions.

Then, she told him she was going to take his blood and do some tests, she said based on the checkup nothing was bad, she just wanted to do his labs since they didn't have any on file. Corey didn't know what any of that meant so he just agreed.

"So, how are you with needles?" The blood test guy asked Corey.

"Oh like shot needles? I don't like them but it's fine I guess." He said.

The guy said okay and began to insert the needle. I let Corey hold my hand during this but he squeezed it so tight I thought my fingers were going to break. Then the nurse guy connected the tubey thingy and drew blood. As the blood flowed through into the little capsule I felt Corey's grip loosen. "Corey are you okay?" I asked. Corey mumble-answered and then leaned back and passed out! The nurse had already finished and began to help me with him. A few minutes later Corey started to wake up. "Are you alright? I asked."

"Yea..."

"I thought you said you were okay with needles? Not so much huh? I'm sorry Corey." I asked, holding his hand again.

"It's not needles that freak me out, it's blood." He said, eating a cooke that the nurse gave him to help him regain strength.

"I'm sorry I made you come to the doctor, I just worry you know?"

"Yeah..." he said, still grumpy.

"Well, I'll buy you anything you want on the way home and we can do anything you want for the rest of the day"

"I want Mcdonalds and and I wanna watch The Sound of Music." He said.

"Ugh I forgot you like musicals, you're not going to be singing along the whole time are you?" I asked.

He gasped and said "I thought this was my day."

"Fine."

The rest of the afternoon was filled with him annoying me with his musical. He sung every song at the top of his lungs just to annoy me. I suppose it's fine though... he deserved it for coming to the doctor.