I just dug the one my mom used out of the drawer to reply. I don't use this thermometer, but do have it from my mother's house. It was kept in the medicine cabinet in the original dark blue box with gold and dark blue lid, the words B-D Medical Center Fever Thermometer are printed in gold on the box top. Box is about 1/2" high, 2 inches wide and maybe 4.5 inches wide.
The thermometer is in a black plastic two-piece case, shaped like a pen, and it screws and unscrews. It goes from 94 to 108 degrees. I thought it was the original thermometer, but maybe it isn't because I see that Faichney USA is printed on it, not BD.
It has the snubnose mercury bulb, the degrees are printed in black, but It actually doesn't even say rectal on it. That may be why my mother saw fit to write the words "rectal thermometer" in big capital letters on a slip of paper and affix it to the black plastic case with scotch tape.
My mom kept it on my nightstand with the jar of Vaseline whenever I was sick or had a cold, and she used it 3 or 4 times a day it seemed if I was home from school, which I was too much, until I had my tonsils out---way too late at age 11 or 12. I didn't like it at all and found it humiliating, especially when all of my siblings, most of whom are more than 10 years older than me, would come visit me in my room if I was sick.
I'm sure they saw it, but I don't really recall them making fun of me, even though my mother usually took my temp or gave me medicine, an enema etc with the door wide open. I actually got the feeling my sibs felt compassionate or sorry for me and that made it a million times worse. And bc they were so much older, it seemed like my mom thought it fine to discuss my medical issues with them (and my aunt). I'd cringe hearing her discuss me in the kitchen down the hall, which is sometimes how I found out what was in store next. Oh, the woes of a change of life accident baby with depression era parents!
When they came in to see me I could never make eye contact if any medical evidence (disgusting green Fleet enema box or laxative on the dresser, Vaseline jar open, etc.) was around, which it always was. I'm sure this is why I play the way I do now mostly, as a compassionate but stern, I know what's best for you, poor little girl, way. I sort of hate my mother at times, which is why I also identify as a caring, kind daddy figure rather than a mother type, usually.