Does anybody actually like going to the doctor’s office?
Isn’t that the only place where good news might mean they’re going to cut you open?
And the magazine selection these days is just pathetic.
Like, are you telling me I have to actually subscribe to Popular Science now? Psh.
Anyhow, these are some mostly innocuous stories of visits to the doctor’s office, where embarrassment reigns supreme over other regular nuisances one might encounter while seeing doctor, like finding out your pre-existing cancer is no longer covered by your insurance:
I went in for a prostate exam, and when the doctor was performing it, I ejaculated.
She said it’s common, but I was totally embarrassed.
When I was 15, I went to my pediatrician for a check up. She did that thing that doctors do when they put their hands down your pants, cup your sack and tell you to cough.
I don’t know why they do it. I just refer to it as the pedophile pick-up, and people generally know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, she’s got my balls in her hand, and I’m kind of a smart ass so I look right into her eyes and say “Oh yeah… cradle the balls, stroke the shaft.”
She burst out laughing, walked out of the office, and told my mom.
Needless to say, I was displeased.
#3. Three bottles is a really a lot…
One day my left ovary just starts hurting like a motherfucker. Like, this is serious business I’m going to stab someone so they can feel my agony type pain.
I go to the doctor, and apparently, I need an ultrasound. Alright fine. But wait here’s the best part: it’s an intravaginal ultrasound.
For you Y-chromosome transports out there what this means is that they take this big cyberpunk dildo, shove it right the hell up your cooter and then sort of root around in there like it’s a fucking grab bag.
So as part of their “here’s how to make this suck less” packet, the hospital includes pretty specific instructions to drink three bottles of water an hour before your appointment, without going to the bathroom, so that they can tell which fleshy sack of muscle is your bladder and which is your uterus.
Being the good little patient I am, I did exactly that. So I go in there, gotta pee like a racehorse but I’m holding it in through sheer willpower. Soon the radiologist’s got her magic wand up my snatch and I hear a “whoa!”
I’m like, “oh hell no what the fuck is there to ‘whoa’ about in there?”
She turns the ultrasound screen towards me, points at this enormous black shape and goes, “How much water did you drink!?”
I tell her I drank three bottles, like the sheet told me to. She gives me this wide-eyed look. Apparently they put ‘three bottles’ on the instructions with the assumption that people would only be able to drink like, one or two and would stop when they couldn’t handle any more.
I powered through that shit, because when the guys with PhDs tell you to do something I like to assume it’s because they fucking mean it. We argue about how stupid it is to tell people to do shit you don’t want them to do for a few minutes.
Now recall that the whole time we’re having this discussion I’m lying there with a big damn plastic police baton wedged up in my business and a bladder full of Aquafina.
The radiologist has apparently forgotten that I came in to get my ovaries checked out in the first place, because one of them has become a tiny cylindrical torture machine, and the stupid bitch puts her hand on my abdomen while she’s talking, pushes the wand further into my downstairs, and in a burst of sudden, excruciating pain I piss all over her.
She squeals in surprise, and like four orderlies come running in, none of them bothering to shut the door behind them. So, there’s a busy hallway full of people with a clear view into the room. I’m still going like a water-hose, the radiologist is drenched in urine, and to top it all off, there’s a goddamn ultrasound wand sticking out my ladyhole.
Kodak. Fucking. Moment.
I showed up for my annual girly checkup to find out that my usual doctor had been called to some medical emergency – and was asked if I would I mind an OBGYN student performing the pelvic exam (supervised, of course).
I didn’t care, so I end up in a room with this REALLY young looking female resident and an older grandmotherly instructor.
So the resident goes through the routine, and when she was finished, “grandma” asks me if I minded her checking after the student to make sure nothing was missed.
Lady Redditors will probably understand how miserable a pelvic exam/pap is to sit through once- I was a little nonplussed about a second time but whatever, just get it over with.
And as she starts inserting a fresh new speculum, “grandma” looks at me and says: “My, aren’t we just getting tag-teamed today?”
When I was at the hospital giving birth to my son, the doctor broke my bag of water.
They saw meconium (first baby poop) in the amniotic fluid, so they started flushing me out. The baby was blocking the exit, so the fluid they pumped into me wasn’t coming back out. I remember them saying “we aren’t getting any return”.
It came time to push, and the doctor must’ve known what was coming because when I looked up after his head was out, she was dressed up like the Gorton’s fisherman. Head to toe rain-gear.
The moment his shoulder came free, any leftover amniotic fluid and all the fluid they filled me up with burst out in one GIANT birthing, liquid tidal-wave.
The entire birthing staff went, “WHOA!” and jumped back.
It was a remarkably wet entrance into the world for my son.
When I was 18 I had a lump on one of my testicles. I went in to my normal family doctor to check it out, and he said we needed to get an ultrasound on it to make sure it wasn’t cancer. Scary shit for an 18-year-old boy (or anyone, really).
So, I went to the imaging center, did the paperwork, went into the room, and sat on the table. After a couple minutes of waiting, in comes the nurse. She was blonde, probably about 25 and was smoking hot.
She told me to take my pants off, lay down on the table and spread my legs a bit. I instantly started feeling that familiar tingle down low and knew I was in for some trouble. She rubbed the jelly on the ultrasound camera and then put a little on her fingers and rubbed it onto my balls.
Feels good man.
She gently flipped my penis up and covered it with a towel so that just my scrotum was exposed, and that did it… I had a full fledged hardon within 6 seconds.
My face filled up with blood I was so embarrassed, and of course she knew. I tried to take my mind off of it by asking her questions about the machine and how it worked (did you know that they can place the cursor on the screen onto the image of a vein or artery and the machine will only pick up sound for that specific part?).
After about 15 minutes of her slowly rubbing that plastic tool all over my nuts, she finished up and said “Well, your testicles are healthy! Just some blockage in the vas deferens.”
And then she told me that masturbation should help clear it up.
A friend of a friend went to jump over a metal fence and slipped. He just jumped over and kept going.
Suddenly, he started feeling dizzy. He looks down, and there’s a huge hole in his pants, and there’s blood everywhere.
They get to the ER, he drops his pants, and the doctor goes, “Welp. You have 2 anuses.”
First off, for those who don‘t know what a diva cup is, it‘s a reusable silicone cup you put in your vagina while menstruating. It collects your blood, you take it out, rinse it, and life is good. No 1 am trips for overly expensive, off-brand tampons at a convenience store, and they‘re better for the environment.
So, I had just gotten a diva cup, and after a couple days I was feeling overly confident and decided this would be the night I kept it in over-night, but I guess it had decided to go much deeper than it should have.
Still being a diva cup noob, I wasn’t very adept at fishing it out, so after about 2 hours, several positions, and a shower, I rush to the on-campus doctor.
So, the first available doctor is a man in his 50s, I‘d guess. He starts off our encounter seeming somewhat suspicious – like maybe I am a fetishist/ bored/ whatever, but I‘m probably definitely wasting his time.
Skip a couple minutes forward, I’ve got my legs in the stirrups and the duck-billed instrument inside of me, and he is starting to realize that I may have actually gotten it stuck.
He can’t get it out, so he enlists the help of two nurses, all of whom were staring sympathetically at my vag, unsure how to proceed.
Eventually, they were able to get it out, (blood was everywhere), and I learned from a nurse who also uses a diva cup that the instructions that say to relax your muscles are completely wrong, and you need to push it out.
Back in middle school, I got kicked in the balls during a soccer game. I took some ibuprofen, sucked it up, and kept playing.
Cut to the next morning. It’s 6am, and I awake with a jolt. My balls hurt. It had been happening a lot lately, and I can usually fix it by massaging them in the shower.
Well, I hop in the shower, touch my junk, and yell in pain, falling in the process. Now I’m at the point where my stomach starts to hurt.
I climb upstairs and find some Tylenol, and I take more than the recommended dosage. I try to scream to my parents on the top floor, but no sound comes out. Wincing, I climb up to my parents’ room.
I look at the clock as I push open the door and its taken me 30 minutes throughout this ordeal. “My dad’s a nurse, he’ll know what to do” is what I thought. Well shit, he’s still at work, and won’t be home til 7:30am. My mom is here though.
I fall onto the floor and call my moms name. She helps me into the bed, and asks me what’s wrong.
“Uh…I-I-Its my balls.” I stutter out. I tell her that they still hurt after the game. She looks uncomfortable. We go downstairs, and I take more pills, and she consoles me like a mother should. By this point I’m crying and flailing, and I just want my dad to show up.
7:30 comes, and My dad comes through the door. Mom explains the situation, as I’m borderline delusional. He diagnoses me. And by that, I mean he looked at my testicles.
Nothing was more emasculating than having your dad look and touch your junk in an effort to fix the pain, in front of your mother, no less.
We go to an urgent-care hospital, and as soon as I get some anesthesia, I’ve stopped thrashing, and they can properly diagnose me. I have a Testicular torsion in my left testicle. So, this doctor and his interns (women, too. Sigh.) come in, and the doctor flips my scrubs to reveal the goods.
After massaging me for what felt like hours, he stares at my junk for a long time, before telling me that “The consistency is right, you have a nice scrotum kid. Too bad you need to have surgery.”
I passed out.
Luckily, they put me on some more drugs and did the procedure. It turns out that if I had waited another 4 hours, I would’ve lost my testicle completely.
A few months later, I go into a testicle specialist for a check-up. We’re in the room alone, and he tells me to drop my pants. Once again, I have to show an older fellow my junk.
He touches them for just a brief second, takes a step back, and exclaims “Wow! You really do have a nice consistency!”
#10. I believe this belongs to you…
I’m kind of kinky. Sometimes I’ll go out wearing a butt plug and a pair of my wife’s panties beneath my normal clothing.
No one else can tell, but even just the idea is so hot for me.
One day when I was doing that I got into a car accident. I was rushed into the hospital. I had to be stripped down so they could make sure I was okay.
I’m sure a nurse had to remove my panties and butt plug.
Even more embarrassing was when she gave it back after I was getting changed out of my hospital gown.
When I was younger, I went to the doctor, and I’m not sure why, but he had to see my dick for some reason.
So, I took off my pants, and upon seeing my junk, he frowned, looked up at me, back to me junk, and frowned again. Great way to start a career of phallic disappointment.
I was about 12-years-old, showing up for my routine physical. It was about to begin. I jumped on the scale, then my stomach started killing me. It slowly went away.
The testicle toss was coming up. I’m holding in my diarrhea-churning stomach. I get the okay to cough as she cups my balls.
Yeah, I coughed a little harder than usual, and I splattered poop everywhere. I left specks of poop juice on the outer side of her hand and shit a soupy spot on the floor.
I never went back again.
I dislocated my shoulder in a snowboarding accident, and ended up in the ER. I was freaking out when the doctor walked in, so the nice nurse came in to help comfort me.
Before the doc even started, I was squirming like a baby, and I started to feel cozy and happy, thinking maybe the painkillers had finally kicked in.
Turns out, I was nuzzling the nurse’s breasts with my face and really enjoying it.
When I realized what I was doing, I quickly peeled my face away and apologized frantically. She said it was alright.
I’m a girl.
I was at the eye doctor.
He was examining my eye and he said, “OK, now open wide.”
I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and waited.
An uncomfortable moment passed before he said, “I meant your eye.”
Female doctor: “Oh I forgot to ask one thing before I let you go… Are you sexually active?”
21 year old me: “No.”
Female doctor: “I figured.”
This article was first published by our partners at Did You Know?