Pretty accurate. I hated going to the doctor enough that I would have to be REALLY sick to tell my mom. Staying home from school meant automatic doctor visit, it was a rule that seriously discouraged me from trying to play hooky. It was a long and quiet ride to the doctor and when we got there, the smell of alcohol, and the other kids with long faces made me really nervous. There was no question, I always got my temp taken rectally up to 12 and got a shot in the bottom up to 20! The nurse would appear at the door and call a name and I would get a twinge in my stomach every time until mine was called. Then the instruction to undress to my briefs was literally the first thing they said when we go to the room. The older I got the worse the embarrassment, I would hand my clothes to my mother, and then sit on the crinkly paper. The nurse would tap on the door and come in and take me down the hall in nothing but my underwear to be weighed. At young ages this was nothing, but as a preteen and teen, I felt virtually naked. More often than not, much younger kids would see you in just your underwear.
Arriving back at the room, I would watch to see if the door got closed all the way. Usually, it wasn’t. My blood pressure and pulse would be taken. Then it was “slide your undies down and on your tummy so we can get your temperature.” At young ages, I was ok with this because it didn’t hurt. But the older I got the more embarrassing this got. Like you, I wanted to protest and say no, but doing that meant: more of a fuss would be made drawing more attention to the situation. A spanking was almost assured if I pushed too far, and I wasn’t sure if mom would wait or do it right there, and more than that, I did NOT want a spanking. So all that considered I silently complied. Time would go slower, I would hear the clip clop of high heels, the typewriter, and adults talking in the hall. I hoped I would not get barged in on, but it did happen a couple of times. I would watch the nurse shake the thermometer and take out a tube of lube and put it on the top of the thermometer. Then feel the cool air as she spread my cheeks and then the cold glass sliding in. Like you, I felt totally insignificant. My bare butt with a thermometer stuck in it was the center of visual attention, but the nurse may engage in small talk. If I looked back I was admonished to “be still,” highlighting my insignificance even further. I wasn’t even allowed to see what was happening.
At older ages an erection almost always happened, without any mental stimulation at all. I would feel and sometimes even hear my penis growing against the crinkly paper. I was sure the nurse and my mom heard it too. My face would burn hot when this happened. Sometimes I would be encouraged with “almost done.” Then it came out with an embarrassing slurp. Leaving me to try to get my underwear in place without showing my erection. This always failed, and sometimes I was so hard I couldn’t get my briefs over the tip of my penis and it was sticking out. This was met with smirks from both the nurse and my mom but never mentioned. This was also a mind game because I wondered if this was normal, and if I was a freak. I was also totally humiliated by it. When I got old enough to switch to oral, it was a relief, but later in my teens, I started to miss it, and played doctor with a thermometer at home.
Once the doctor came in there was usually a short examination, some combination of looking in my eyes, ears, throat, listening to my heart and lungs, pushing around on my tummy, and sometimes even pulling my briefs down to look at my bottom or penis. This was very rare, though. The prescription was always a shot, either for what ailed me or a booster of some kind for school, and the doctor would ring the doorbell on his way out signaling I was ready for a shot. My mom would make me take my underwear off to be “ready” for the nurse at younger ages but some time around 9 or 10 while I was laying there nude a family walked with the receptionist. Whoops! She stood there apologizing to my mom (not me) while the little ones all stared at me laying there completely nude, no way to hide anything but my face. They left and after that I asked mom not to make me do that any more. At young ages I was really scared because it sting so bad I knew I would scream and cry. Then one time the nurse refused to give me the shot until I relaxed my butt, telling me it wouldn’t hurt if I just relaxed. I took lots of coaxing and an eternity of my mom and the nurse watching my butt and telling me “relax!” every time I clenched until she finally got the needle in my relaxed bottom. No pain at all, I was shocked and excited. No more worrying about shots. A couple of years later I asked if I could stand up instead of laying on my tummy with my briefs down. Another milestone to me, as I felt like I was growing up. All my shots went in my bottom, though, there was no choice. My mom refused to allow shots in the arm because I jerked my arm away once and it was a bad scene. I accepted it, as I remembered that scene too, and gladly took my shots in the bottom to avoid that happening again.
And now I love writing about it all and reliving it. I guess getting “butt attention” makes you feel special in a way, and it definitely left me with a lifelong impression.