She’s in scrubs.
“I haven’t heard from you yet.” She lifts her brows, still looking at me.
“Heard from me about what?” I ask.
“You’re normally on top of it.”
“What did I forget? I’m busy with your emails as we speak and?—”
“It isn’t work-related.” She puts her hands in her pockets. “You’re due your contraceptive injection,” she says. “You normally remind me that you’re due. It just popped up on my calendar, so I thought I would check.”
I nod. “Oh yeah, I saw that. I’m swamped. Besides, I feel a little bad asking you to do it every time. It’s wrong of me. I was going to call the clinic and make an appointment like everyone else.”
She stares at me like I just grew a second head. “You’re not everyone else. Your doctor is your best friend. It’s one of the perks of putting up with me as a boss, as well. Besides, I’ve been giving you this injection for nearly two years.”
“I know, and I’ve been taking terrible advantage of you. It isn’t fair.” I gesture toward the door. “Go. I’ll get an appointment at the clinic. Don’t worry about it.”
She does not go. She leans against the doorframe. “I have time right now. It will take five minutes.”
“I have work to do.”
“It’s five minutes, Carla. Your work will still be here in five minutes, I promise you. I should know. Come on, let’s do this already.”
I pull up a new form. “And I told you, Robyn, I’m taking advantage of you. I’ll call the clinic.”
“The clinic is booked at least two weeks out.” She tips her head. “Minimum. What are you going to do in the meantime? What if you meet a cute guy and get knocked up?”
“I’m not seeing anyone.” I shake my head. “I’m not planning on sleeping with anyone either. Two weeks is fine.” I wave a hand.
She sighs like she’s dealing with someone very dense. “Carla, I insist. Now get your ass into my office, stat. It’s an order.”
“Fine.” I get up from my desk. “I’ll take the shot.”
“Good.” She straightens up, satisfied. “Come on, then.”
I follow her down the corridor to her office, where she grabs my file, which is already waiting on her desk. Then we go through to a small examination room up the hall.
“Sit up here.” She pats the table.
I hoist myself up, and she snaps on a pair of gloves and gets the blood pressure cuff from the hook on the wall. She wraps it around my upper arm, inflates it, and watches the gauge.
“Perfect,” she says, noting it down. “Good.” She sets the cuff aside. “Hop on the scale for me.”
I do. She notes the number without comment, and I get back on the table.
“Any changes to your medications since we last did this?”
“No.”
“New prescriptions from anyone else? Supplements, anything like that?”
“I started taking vitamin D. The pharmacy kind, nothing fancy.”
She notes it. “That’s fine. Any irregular bleeding or spotting since your last injection?”
“No. I still don’t menstruate anymore at all, which is fabulous.”
“Headaches? Migraines?”
