Taking an annual physical Finally, it was time for my yearly checkup. I was supposed to take it in early January this year, but because of the outbreak of corona-virus, though there were no confirmed cases in my city, I decided to put it off, just to be on the safe side. I had called my doctor for an appointment last Saturday, hoping to get it done that day. Unfortunately, he was booked until this week. Being put on a waiting list is preferable to booking another appointment for another day. This morning his assistant called in and told me that he was ready to see me. I was half-thrilled and half-worried. On the one hand, I could know my health and thus take care of myself better; on the other hand, what if it ended up bad, what if I had some problems with my blood pressure or cholesterol level or something even worse? Considering my lack of exercise and unhealthy diet over the past two months whilst quarantined at home, I had a good reason to be worried. I couldn’t get around it, anyway. So, I just drove over to my doctor. There wasn’t much of a crowd in the hospital. For fear of getting infected, the hospital has become the last place that people would like to go to on Earth. I went to the reception desk and checked in. This time, they needed more information about me than they normally do and took my temperature. After confirming that I had no traveling history to outbreak zones and that my temperature was normal, one of the receptionists instructed me to the exam room, down the hallway on the second floor, last door on the left. The door was open. I walked in and the doctor waved at me to take a seat. He read my chart and we talked a little bit about the crisis. After checking and inputting my health information on his computer, he led me through a door on the right to another room where there were some instruments. He asked me to strip down to my underwear and had me lie down on the exam table. First he placed a stethoscope on my chest to listen to my heartbeat and breathing. Then he grabbed another instrument and smeared some kind of gel onto my belly before placing that instrument and moving it around my abdomen. After that, he ordered a blood test. This was the part that I feared most, not for the pain, but the blood itself. I might pass out over seeing blood. Taking the test was easy. It was only like a sting on the tip of my middle finger. Then, the doctor put a very thin straw-like stick ( the name of which I don’t know) on the tiny cut and it sucked..