Who's Afraid of the Big Bad ... Doctor's Office?

When we visited my mom in a rehabilitation center following her knee replacement, Teddy was freaked out by her room there. At first I thought it was the contraption that automatically bent and straightened her leg, but that didn't seem to be it. Rather than fight it, Dave kept Teddy entertained in the common area, checking out fishies and scoping out the rest of the place. We chalked it up to Teddy being scared of seeing Grandma out of her normal environment and capabilities (although he had a blast with both her walkers).

Teddy was teaching Grandma how to walk.

So I was a bit surprised when I took Teddy to his neurology appointment last week when he cried when I set him on the scale for his weight. I became more perplexed when he continued to cry and act afraid when we went into the exam room. Teddy's norm is to engage new, smiling faces and attempt to take any of the objects they're using to get measurements because they are obviously toys for him. Instead, he whimpered and cried and eyed the nurse like she was Santa's helper the entire time. (That, folks, is not a compliment in Teddy's mind.)

He settled down and warmed up quite a bit as the appointment continued with his awesome neurologist, but he still wasn't his usually Teddy self. (He didn't even try to eat the doctor's pet parrot Jabber.)

Honestly, I'm befuddled as to what caused this change for Teddy because there was nothing traumatic (from my viewpoint at least) at the rehab place or the neurology office. No labs, no confining tests, nothing that would agitate Teddy (and even those rarely cause much more than a few tears while they occur). Although I'm happy to see him demonstrate his emotions and dislikes, why couldn't he develop a fear of being too high when he climbs onto the kitchen table instead?