At 9:00, about an hour after my phone call, I found myself walking into the almost empty waiting room at Village Pediatrics. There was just one other patient there, a small boy with his mother. In one sense, it was nice to show up without my own mom, since I was keen to project a level of maturity commensurate with being a college senior. On the other hand, I had to admit that, deep down, part of me sort of missed having her there to manage everything and attend my exam. It was a strange sentiment that I couldn’t precisely understand, so I just tucked it away in the back of my mind.

While checking in at the reception window, I noted that Lori, who had sounded so mature on the phone earlier, was in fact barely older than me. I could have sworn that she gave a slight smirk as she told me that one of the nurses, Janet Taylor, would be out shortly to get me. I took one of the many empty seats and waited with some apprehension. As I stared at the door leading back to the exam rooms, my mind drifted back in time…

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Nurse Janet had been working at Village Pediatrics since I had been in grade school. A few years younger than Mom, she was both friendly and pretty, in a down-to-earth way. She had handled my preliminaries many times. Because Mom still took my temperature rectally at home during my teenage years, those preliminaries invariably entailed me getting naked on the exam table and having Janet insert a thermometer into my bottom. By my early teens, I realised that it was unusual for kids my age to have to submit to “baby” thermometers, so it was always highly embarrassing. That was especially trued since I knew my twin sister had switched to oral readings when we were 10 and often got to stay in the exam room and watch me have to submit to the procedure. Nonetheless, for some reason, I didn’t really mind the fact that Mom had stuck with the same method for me…

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I woke from my reverie when the door to the back opened, and Janet appeared. She was wearing the usual scrub uniform of the practice, including a pink top printed with images of cartoon characters. There was a stethoscope dangling from around her neck, which bounced off her medium-sized breasts as she walked.

“Hi Luke! Good to see you back,” she said as she greeted me. “I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well, but hopefully, we can get to the bottom of things. Come on back, so we can get you checked out.”

As she guided me down the quiet corridor, I couldn’t help but notice that we walked right past an unoccupied room that had a “Teens Corner” sign next to the door. It wasn’t the first time I had seen it, but the empty practice that day somehow made it stand out. Peering inside, I noted that it had the same countertop work area as the other rooms, with the usual array of medical supplies and equipment. The exam setup, however, was different. Instead of the flat table in the middle like I was used to, there was an adjustable exam couch in the corner, with one end propped up into a seated position. The room gave off a more mature vibe and was obviously designed for the practice’s older patients.

I started wondering why they had never assigned me to the “Teens Corner”. In fact, for as long as I could remember, I had always been examined in what could only be called “kiddie” rooms and never given the option of a more grown-up environment. Apparently, the “never” in my observation also included that day, since Janet led me right past it to room 8, which had a more traditional pediatric setup. There were cartoon decorations on the wall and, in the middle, a white cabinet-style exam table, about 6 feet long, covered with a thin blue cushion. The flat top was about as high as my waist, and there was a small 3-step stool to help patients climb up and down. The cushion already had a sheet of white paper drawn across it.

Janet pushed the door about one-quarter closed as we entered. The room smelled faintly of alcohol, which reminded me uncomfortably of getting shots when I was younger. My attention soon moved to the work counter, where, among other items, there were two jars filled with glass thermometers in clear liquids. The one on the left had a large “O” label and held thermometers with long, thin tips. The other one was labelled “R”, and it contained instruments that had short, stubby bulbs. That’s when it occurred to me that, during my quick glance inside the “Teens Corner” room, I had seen only an “O” jar on the counter there.

After instructing me to climb up and sit on the edge of the table, Janet opened my chart and started inquiring about my symptoms. Fortunately, the topic of my temperature didn’t come up, so I was spared the need to explain my choice of measurement method earlier that morning. She did ask, though, when I had last had a check-up and gave one of those maternal looks of disapproval when she learned that I hadn’t seen a doctor since the summer after high school. Once we had finished going over a few more questions about my general health, I figured that she would have a quick look at my nose and throat and that we’d be done. That assumption proved to be wrong.

“OK, Luke,” Janet said in the friendly but authoritative tone that I remembered from my childhood. “I need you to strip to your underwear so we can get started.”

That turn of events was certainly surprising. After all, I was just in for a sinus infection. Why would I need to be undressed? Could it have something to do with the fact that I hadn’t had a recent check-up? I debated with myself several seconds whether to object. But then, something inside my brain clicked, and I realised that part of me wouldn’t really mind being treated the same way as when I was younger. Once again, I didn’t fully understand all the emotions inside my head so just pushed them temporarily to the back. I obediently hopped down and started undressing while Janet made notes in my chart.

Once I had stripped to my white briefs (vaguely regretting not having thought to wear boxer shorts to appear more grown-up), I used the step stool to climb back up onto the exam table. That’s when I realised that the door was still mostly open, allowing me to see out into the corridor from my vantage point on top of the children’s exam table. Fortunately, there was no one there, but I still felt rather exposed. I gingerly made a comment about it to Janet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Luke. But since you don’t have an adult chaperone, our policy requires me to keep the door open,” she answered. “Don’t worry, there’s practically no one in the office today,” she added, as if that should reassure me.

I was about to make an objection that I was technically an adult myself. But Janet quickly clipped an oximeter onto my finger and took hold of my wrist to measure my pulse. I didn’t want to interrupt her as she was counting, so didn’t say anything. And with the exam starting, the open door soon slipped from my attention.

After she had finished taking my pulse and removed the oximeter, Janet picked up the blood pressure cuff from the work counter. My heart started racing as she lodged my wrist under her arm to free up both her hands to wrap the device around my upper arm. I could feel the side of her breast pressing against the back of my hand. It felt soft and warm, and I immediately got an erection. Try as I might to will down the swelling, I couldn’t take my mind off the feeling of her breast. My face must have turned several shades of red as Janet inflated the cuff then listened intently as the pressure dropped.

Once she had finished with the blood pressure, Janet picked up an otoscope and had long looks in each of my ears, down my throat and inside my nostrils, observing that there were indeed signs of infection. She then removed her stethoscope from around her neck and placed the cold diaphragm on my chest to auscultate my heart. After moving it around a few times while listening, she repositioned it to my back and asked me to take deep breaths. She noted reassuringly that my lungs sounded clear, so I figured the exam was almost finished. Once again, I was wrong.

“I need to take your temperature now,” she said. Her tone was clinical, but a discreet smile had appeared on her face.

My heart started racing. I had figured since arriving that I would eventually have to confront this moment, but the imminence of it was still unsettling. I steeled myself in anticipation of having to manage an oral thermometer in my mouth. I could practically taste the alcohol already and began silently preparing some excuses, in case I wouldn’t be able to keep it under my tongue. It turned out, however, that Janet had something else in mind.

“So, go ahead and take off your undies and lie down on your tummy for me,” she instructed.

This development flabbergasted me, particularly since her childish language suggested a new, rather condescending attitude. There was no query to me about how I would prefer to have my temperature taken. No analysis of whether or not we should try to get an oral or axillary reading. It was simply a given that she would be using a rectal thermometer, just like she used to when Mom would bring me in for my appointments as a boy and teenager.

I realised then that Lori must have made a note in my chart after I had phoned earlier that morning and disclosed how I had taken my own temperature at home. Maybe the two women had even discussed it among themselves when deciding which exam room to assign me to? That thought caused me to turn an even brighter shade of red.

Having a rectal temperature imposed on me like a child, without even being offered an alternative, was obviously deeply embarrassing. But in another sense, I felt an inexplicable excitement at the idea of having to bare my bottom again for this rather attractive middle-aged woman whose breast I had just touched. The thought of her penetrating me again with a baby thermometer sent weird shivers down my spine.

So, I didn’t even try to argue. I obediently climbed down from the exam table and removed my last piece of clothing. Now that I was stark naked, my erection was rather obvious, so I climbed back up as fast as possible and lay down on my stomach. Propping myself on my elbows, I watched with anticipation as Janet removed a stubby-tipped thermometer from the “R” jar, shook it down and applied a thick glob of Vaseline to the tip. She then turned back to me holding up the lubricated instrument. It was hard to know whether the smile on her face reflected sympathy or condescension, or something else altogether.

With the thumb and index finger of her right hand, Janet spread my buttocks. She then warned me that I would feel some pressure and deftly inserted the cold thermometer into my rectum. She had obviously done this hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, and her movements were confident. I had to suppress a slight gasp as I felt it slide in until the tip came to rest deep inside me. As I lay there with Janet’s hand cupping my bottom to hold the thermometer in place, I recalled the many times during my childhood and teenage years that I would find myself in this exact same position, and I sank into a sort of nostalgic daydream, with my now completely hard penis pressed into the cushion under me.

After about two minutes, I heard footsteps coming down the hall and suddenly remembered with alarm that the door to the exam room was still open. A few seconds later there was a knock on the open door, and Lori walked in without waiting for an answer.

“Oh…. Sorry to interrupt,” she said as she saw me lying there. Her face flushed slightly as her eyes darted to the thermometer that Janet was holding in my rectum. Her smug smile suggested that she wasn’t really very sorry, but she quickly regained her composure and turned to Janet.

“Janet, I have the mother of Timothy Smith on the line. He has been coughing nonstop since waking up this morning. Would you mind if I schedule him at 11:45? I know you wanted an early lunch, but it sounds urgent.”

Janet acquiesced to the appointment with a quick “Sure, no problem”.

“Also, Phillips Pharmacy just called. They dispatched their delivery boy a few minutes ago with the ampicillin we ordered. I wasn’t expecting it until this afternoon, when the lab team would be back. Since you’re the only authorised signatory in the office this morning, would you mind if I bring you the shipping voucher for validation when it arrives?”

Janet again agreed, and Lori thankfully left the room, though not before having another long look at my naked body on the exam table. I heard her footsteps fade as she walked back down the corridor toward the front office. My face must have turned another shade of red.

After a few more minutes of embarrassed silence, Janet finally removed the thermometer from my rectum.

“You’re running a low-grade fever, young man,” she announced after wiping and reading the instrument. “It’s 101.5.” She placed it in a tray marked “Sterilizer” and turned back to face me. Pulling the stethoscope from around her neck, she gave another instruction that filled me with dread: “Go ahead and turn over onto your back, please.”

To say I was petrified would be an understatement. My penis was still rock-hard underneath me, and I was concerned about how Janet would react when she saw it. Would she think I was a pervert? Would she tell Mom? All sorts of questions flew through my head, causing me to hesitate. But then, once again, inexplicably, my inhibition fell away as I contemplated the thought of being so completely exposed to this attractive, middle-aged woman. I dutifully turned over.

Janet maintained her professional demeanour at the sight of my engorged penis and said something like, “Don’t worry, that happens sometimes,” before using the stethoscope to listen to my abdomen. I was so focused on trying to will down my erection as I stared at the ceiling that I didn’t even hear the new set of footsteps coming down the corridor until Lori had once again barged into the exam room.

Mortified would not be an adequately strong adjective to describe my feelings at that moment. Lori’s reaction to seeing me naked on my back with my erect penis in plain view was less discreet than that of Janet: her eyes went visibly wide, and she had to stifle a little giggle. But she quickly regained her professional mien, handing the shipping voucher to Janet and remarking that she had verified the quantities delivered. While Janet scanned and signed the document, Lori gave me a friendly smile as if to comfort me, but which in fact had the opposite effect. After what seemed like an hour but was probably just a few seconds, she retrieved the document from Janet and left us alone in the exam room.

Janet finished her cursory examination and allowed me to get down from the table and put my clothes back on. As I was dressing, she confirmed that I appeared to have a mild sinus infection. She instructed me to take Tylenol to control the pain and to monitor my temperature every 3-4 hours.

“If the fever spikes or doesn’t subside by tomorrow morning, you should call back for an appointment with Dr. Walker, who will be back in the office. She’ll be able to prescribe some antibiotics.”

The checkout process with Lori was awkward, to say the least. She gave me another smile while handing me some insurance papers and repeated Janet’s instructions. I figured that she was imagining a rectal thermometer poking from between my cheeks as she mentioned the temperature part, which only deepened my shame. I was blushing profusely as I left Village Pediatrics and headed home.