It happened late yesterday afternoon . As I was driving (unplanned) past the medical building where my pediatrician had his office, I had a very unusual feeling overcome me. I saw that building from the interstate and remembered the anguish I used to feel every time my mom pulled into that parking lot, and all that I knew that would happened to me whenever we would go. It all came rushing back to me.As just a young boy, I could never sleep the night before when Mom would tell me we had an appointment the next day for my annual checkup. Not a wink. I would get myself so worked up knowing what would happen. First, I knew a painful shot (or two) was coming. That was near the end of the exam. After the doctor and nurse left the exam room, they closed the door behind them. The sliding door would then reopen, and in the nurse would walk with the syringe. She’d walk over, lay it on the movable little table, get a cotton ball, dampen it with alcohol, wipe the place on your arm, and then she’d reach for it. Almost like the preparation for a spanking, it was the same here. The smell and then that moment when that needle punctured the skin on your upper arm. Sheer trauma. As if that weren’t enough.But, it was the exam and some of the elements of the exam that caused me the greatest anguish. Of course, when we’d arrive, the nurse would escort Mom and me to the exam room. I was told to “bare my chest (remove my shirt), shoes and socks off, undo my belt and the button on my pants”. I always did as told with no questions asked. The nurse would then leave the room and I be sitting on the exam table in just pants and underpants but unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped. Mom knew how nerve-wracking this was and tried to make small talk but it didn’t matter. The sliding door would open and in would walk doctor and nurse. Some light conversation before he examined my eyes, ears, nose and throat. He’d place the tongue depressor in the back of my throat to test my gag reflex. I’d choke until my eyes watered.Then, he’d place the cold stethoscope on my chest, all over, near my nipples, on my back, trying to get me to relax. He’d put his hands on my throat and feel around. Then he would stop and I knew what would happen next. “Okay, I need for you to put your legs on the table, and lie back, and put your hand over your head for me.” With that the nurse would suppress my arms on the table and the doctor lowered my pants and underpants. “Lift your bottom for me, please“ as he lowered pants and underpants to my knees. There I laid on the table, no shoes or socks, and nude from my knees up, with the nurse holding my arms against the exam table as I laid on my back. My penis was exposed to the doctor, the nurse and my mom as my arms were being held down, as the doctor examined my genitalia. I think my arms were held down as a holdover from my toddler days when the doctor didn’t want any interference from my hands as he examined my penis and testicles. I can’t begin to express the humiliation that I felt at that time but there was absolutely nothing I could do but go along with it and do as I was told. The level of humiliation elevated as I entered puberty and adolescence and my body began to develop. The nurses were attractive in my doctor’s office and I could see where their eyes seemed to focus as I looked up from the table. I am embarrassed to say that now, at age 60, that whole scene and experience still arouses me like none other, and I still replay it in my mind frequently when I masturbate. And yesterday it all came rushing back to me, and I’ve been trying to sooth myself by masturbating once last night and twice already today.Does anyone else think that the exams you experienced as a young child and adolescent could have been a seed for the medical fetish you have today, and if so, would you be willing to share some of those experiences? Thank you.