People Are Recalling Their Most Embarrassing Trips to the Doctor

When I was in 7th grade, I had a kidney stone. I don't know how, but I did. It got suck in my kidney tube and I had to get it taken out surgically. They stuck a camera and tweezers and stuff up my dickhole, grabbed the stone, and pulled it out.

Luckily I was knocked out during this. I had a stent put in my kidney tube so it wouldn't inflame and stuff. Well, after that peeing hurt really, really badly because they scraped the inside of my dickhole or something and everytime I peed it was pure blood and stung like a motherfucker.

Anyway, because of this, I hated going to the bathroom (number 1 or number 2). I held it in as long as possible, and when I had to go I would pinch my skin somewhere so my dickhole would sting less. I read on the internet eating cheese made you consitpated, so I, of course, started eating a lot of cheese.

From string cheese, to blocks of cheddar, to slices of American, I ate cheese like a fiend. Eventually, I hadn't taken a shit for like 5 days. I thought I was going good. Then once, I was at a Boy Scout meeting teaching some Second Class scouts (it's a rank, I don't mean they were second class citizens or anything) how to tie knots when that familiar spot in my back started hurting.

I recognized it as the kidney tube and started freaking out thinking I had another kidney stone. I told my dad who immediately took me to the ER. I got put in an exam room, and the nurse took some X-rays and stuff.

Well, I didn't have another kidney stone, but because I hadn't shit in so long, my colon had become so enlarged with all the shit, it was pressing on my kidney tube that had the stent in it and was causing me all the pain. The proper course of action was an immediate water enema.

The nurse stuck the tube up my ass, let in a little hot water, told me to roll over, let in more water, told me to roll over again, let in more water, etc. Eventually, she told me to wait 30 minutes then go to the bathroom.

After 10 minutes I had the worst cramps of my entire life. I called the nurse in and told her it hurt so much and I couldn't hold it much longer. She said to hold it longer and left. About 5 minutes later I loosened my sphincter a little bit to fart, and the floodgates opened.

For what seemed like an eternity, shit just flowed out of my ass. Finally it stopped, and there was a little mountain of shit (there were peas in it, it was at that moment I learned peas were like corn and couldn't be digested) on the exam table, and it was leaking onto the floor and off the sides of the table and everything.

I called the nurse in, who opened the door and immediately started gagging because of the smell. She called my dad in who started gagging as well. After getting herself under control, she came back in with a mask and told me go to clean off.

I went to the toilet and even more shit started flowing out. I had to use almost all of the TP. This was before I learned about the all-magical courtesy flush. I ended up clogging up their toilet as well. I had no idea what to do so I just left and let it overflow.

I went back to the exam room and the smell was absolutely horrific. I apologized profusely and the nurse, being nice I'm sure, told me it was no big deal and it's happened many times before. I left with a completely clear colon and no more back pain. That was probably the worst two weeks of my life.

Username: AtHomeWithOwen

So maybe six months ago, I was making sexytime with my SO at the time. It was about 3am. I can't remember why, but neither of us had slept in like 24+ hours, I think it was summer at the time so we were on a pretty messed up schedule. Anyway, we were both at the point where you're just so tired you get a burst of energy.

We had been going at it for a good hour or so, when we decided to take a break and smoke a bowl. Light it up, good times. Near the end of the bowl, I start feeling a pain in my right nut, I joke to her "man I think I blue balled myself!" Laughs were had by all, then we started going at it again.

As we are in doggy, I realize that its starting to hurt each time my scrote slaps against her, and I kinda freak out. After some frantic googling, I come to the conclusion that I had twisted one of my testicles. Everything I read says "in some cases the testicle can be untwisted manually, but surgery is often required."

Keep in mind, i'm stoned as shit, delirious from lack of sleep, and now I just read that my little dangler might die if I don't get to the hospital NOW. I live with my parents, so I literally call my mommy, and we all proceed to the nearest hospital. My nut is starting to feel worse and worse by the minute as we are driving, so I am starting to freak out even more.

As a side note, I get super paranoid when I'm stoned in public, so imagine how awesome it was having to explain to 3 or 4 different people how I think my testicle is twisted around while being stoned out of my mind. Yeah, not at all awesome.

So they take me back to a room and we wait for what seems like an eternity. A nurse comes in to and says he is going to "give me some (mumble that I can't understand)" so I'm like yeah whatever. He sticks me with a needle and I immediately start feeling *really* weird, dizzy, hot losing my vision.

I start panicking, trying to remember what he said he was doing to me. I tell my mom that I feel really weird and dizzy, and lean back on the table while the nurse is checking my vitals or whatever. I'm pouring sweat at this point, convinced that I am about to die.

The only reason I didn't completely lose it is because my mom and SO were just chillin next to me, so I figured I can't really be dying, or hope at least. I ask my mom what is wrong with me, and I'll never forget how nonchalantly she just says "some people have reactions to needles sometimes..."

Almost the second those words leave her mouth I return completely back to normal and exclaim, "oh yeah thats probably what it is." Granted, I've never in my life had anything against needles, never got lightheaded from a shot, etc.

I think that fact that I didn't hear what the nurse said he was doing led my brain to just assume the worst and send me into full freak-out mode. That was damn embarrassing, because I straight up bursted into a full on cold-sweat in mere seconds, I'm sure the nurse got a kick out of it.

But the night is not over yet, after waiting for another few eternities, I get taken back into the ultrasound room. I drop trou and jump on the table, and the doc walks in and asks "so what were you up to tonight?" I confusedly respond "um, nothing much..."

He responds "no I mean, what brings you in tonight..." like I'm the biggest idiot in the world. I sure felt like it, too. Not quite as embarrassed about nearly fainting from a needle, but still pretty shitty. But the absolute worst, but also relieving, part of the night was that after an ultrasound, MRI, and about 4/5 hours, the doc finally came in and said they couldn't find anything out of the norm, and I was good to go.

Now, I really didn't want to have a twisted nut, but I felt like a giant douche for dragging my mom out of bed at 3am and not even getting proof that anything had actually happened to my poor little swinger. I concluded later that I must have had a minor twist that worked itself out on its own.

I really don't think it was all in my head, cause that shit really hurt, but no where near as bad as some people seemed to describe it. Pretty crappy night, but at least still have my boys, got some Jack in the Box and a pretty cool story out of it.

Username: Mattsw66

So virgin, fifteen-year-old me was taking a bubble bath in my foster parents' jacuzzi tub. The water jets get me a little... excited, so I start getting experimental. My foster mom had one of those tiny travel-size hotel shampoo bottles sitting on the side of the tub and I suddenly had the bright idea to try that out as a makeshift dildo of sorts.

Being a virgin, it was a tough battle trying to get it in there. I pushed and pushed and pushed and finally, felt a POP and a gush of blood and a whole lot of pain. I knew that was normal, so I didn't freak out, but the pain was enough to cut my experiment short.

Cut to two days later. I come home from school and notice that I'm still bleeding a fair amount and extremely sore. This is when I start panicking a little and think maybe I've fucked up my vajayjay beyond just popping my hymen. I'm getting these mental images of vagina infections and hysterectomies and infertility and generally just freaking myself the hell out. Finally, I give in and call my foster mom at work.

"Pam... I think I need to go to the doctor."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I'm... bleeding. Out of my... you-know-what. And I'm not on my period."
"Are you sure it's not your period?"
"I'm positive. It hurts really bad, too."

"loonyloveg00d... Did you have sex?"
"No! I'm a virgin."
"I need you to tell me the truth. You could be having a miscarriage right now."
"No! It's not a miscarriage! I haven't had sex! I... kind of... experimented. And I think I popped my cherry."
"Oh god... With what?"

Not wanting her to know the extent of my weirdness, I told her I used my fingers. Eventually, she stopped asking questions and told me she was on her way home.

The whole drive there, she's interrogating me yet again and telling me how masturbation is a sin and God will punish me for lusting. I asked her, "So you've never once masturbated? Never?"
"Nope," she replied with a self-righteous tone. "I didn't have to."

It was then I couldn't resist keeping my mouth shut. "Didn't you get pregnant with Michael (her oldest son) when you were sixteen?"
"Yes."
"And didn't you have an abortion when you were fifteen?"
"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with what you've done."

"So you're telling me that masturbation is wrong, but premarital sex and teenage pregnancy is okay?"
"I didn't say tha-"
"And don't you think if you'd have just masturbated, you wouldn't have ended up pregnant twice before you graduated high school?"
Yes, I was grounded for months after that. Yes, it was worth it.

So we end up at the ER, where there's this bored-looking lady with a clipboard standing at the entrance, at the front of the waiting room. When we approach her, she asks me why I need to see the doctor. I whisper extremely quietly, "Vaginal bleeding." She then repeats back to me, "VAGINAL BLEEDING?" in the loudest voice imaginable as everyone in the waiting room looks up to stare at me with "I'm judging you" written all over their faces.

Fairly quickly, we get called back to an examination room. They dress me in a paper gown and have me put my feet in the stirrups, my junk spread open for anyone who opens the door to see. Then the doctor comes whisking in and starts examining me after a brief introduction.

Right after that, a nurse comes in, leans over and whispers to him and he looks up at me and quickly says that there are some interns there that night and they're going to come in and observe, if that's okay. In my mildly comatose state of shame and embarrassment, I mumble something which they take as a yes and suddenly there are twelve people in the room staring at my vagina.

As I'm considering suicide, the doctor asks me how this happened. I tell him pretty much what I told my foster mom.
"I... got experimental and put my fingers in there."
"...How many fingers did you use?"
Not knowing how to answer that and still seem truthful, I just said, "...all of them?"

Suddenly, I knew I must have answered incorrectly because everyone's eyes went wide and I could tell half of them were shocked and the other half was trying not to laugh. So after this extreme period of torture, he told me the damage was normal and consistent with a punctured hymen and told me to just take it easy for the next couple of days. Of course, I never lived it down at home.

Username: loonyloveg00d

So, my girlfriend and I were fooling around one night. We were drunk, and she wanted some ass play... on me. I was game, so she proceeded to do various sexy things while using a small bullet-type vibrator on me rectally. Things were going great, and then I hear an "uh oh". I ask what's up, and she tells me that she can't find the vibrator, thinking she dropped it while doing said sexy things.

I immediately realize that I still feel the vibrator while she's looking around on the bed. I jumped up and went to the bathroom and in a drunken state realized that this is not going to be an easy fix. This thing is inside of me and still running. Worst part? it's on a random "sexy" pattern, so it's not a steady vibration, but rather a "buzz buzz buzz... buzzzzzzzz... buzz buzz" kind of deal.

So here I am, sitting on the toilet, hoping that I can push this thing out while it's buzzing away in my guts. Didn't happen. I immediately sobered up and had a choice to make. Wait until morning and hope that I can poop this thing out, or go to the emergency room in case there's a risk of infection or batteries rupturing inside of me or some other horrible alternative. I went to the emergency room.

The whole drive there, the entire time filling out paperwork, the entire wait to finally be called in, and it's "buzz buzz buzz... buzzzzzzzz... buzz buzz". I didn't even care about telling the receptionist that the reason I was there was to have a vibrator taken out of my ass. I wanted that thing out. Pronto.

Let me just say this: Based off this particular experience, early morning emergency room doctors and nurses are not shocked by anything you tell them. The male nurse I had proceeded to tell me about people coming in with way crazier things stuck in their asses (e.g., miniature shampoo bottles, kids toys, etc.).

The doctor I got seemed like she was out of an SNL skit. She proceeded to talk to me about my ass, and what we could do to rectify (yes, I went there) my situation. First, she had me turn on my side, and then used her gloved fingers to attempt to get up in there and get this thing out (which had thankfully run out of battery power by then).

This went on for a good 10 minutes, and she told me to wait and rest and she would try again. I proceeded to wait over two hours before anyone came back, and when someone did, it was the original nurse stopping in to tell me that the doctor had to attend to some other patients and would be back as soon as possible.

About an hour later, the doctor came back and she proceeds to stick her fingers up there again to attempt to pull it out. Again, no luck, and she says she'll be back again. Cue an hour later and she shows up with some forceps and proceeds to dig up in my ass again, and I could feel the metal on metal as she dug in there to try and pull it out.

Again, no luck, probably because I was clenching down like a motherfucker while she was doing all this. She informs me that we may need to schedule a surgery and leaves the room. I layed there for what seemed like an eternity freaking out and finally at 8am the normal day staff gets there and a new doctor comes in the room.

She gets an update of the situation, gets up in my ass with a forceps herself, tells me to stop clenching up, and gets that thing out of there. A new nurse is there too, who happens to be a cute girl in her 20's. She sticks around, asks me some questions before I leave, and smiles politely the whole time. It was beyond surreal.

This entire process took 6 hours, and my girlfriend was in the room the whole time and had a birds eye view up my hoo-ha while they were digging around in there trying to get out the vibrator she'd managed to wedge up there. We're engaged now and getting married in September, so, yeah.

Username: vibrator_mishap

A couple of years ago I developed chronic diarrhea. I don't know why but what used to be regular turned into "omg, I hope I make it to the restroom." I put up with it for well over a year before I realized that it was actually getting worse and not better and it was not going to get better on its own.

One reason that I avoided talking to my doctor about it was because I knew she'd send me off to the gastroenterologist and that he would likely want to do a colonoscopy. But at this point I was really sick and needed them to figure this out.

I work for the Chairman of an Anesthesiology department at a major university hospital and have been in my job for quite some time, so I know the docs and nurses around here pretty well. I show up in Dr. Prindiville's office (whom I adore) and he listens to everything I have to say and says yep, he's gonna take a look. He's gonna go both ways just in case, an endocopic exam of my gastrointestinal tract from the mouth and then the ol butt snake.

Now I had this vision of me running down the street in front of the hospital with hospital gown a flapping and the scope hanging out of my butt immediately pop into my mind...so I asked him about sedating me... no problem he said.

Fast forward to the day of the procedure. I'm prepped and ready. Feeling pretty anxious but I've given myself over to the fact that I'll be sedated and then it will be over. She gets the IV running and all is well. I drift off on a mixture of Versed, Fentanyl and Phenergryn.

The next thing I hear is "Honey, it's time for you to go..." So I sit up straight, open my eyes and look in horror at 4 people holding me down and yelling at me to stay still. I can see the look of fear in Dr. Prindiville's face and then I pass back out.

Then I feel a tap, tap, tap on my shoulder and hear the sweetest voice say, "Okay dear, It's time to leave." So I sit up and try to leave only to find that they're still holding me down and screaming at me...only now I can see people in the hallway as well.

Next thing I know one of my anesthesiologists is waking me up with an "I'm soooo sorry, we couldn't complete the procedure. You started fighting during the procedure and pulled the scope out of your throat.

You and the Doctor were fighting for the scope at one point so it was no longer safe to continue." I'm like, "WTF?! Put me under now, lets go for it now..." And she says, "sorry, we can't do that, you've had too many drugs to be able to give consent. You're going to have to have the procedure again under general anesthesia."

I told them not to touch me there. And of course as a result of having had an adverse reaction to conscious sedation, they put me under for everything now.

Username: kalyco

Oh God, where to begin. I'm sitting on my couch one lazy night back in March 2010, when suddenly, my balls start to hurt. Not horribly, more like a, ooh, really shouldn't have sat down like that, sort of hurt. So I 'readjust', relax and forget about it. About two hours later, the pain is still there. At this point, I'm about to lay down, so I figure I'll sleep it off and be fine in the morning.

Just as I'm going to pass out, my brain makes a connection. Sudden onset testical pain, pain isn't going away, no clear cause... Oh God... Oh God, no. My nuts are going to [fall off!](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Testicular_torsion)

So it's 3 am and I'm doing 65 in a 30 zone to get to the hospital. No jury in the world could convict me for this, I think. If I'm pulled over, I think I'd be back on the road with a police escort in seconds. You don't mess around with the twins.

The pain is slowly building and my mind is running over how I barely even got to know the ol' boys and they're already catching the express out of town. Well, God Damnit, I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I rocketed up to that ER door, decide I can't afford a ticket for leaving the car there, park, and limp up to the counter. My fear of openly discussing the ol balls and chain, surrounded by families and tired looking ER nurses, is placated by the fear of a schlop job on the jewels.

Can you be put on a sex offender registry for talking about your genitals in front of children? If so, I must have been walking a real fine line that night. Either way, my face is showing some very understandable concern, at this point.

The doctor is pretty concerned too. So concerned that I'm fast tracked through the ER waiting process, and within minutes someones hands are on my balls. Who's hands? Why, the 20 something Swedish supermodel that passes for an ER doc, of course.

Fear of losing my two best friends are blocked out by a sudden redistribution of blood. The one eyed sergeant has been a little lonely, lately, and now he's about to get a hug.

Winky Blinky lives in his own little world. He's sort of like a dog. To him, every day is a new adventure. Sometimes, he gets in the car, and it might be scary at first, but it leads to the park, and oh boy, is that ever fun! Well, Winky Blinky doesn't know it yet, but we just passed the fucking park. We're not going to the park. The park is closed.

I think he caught on right around when the doctor whipped out one of those plastic bags every piece of equipment in a hospital is sealed in. Inside, what looked like a very long syringe was waiting there, and I swear to God it was grinning at me. "You're next, bitch", it didn't say, but might as well have. It wasn't a syringe.

"Do you know what this is?" asked the Goddess in a way that, in literally any other instant, would have been awesome.
"A syringe?" I choke out.
"Nope!" she said, almost enjoying it as she slid a thin metal rod out of the plastic casing.

Here I am, standing there with my pants around my ankles, half an erection, throbbing pain, and sudden realization. My proverbial dog got out of the back seat and realized there's no grass around. There's no other dogs. This is the fucking vet.

The 'dog' beats a hasty retreat, but it's far, far too late. From my perspective, the metal rod is forced into me with the power of a Viking Warrior, and the tenderness of a Hornet who just found out I've been sleeping with his wife.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaim, in, once again, a way that would have been awesome in any other instance. The torture session lasted only a few seconds, but those seconds stretched into years in my mind. I nearly double over in surprise and pain as she removes the probe, and without a word, seals it up and heads for the door.

Just before she leaves, she turns back, points to the cup she'd left sitting on the other side of the room, and says, "We'll need a urine sample as well."

Username: Dabamanos

I was around 19 and dating this guy whose family had just moved into a fixer upper of a house. Being a helpful person, I go with him one day to help clean out the old stuff from the house and generally tidy up a bit. It’s a fair way from where I lived, so me and him took sleeping bags out there so we could spend the night and take the subway back in the morning. We smoke, we fool around, we sleep, go to our respective homes the next day, everything is fine.

A day or so later, I notice a painful bump. Down there. On my no-no area. Uh-oh. I’ve only been with two people, but the current guy has dated a LOT of girls, so my immediate thought is THIS FUCKER HAS GIVEN ME AN STD. I start full on panicking and make an appointment with my gyno.

While waiting for this appointment, this bump just gets bigger and bigger, and more and more painful. It gets to the point where I can’t walk or even stand without the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced (and I have broken several bones). So eventually I have to call and get the gyno to reschedule to an emergency appointment and I bounce from work to go.

This whole time, I have been super distant from this dude who really liked me- he’s texting me and calling every day and I have to just be like “sorry I’m just working overtime to save money, I’m too busy, blah blah blah” when in my head I’m panicking that I must have genital warts, or herpes, or AIDS, or some other awful STD that causes excruciating vagina sores.

I get to the doctor. She puts me in the stirrups. I’m crying soundless tears at this point because the pain is so bad. I’m like “just give it to me straight. Which STD is it?” She’s silent for a moment and goes “...I just need to ask my colleague to come in for a minute” and leaves the room. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. WHAT IS HAPPENING. What hellishly rare STD has this asshole given me?!

She comes back in with another (male) doctor who snaps on a pair of gloves, bends down, gives the bump a poke (to which I scream) and he says confidently “Oh, you’re fine: that’s a spider bite.”

I am gobsmacked. “Excuse me?” “Yeah, have you been camping recently?” “No... oh but I was helping my boyfriend clear out an old house...” “yep. You disturbed the spiders living there and one of them has clearly gone for a warm spot and bitten you. You’ll be fine, here’s a script for ointment and...” here my gyno sort of motions to my red, puffy, tear streaked face, “and some OxyContin. Feel better!” And this majestic man swoops from the room, never to be seen again.

I am so relieved I start sobbing. Actual full, wracking sobs. I’m getting dressed, crying my eyes out, whole body shaking. My gyno is sort of patting me on the back, there there, it will be okay, take one of the OxyContin and get into a warm bath and you’ll be right as rain. I go out to the desk to pay and check out, still absolutely wracked with sobs. Sobs of relief, of pain, of anger and annoyance. I can’t stop crying.

This very very posh woman sees me crying my heart out like my mom has died and the colour absolutely drains from her face. She comes up to me and puts her hand on my arm and is just like “I’m so sorry. I know what you’re going through.” I’m staring at her like has this woman gotten bit on her ladybits too? Is there a club? Will all women who have been bitten by spiders smack on the vulva be able to recognize me now?

Then it hits me: this woman clearly thinks I have cancer or some sort of terminal illness, as she looks at me with more compassion in her eyes I’ve ever seen. As this point I’m too mortified to tell her that no, I don’t have cancer, an arachnid just tried to go down on me, so I just nod and thank her, still sobbing, and make my way out of there before anyone else can offer me condolences or the name of their chemo nurse.

Username: AntiShansky

I had a stress test, basically a test that makes sure your heart works properly. You walk on a treadmill until your heart rate reaches a certain height, then JUMP onto an examination table to get an ultrasound on your heart while it’s still all pumped up.

This test is typically done on older adults with heart conditions, but I’d rapidly lost weight from an eating disorder and my treatment team was concerned about my heart. That said, I was 19 at the time and came to this cardiologist’s office alone wearing jeans and a shirt.

They gave me a gown to change into, but I had to remove ALL of the clothes from the top half of my body. I am well-endowed in the upper region and was nervous about the gown opening in the front, but nonetheless I held the gown closed and scurried across the hall to the room with the cardiologist and the nurse.

The cardiologist, an older man, sat at the ultrasound setup while a young female nurse got me ready at the treadmill. To get me ready for the stress test, they have to slather lubricant all over the left side of my chest so that it’s ready for the ultrasound. The nurse then awkwardly maneuvers around my chest to hook up a heart monitor, and I’m on my way.

So at this point, I’m walking on a treadmill at a steep incline, with the nurse and doctor just watching me and waiting for the right heart rate to strike. As I’m walking, I notice that my chest feels cold. I look down find that my gown is fully open and my titties are fully exposed to this nurse standing beside me and the doctor watching from the examination table. I am mortified.

The incline on the treadmill is so steep that I can’t let go of the handles to close my gown, so my boobs are openly moving and grooving in front of this nurse and doctor. There was no talking, just the sounds of me walking on the treadmill and my deafening embarrassment. I thought it would be over soon and I could stick it out. But it gets worse.

After what feels like seven centuries of flaunting my boobs for strangers while covered in lube, they realize my heart rate isn’t even close to where it needs to be for the ultrasound. (For background: I run and have a low resting heart rate so it’s difficult to get it very high). So they up the speed. Now I’m speed walking, boobs flapping away, my jeans getting sweaty.

With the increased speed and incline of the treadmill, it’s impossible for me to let go and close my gown. I decided I was ready to perish if this is what I had to do in order to have a healthy heart. The nurse and doctor, both CLEARLY trying to hide their own discomfort, realize my heart rate is still not even close.

Again, this test is usually done on older people with heart conditions, so a brisk walk is usually all it takes. They turned up the speed again, and though I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I knew I had to commit myself to jogging if I wanted the torture to end anytime soon. So I started. At this point, the nurse has attempted to gently close my gown several times, but my boobs were simply not having it.

I jog for several minutes, but my heart rate is still too low. I laugh a couple times to try and break the tension, but the nurse and doctor just...say nothing and watch. There was no choice. I had to sprint. The treadmill was turned up, and I began sprinting like my life depended on it, boobs flying. I held on for dear life, unable to do anything about my exposure without getting flung off the treadmill.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by only two sounds- my feet slamming against the treadmill, and my lubed-up boobs rising and falling against my body again and again for what felt like years. If you know what it sounds like to slap a pile bread dough, that was the exact sound coming from my upper body again and again. I reflected on all the life decisions that led me to this point.

Was I being punished? Here I was, making fully pornographic sounds with my boobs flapping in full view of two strangers who were as distraught as I was. I ran like this for ten minutes in complete silence this before my heart rate was as high as they needed it to be. After the ultrasound, I just...left as if I hadn’t shared that moment with the nurse and doctor. Also, my heart was perfectly fine.

Username: salaciousbdumb

This was only about a month or so ago so the pain and embarrassment sit fresh on my mantle. Bear with me here I have to give some context. So, I developed an external hemorrhoid last month. I've had one before so I knew I was in for a rough ride.

What I didn't anticipate was that the hair follicles around my "area" would also become angry and inflamed. It was a nightmare. I couldn't sleep, sitting and standing was like getting nailed in the bum with a metal cactus covered in acid. I figured that maybe I could just deal with it, after all one of my coworkers was on vacation and I had to cover for him and my doctor didn't have any openings that week or weekend.

A few days go by and I start to notice that I'm now having trouble peeing. It starts and stops. That goes into, I can't even get it going unless I stand there hunched over and even then it's a trickle.
But I stay calm and decide maybe it's time to seek medical care. So I go to a local walk in clinic since my doctors office is booked.

I walk in, as you do, and much to my relief the waiting area is empty as the receptionist says in an over loud voice "What's the issue?" I tell her and it feels like she screams it outloud as she repeated it back to me "YOU'RE HAVING TROUBLE PEEING?!" I confirm and explain a little more and she instructs me to sit and wait. Yes.

Sit in agony on those God awful hard plastic chairs and pretend it's nothing. Luckily as I'm the first person there I don't wait long. We go through the normal weighing, blood pressure check and the nurse starts asking me questions. Now, let me explain that it wasn't one nurse, it was two. I figured the other one was training.

Now that we are in the room I can explain my situation a little more comfortably. Despite the other....intern? Standing against the wall staring me down as I describe how I feel like my asshole is a gateway to hell and I can't piss. Then they stump me. They ask me to pee in a cup.

How? I just told you I can't pee and you want me to piss in a cup? Ok. I told her I would try. We go to the bathroom, she hands me the cup and I stand in there like an idiot for a solid five minutes before she comes and knocks on the door. I gave up. I told her it wasn't going to happen and we proceed back to the room.

She and her intern then tell me the Nurse practitioner will be with me shortly so I sit and wait. A knock on the door and she peeks her head in and says "please undress for the waist down and you can cover yourself with this." She hands me what looks like a stack of paper towels and leaves. Again I oblige and wait. Here's where the embarrassment begins and doesn't stop.

The NP comes in and she's not alone. No. She has the other two ladies in tow and they stand against the wall facing me. I'm ignoring them, answering the questions when the NP tells me to lay on my left side with my legs curled slightly. I freeze inside. Are the other two going to leave? Please? Nope. They stand there as I assume the fetal position, my entire raging anus exposed while the NP then proceeds to spread my cheeks and start poking around.

After what felt like an eternity of six pairs of eyes goggling my man cave she covers me up and I sit back up. Her advice, which she loudly declared, was to prescribe me something called a rectal rocket. I found out its a miniature buttplug made of lidocaine and some other medicines that you pop in before bed and let it melt. Then you wake up and toss the base of it in the trash.

Granted, it worked absolute wonders and everything got back to normal within a couple weeks. Except my dignity. That's why I'm sharing on a public online forum. Because whatever modicum of dignity I had, went away that day.

Username: Darktitan27

I go to the hospital once a year during the fall because I have had a recurring flare up of bronchitis since I was young. It was two years after high school and my parents had moved about 30 minutes away from my hometown so I just decided to go to the local hospital since it wasn't worth driving all the way back to my regular physicians office. Just a simple breath in breath out sort of thing and I'm in and out.

Anyways, I get to the hospital and things are really nice there. I was impressed, the place was bigger than the one I normally went to and it was cool to see. Anyhow, I get brought into a room and told to wait for the physician and I'm just sitting there twiddling my thumbs. And in walks an absolutely stunning brunette doctor, probably 30 years old at the oldest.

Now, let's just be clear. When you see an attractive woman you're excited. When you see an attractive woman and you already know she is intelligent because she's a god damned doctor you have just met your soul mate. When you see an attractive woman who is obviously intelligent and the first thing she says to you is, alright let's get that shirt off of you. You wish you had a diamond ring right then and there.

So we go through the whole check up, and I am suave mcsuaverston, except you know... More smooth than that name just now. Anyhow she finished checking me and took a seat and we started talking a little bit. She asked how long I've had the bronchitis and when I was headed off to school and just on/off-medical topic general questions.

Then it happened. You wouldn't think anything of it if it were you, I certainly didn't. She did though.
Her pager went off, and it was set for vibrate and it vibrated against the seat. I assumed it was a pager. For some reason she thought I would think she had a vibrator in her pants.
"It's not... It's just.. .I don't have a vibrator in my pants it is just my beeper!"

Now. This woman that you have been fantasizing about marrying and using all of the effort you have acting calm and cool in front of her has just put the image of a vibrator in her pants, or vibrating panties, or something of a sexual nature and everything you know about life and love and sexiness and fantasy has just been dismantled in front of you. I was in shock. I didn't know what to say, I chuckled, who the fuck chuckles? Luckily it wasn't like an awkward pause then chuckle it blended into the situation well but I was speechless. All of my creative ability, my tension breaking one-liners, my quick wit that I have developed over the course of my life; none of it prepared me for that.

She smiled at me, I smiled back at her and my brain was still in scumbag writer's block (best I can describe it) mode. She wrote the prescription for my Z-pack and handed it to me. "I'm so embarrassed, okay, you know what to do with this. Hope I see you soon, but, not too soon, have a good day." She was stumbling on her words, then she left to answer her page.

As I was walking out of the building the whole scene replayed in my head again except this time I came up with a witty line about people sometimes using pagers as vibrators. This scenario ended with me getting slapped. I went through a few more clever lines and each of them pretty much ended up with me getting slapped. It was like watching a porno play out in your head but all of the corny dialogue playing out how it would in real life. If ever there was a socially awesome/awkward penguin moment this was the epitome.

I think about going back there for no reason, just to get a check up from the hot doctor that I should have asked out then and there. She's probably married now, beautiful intelligent women don't last long in the wild. And now my chance at awesome successful hot doctor is gone. *Well let's be honest I probably never really had a chance*

Username: AbsurdWebLingo

This one happened while accompanying my wife and two daughters to the pediatrician's office. I stayed in the waiting area with my youngest while my wife took our oldest in the back to be seen, while the other daughter played and I thumbed a magazine. Enter a boy of maybe 8 to 10 years and I assume his grandma to the waiting room.

The boy parks himself in a chair the opposite end of the room, while grandma speaks to the attendant. He was looking poorly, green around the gills, glassy eyed, and a little sweaty. As a parent I really felt for the kid, you could tell he was SICK. As the sound of soft muzak played I found myself ill-prepared for what was soon to come.

The boy had been lethargic and slightly snoozing while grandma filled out his paperwork. He suddenly sneezed. the sudden movement caught my eye and I looked up from my magazine just in time to witness a second sneeze. I pause here a moment, to elaborate on the waiting room chairs in this office. They were of the style of vintage hard plastic sort of an eggshell design. intended not to cushion but rather to cup the buttocks.

I also assume the design was chosen because they would be easier to clean and disinfect than a clothed cushion design. The intelligent choice of design was immediately apparent with what followed that second sneeze. A third sneeze, as often, was a lot stronger than the proceeding two. Strong enough in fact that a momentary lapse in bowel control that sometimes out-squeaks a held in fart.

But I am sure we all know that when you are sick, farts cannot under any circumstances, be trusted as they are quite often liquid instead of gas. This boy was finding this out quite possibly for the first time. He pooped, the resounding force as well as magnitude was impressive. The angle at which he was sitting in combination with the chair forced his evacuating bowels both down one leg of his sweatpants into his boot as well as up his back out his collar into an artful fan spray on the wall behind.

It was just one loud pop and spray action, almost artful if it had not been so gross. the boy immediately began crying, his grandma began to console him as well as contemplating her next move on how to clean the mess. The smell hit her first, eyes closed as she stifled a gag with a cough. And then again. By this time I was alerting the attendant the desk we needed a cleanup crew post haste.

Of course my potty-training 3 yr old was struggling to make sense of this with her quips of "him pooped poppa", "him go potty poop in him's pants", "him's got poop in him's hair poppa". I am struggling to keep her quiet and keep myself from bursting into laughter at the humor/horror of the situation. About this time the smell hits me, and its not even remotely funny any more.

The attendant enters with a bucket & towels and other such items and you see her hesitate, clearly she was under-prepared mentally for this. And right then, wave number two hits the boy who was standing at this point. His whole body convulses as he evacuates his bowel filling his other pant leg. Grandma has to turn away.

The boy projectile vomits a Fibonacci arc streaming a good 5 to 7 feet continuing with subsequently smaller arcs with each additional wretch. Eventually the attendant has my daughter and I join my wife and other daughter in the back while they clean up. On subsequent visits we never sit near that seat, and we KNOW why the wall behind that seat is a slightly different shade of white.

Username: [deleted]

I was born with a condition called “hypospadias” - don’t Google it - which is an umbrella term for men who are born with a hole in their dick, kinda like a second pee-hole. They can be anywhere, from the base to the back of the head.

My condition was not as severe or traumatic as it could have been. Basically, my urethral opening didn’t fully form and I was born without a frenulum (that line down the front/underside of the dickhead; the place that the foreskin connects to and where the two lips of the head meet). My dick was just open on the head where that would be, about the size of a dime.

I had was circumcised shortly after this was discovered and the skin was used to patch up the “hole”. Pretty much everyone in my family who knew about this issue of mine didn’t tell me and assumed that it was taken care of.

Not only did I absolutely know there was something wrong with me, the surgery was a failure. but since no one told me about it and assumed it was taken care of, I had to figure all of this out on my own (I hit puberty very early and my surgeon later told me that basically the work they did ‘came undone’ when I began maturing.) Around the age of 14, when I was considering being sexually actively, I brought the subject of my genitalia up with my parents who were mortified and scheduled me a consultation.

The first doctor visit I chickened out. My mom took me to a doctor to be examined who then asked me if I wanted to be scheduled for a surgery, and that my condition was not only rare, but easily fixed and urologists were in no shortage so I wouldn’t be waiting very long.

I said I’d have to think about it (no 14 year old wants to be circumcised again, and I was scared/ questioning if I was fine the way I was). My mother was LIVID and screamed at me in the parking lot for wasting her time and making he take a day off work. That actually hurt my feelings a lot, but I’ve never really addressed that with her.

Shortly after I returned to my parents and said I’d changed my mind. I wanted it done. The surgery was performed very shortly after this, and was a huge success - however inwas going under at a teaching hospital, so a room full of interns just like Greys Anatomy season 1 basically observed my entire surgery and watched the surgeon install AND remove the cathedar. When the tube was removed I ejaculated a huge shot of blood. In a room of like 30 people.

I was told not to touch myself or anything for six weeks. Lol. Imagine telling a 15 year old boy not to masturbate. I think I made it 3 weeks, and it was AMAZING. But the next day I couldn’t walk for 48 hours or pee without screaming, and my surgeon called me personally to SCREAM at me over the phone and literally said “you think you know pain? You don’t know SHIT little boy! If you fuck up my work, and come back to me, you won’t have much of a dick left to touch, now HANDS OFF. Fuck!”

Username: josiahpapaya

OP since my story also ended with poo on the floor of a doctor's office I'll go with that one first. The second one I don't feel safe typing at work and will have to wait for another time.

When I was about 8 or 9 I had a weird sinus problem that basically involved an endless stream of snot leaking down the back of my throat. Before I was referred onto the Ear Nose Throat guy my doctor wanted to take some tests one of which included a stool sample.

So I get the little cup with the yellow lid but looking at it I really had no idea how my poo was meant to get inside, and so after consulting my mother about the situation she explained that I needed to use the small shovel like apparatus attached to the bottom of the lid to scoop a bit of poo up and drop it in the container.

I remember being too embarrassed or whatever to ask my mum how exactly I would get the poo out of the toilet to scoop it in, so instead of asking any further questions I devised a plan on my own.

When I had the urge to go I decided I would go to the toilet as normal, except I would aim the poo so that it would land on the porcelain incline of the bowl before reaching the water. That way it would be easily accessible to scoop up and place in the toilet.

This is where my plan went sour. Holding the scoopy shovel thing in one hand I put the container down on the toilet seat ready to take the bit of poop I planned to section off. Unfortunately I wasn't the most co-ordinated of children and while concentrating so hard on getting the exact right amount of poo I knocked the container into the toilet with my leg, and it fell into the water which was populated with a number of fairly large turds I had not planned on using for extraction.

As quickly as I could I grabbed the container out of the toilet and screwed the poo-scoop lid on, and then popped it in the ziplock bag I had close by. Needless to say there was shit all over everything in the bag and on my hands and all over the inside of the toilet bowl which I'm pretty sure I left for my mum to clean after flushing.

When I went back to see my GP he asked me for the stool sample. For some reason I cannot explain, I decided I would remove the container from the ziplock bag and just give it straight to him, why would he need the bag anyway? My doctor looked a little unsure but instead of telling me just to hand over the bag he took the container in his bare hand and he must have straight away touched a bit of poo because it caused him to flinch, dropping the container on the ground.

In my haste, not only had I not managed to contain the shit strictly inside the apparatus, but I had also failed to screw the lid on properly. The container came apart and like a knife dipped in peanut butter the poo shovel sat there on the floor exposed and smelly, and while not much of the waste material was actually touching the floor, I always felt uncomfortable every time I had to see that GP, up until I was old enough to change to a different one.

Username: pretty_annoying_tbh

When I was a freshman in high school, I had the *biggest* crush (and when I say that, I mean full-on pre-pubescent infatuation kinda crush) on this girl in one of my classes. We'll call her Amy. We talked a little bit, our conversation mostly being along the lines of an awkward "hi" and "hello" every once in a while. We did share one big thing in common though: we both played baseball.

One thing you should know is I was really fucking into baseball at this age. I wanted to be a pro someday, and the fact that this girl played, for whatever reason, was a huge turn-on. Anyway, a couple of months before each season we were all required to get a physical.

Now, my mom's union insurance required us to see a doctor that was in one town over, so when I got there I hardly expected to see anyone I knew. It seemed like a usual physical: the regular ears/eyes/throat check, heart and lungs, reflexes, etc. Then came the urine test.

The odd thing about this doctor's office is that the restroom for the urine test was on the other side of the lobby. He hands me the cup, and I kind of hide the cup under my arm and make my way to the lobby. I had to piss like a pregnant lady so I fucking filled that cup almost to the brim. I look around for a slot to place the cup in, but *surprise*, there is no slot. I have to carry the cup o' pee back to the exam room.

I carefully put the lid on the cup, open the door, and head into the lobby. I'm almost back to the exam room when I hear a familiar "hey, im_a_photomosaic!" which startles me, makes me jerk quickly around, and right as Amy gets into my view I stumble into a kid that happened to be running by me at that exact moment.

The exact feeling of fear, anxiety, remorse, embarrassment, and even suicidal tendencies that I felt at that moment, as my cup of urine fell out of my hand, onto the floor, and splattered all over my legs and those of the kid running by, is something that I highly doubt I'll ever feel again.

To this day, if I'm in bed trying to sleep and my evil brain conjures up embarrassing moments from my past, this one is always in the forefront. Luckily, she was cool enough not to tell anyone at school about what happened. After that, though, I didn't have the balls to talk to her again for a while.

Turns out we went to the same college though, ended up having an on-and-off friends with benefits relationship for a while. So I guess... DM;HS.

Username: im_a_photomosaic

Few years ago I went to the Dr. thinking that I had bruised my tailbone or something in a ski crash. I was home on leave for the x-mas holidays with the family, and I couldn't take the pain anymore. I go to the ER because it's like my first time ever going to the hospital, ever. I was 23 at the time.

So I go in there and it's awkward as hell. I tell them whats going on and how it hurts to sit in certain positions, and they tell me to drop trou and they have a peek down there. The dude starts poking around down there, and breaks out the KY and the glove and just like the OP he goes a couple knuckles deep, proceeds to find the cyst in my ass and starts squeezing it like a grape. I'm death gripping the bed because I'm pretty whacked out about having someone doing what he's doing down there. Then he tells me the good news - they've got to drain it.

He goes out of the room for a few minutes, and tells me to put on one of those super sweet open-assed hospital gowns. Comes back in with an older female nurse / anesthesiologist or whatever she was, and injects me with latacane. That stuff burns like hot lava when they inject it into your asshole region, not very pleasant at all.

After they get me all good and what they think is numbed up they start cutting away like an inch above my butthole. No matter how much stuff they gave me it still hurt, something about your butthole region having an extremely high concentration of nerve endings... Sweet. They get the thing drained and I'm wicked pumped to be getting out of there.

Two days later the thing is still hurting like a mofo. So I go back in there prepared for the worst. Whole butthole burning, cutting process has me pretty much ripping the frame off the bed, and this time they have the bright idea to drain it with me laying face down on the bed.

The first time I was on my side so it just kind of leaked out onto the bed (sorry for the visual...). So this time I'm laying face down, and he goes 2 knuckles deep this time and really squeezes the fuck out of it. I felt the thing pop like the biggest zit ever, and it conveniently drained all over my man-parts.

I have the old nurse lady trying her best to "clean me up" and starts like rubbing my package with a towel. I am allowed to get up to clean myself off and it looks like someone got stabbed or something with how much fluids were on the bed. I wipe an incredible amount of stuff off myself with their gown, and gtfo.

Username: hodarii

My P was originally too bent for normal everyday insertion, so I got a trip to the urologist. I've brought a printed out dickpic (it was the mid 2000's we didn't have good cameraphones yet) with the angle drawn in with photoshop, and the doc kinda freaked out (in a positive way); He called two colleagues right in to show them that patients should come in like this in the first place.

Also asked if he can inculde my dickpic in a learning material on the university. Anyway, standard procedure demands the doc to make his own measurements and take a professional dickpic, but of course, there's not much to be turned on by in a doctor's office.

So, you get a prescription for an injection that will make you hard, no matter what. I was there with my dad, so we went down to the pharmacy, to buy that injection. When tha pharmacist told the price, dad was a bit shocked, and said "But it ain't for me, it'll be for the kid!" (dad was already over 50 and I was a wimpy 18yrs kid). (somehow, it wasn't embarassing, dad's cool, I was trying to hold my laughter back)

Anyway, we go back, sit down in the waiting room, a nurse zooms by, and dad nudges me, then whispers: "Shoulda gave this gal a few bucks to get you going, must've been cheaper"

Then I go in, get my P jabbed and they leave me there in the dressing room for the injection to take effect. After like 10 mins, the nurse comes in asking "Well, anything?" and I say "Uhm.. yeah, ther's somehing... I guess" It wasn't that mjolnir-type erection, but I tought, that it's the most that this injection can do.

Anyway, I lay down on the inspection table, two doctors are trying to keep my P straight while a third one is trying to take a photo. Then a fourth comes in with like 10 students, and starts to examine me (like kids play with silly putty) and encourages tha students to try to feel out various parts of my P. (thankfully, they were shy to try)

Later, we exit the office and I suddenly feel it; "Dad... that shit they gave me... it just kicked in. Like for good." "Son. Be careful with the elevator door". That erection lasted for like 6 hours, and it hurt like hell in the last hour.

Username: wilika

Oye this one was meant for me. Recently I started taking editables to help me sleep. I don’t take them daily, only about 2-3 times a week. So I took a ride out to the Native reservation that sells the good shit. Usually I get a Wonka bar, but since it was near Christmas I figured I’d switch things up and get one that’s called a Chungable.

So on Christmas Eve my husband and I were settling in to relax and watch some TV (we’re in our 30s and have no children so we were just chilling). I took what I thought was a small enough piece. About an hour later I wasn’t feeling anything so I took another small piece. See that’s where I fucked up. Another hour passes and I’m absolutely toasted. My eyes are darting back and forth uncontrollably, my heart is racing, I legitimately cannot stand up, the works.

I want to fall asleep but I have this wild feeling like if I slept I’d be taken to “the dark side” (I don’t even know what the dark side is). I lose my shit and demand my husband take me to the ER. He’s more sensible and tries to talk me out of it but all I remember screaming is MY LEGS DON’T WORK I HAVE TO GO OR I’LL GO TO THE DARK SIDE.

So he helps me outside in my fluffy hippo slippers in the NY winter and into the truck. The hospital is about 2-3 miles from our house but in that time frame I vomited 3xs in my mask and almost punched out our window. We roll up to the ER, hand the keys to the valet and he loads me into a wheelchair.

The next thing I remember is being at the registration desk and when they asked me what happened I pulled down my mask, spilling the vomit all over my shirt, and yelled edible. My husband calmly explains that I took an edible and was freaking out. The next thing I know I’m on the floor in an exam room screaming to let me sleep and swinging at the attendees trying to help me into a bed.

I remember my husband trying to calm me down and then kicking him out of the room. During all of this chaos I stopped dead and told one of the nurses I loved her hair, then continued to fight. I black out again and wake up what feels like days later with an IV in my arm to a nurse trying to get me to urine in a bedpan.

Naturally I don’t like this idea so they start to talk about putting in a catheter, my husband starts pleading with me to use the pan, so I do, and fall back asleep. The next time I wake up I’m more with it than I had been, I turn to my husband and apologize, he laughs and says I don’t have to apologize to him, I have to apologize to the people I attacked. He fills me in and I am mortified. He thinks it’s hilarious.

I contemplate just getting up and waking out when a nurse comes in. You guessed it, it’s the hair nurse. She says she’s glad I’m feeling better, and that I love her hair. She tells me I didn’t hurt anyone in my struggle and that I gave them a Christmas story to tell for years to come in the ER.

All of the tests they ran naturally came back negative and they let me leave. With puke on my shirt and my now ruined hippo slippers. My husband calls it the chungable incident. I told the guy at the Reservation that the chungable got me, he says they get a lot of crazy chungable stories but none as good as mine.

Username: sunnysam306

Alright. So when I started working at the office about...ehhhh four years back now...I took my love of coffee to new heights. I was drinking the stuff all the time from 8:30 to...whenever I got off. Maybe about six cups a day, five days a week.

I wound up with a pretty nasty UTI, which is something I hadn't had before. The OTC drugs didn't touch it (indeed, all it did was stain my piss a vibrant orange, which was extremely embarrassing...guys will recognize the "post-tuck drip," so imagine that but highlighter orange, which has now stained your pants), so I scheduled an appointment with urgent care.

Now, obviously, I knew the doctor was going to need to take a look at the goods, so to speak, so I'm mentally preparing myself. Got the standard shitty jokes ready to go, in the headspace...let's do this. Doctor turns out to be an elderly Vietnamese man who was having exactly none of my shit. Doctor walks in. Doesn't say hi, doesn't give me a "Hi I'm Dr. Whatever." Nope.

Dude walks in and, in the thickest Vietnamese accent I have ever heard, briskly near-shouts "SHOW ME YOUR PENIS." I studied for the test. I did not, however, study for this. "I'm...uh...excuse me?"
"PENIS. SHOW ME PENIS."

So, out comes the old twig and berries. Doctor's AGGRESSIVELY checking out the package, kinda like a Postal Service employee a week from retirement. Following this manhandling of the manmeat, I got this, as close to accurate as I can reproduce:

"YOUR PENIS, FINE. BLADDER AND KIDNEY GOOD. YOU HAVE UTI. YOUR URETHRA INFLAMED."
Doctor proceeds to pause and very quickly draw a dick on the back of a piece of paper (admittedly, rather flattering in terms of proportions so...thanks Doc).

THAT (outlining interior tube on drawing) URETHRA. IT CARRY URINE. INFLAMED. SWOLLEN. MAYBE SOMETHING IN, MAYBE DIET. NO MATTER. I PRESCRIBE . YOU TAKE, YOU WAIT, YOU COME BACK IF PROBLEM. QUESTION?"

"I...uh...no sir. Than-"
"THANK YOU BYE."
And just like that he was gone, like a dream upon waking. This entire exchange, from door opening to THANK YOU BYE was no more than five minutes.

I mean in all fairness, the stuff he prescribed knocked it out in a matter of days, and his explanation of the issue, while lacking a certain bedside manner, was dead on accurate. And by no means am I ragging on the guy for having a thick accent; that's not his fault. His presentation was just...something.

Username: Reaper0329

Alright, story time. I was 14 years old. One night I made out with my girlfriend for a long while and we got mildly sexual. Stuck my hand down her pants (I’d never done that before). But we didn’t go further than that and I went home without having an orgasm.

I have an extremely active libido, so when I was 14 it was insane. I was so aroused by touching lady bits for the first time, that when I got blue balls later that night I literally felt sick to my stomach. There was a massive lump in my testicles and it felt like a quarterback kicked me between the legs each time I moved.

I try to play it cool, but the next day I can’t take it anymore. I’m in absolute agony and it’s not going away. So my first stage of humiliation is that I have to tell my mom. I don’t explain what happened, I just tell her that I have some pain “down there”.

She takes me to the doctor, and we’re taken to an examination room. The doctor was an attractive woman probably in her 30’s, which was just about the last thing I would have wanted at that moment. I explain the pain I’m having, and she tells me she has to examine me. Because I’m underage my mom has to stay in the room, but thankfully she turns around while the doctor performs the examination.

So she starts feeling my testicles, and even though I’m in tremendous pain, my 14 year old hormones kick in. I fight with every fiber of my being to avoid an erection, but even still, it began to twitch and harden a bit. She looks at me, smirks, and gives a reassuring smile to signal that it’s okay. I’d never felt more exposed or humiliated in my entire life.

I can’t remember what she said afterwards, but I know that I was referred to the fucking hospital - that’s how bad these blue balls were you guys. So I’m sitting in a room at the hospital, in a gown, and the doctor walks in. Thankfully it’s a dude, so no erection issues to worry about now, but the problem is that he’s got a group of med students with him.

So I’ve got a crowd of like 7 or so people all staring at my genitals, which are engorged due to a backup of semen. I know they know. They know they know. They know I know they know.

And yet I can’t do anything but lie there and let them look on as the doctor moves around my testicles with his fingers, explaining to the students all the particularities of my condition and how unusual it is. Words cannot describe the feeling.

Username: tenaciousDaniel

I had a huge lipoma (benign mass/lump) on my back shoulder blade. Had it for years and it grew slowly. Being an idiot I waited to see a doctor about it because I was scared of what else it could be, but it wasn't painful and the growth rate was so slow I was fairly confident in my armchair expertise that it wasn't anything to worry about.

Anyway, it eventually gets to be big enough that sitting with my back against anything becomes painful, so I finally go to have it checked out. Doctor examines it and determines it's a lipoma, and right then and there offers to drain it. Well, sure that would be great! I'm on my stomach and he and a student (it's a teaching office) are in there with full body suits and gloves, open it up a little and they're squeezing it. Like HARD.

Next thing I hear is a loud "Pop" and I mean it was seriously like Mt. Vesuvius in there. There was greyish/green chunky slimy stuff that went EVERYWHERE. On the walls, on them, on me, a large chunk landed near my face. I swear to God to this day I've never smelled anything more rancid in my life.

It was like death/decay. Their walls probably had to be scrubbed and the pictures they had hanging in there...my god they had pictures made by children that they hung up in there...they probably had to torch those. It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen.

I felt so embarrassed mostly for the student that was there observing/assisting. Especially because she happened to be attractive which made it more uncomfortable for me. I feel like if that didn't steer her away from medicine then she'd have a great future ahead of her.

The worst part after that was, they didn't even really gauze me up. The nurse gave me some gauze and some poorly adhesive tape (I have a really hairy back so no tape is going to stick) for what is essentially an open and oozing wound. I drove home feeling my upper back being wet through the gauze so I had to stop and buy a ton of stuff like extra gauze, extra large bandaids, etc.

Shaved my back, and had to keep apply new gauze every couple of hours for days, and then once a day for weeks, before it finally sealed up for good. Anyway, still worth it because the relief was immediate and the lump still hasn't returned a few years later.

Username: [deleted]

Went to the doctor for a check up. A beautiful asian woman walks in and says, "Hi, I'm Dr. So and So". I immediately tense up because this sexy asian woman is about to fondle my junk just to tell me everything is ok. I say, "Oh, hello, I usually see Dr. S for this type of stuff." She says, "Oh, he's out for the day. I'm taking his patients."

At this point, I can feel my dick shriveling up inside me. Of all the times I wanted to impress a lady, now was that time. I couldn't perfom, sadly. I pulled my pants down and there hung my dick, looking like a tube sock flapping in the wind.

She says, "Ok, let's get to this." I do the normal routine of looking to the left and coughing, and she said everything looked fine. Here's the kicker: it was prostate exam time. I didn't realize I would be getting one that day.

So, I bend over. She lubes up her fingers and sticks them inside of me and checks. As she was checking, I say aloud "Man, this is like a dream come true!" She immediately stops what she's doing and looks at me and says, "Excuse me?" I tense up and nearly crush her fingers with my asshole so she has to pull them out. I said, "Oh, nothing. I was just joking!" She says, "Oh, ok," and then laughs a little.

As things got less awkward afterwards (I still don't know why I said that), we begin to hit it off. I say, "Hey, since you're just my doctor for the day, would it be rude of me to ask you for your number? Maybe grab some coffee sometime?" She says, "Oh, that sounds great! I'll write it down for you." I think to myself, "AWWWWW YEAAAAHHHH".

So, she writes her number down and gives it to me. She folds it before she hands it to me, so I don't open it up because I don't want to seem to eager. She tells me everything checks out fine and that next time I'm in I'll be seeing my normal doctor and that I was a great patient. She leaves the room and I pull my pants up.

Then I casually make my exit, feeling like the most powerful man in the world. I get to my car and I reach into my pocket, pull out the folded up piece of paper and stare at the number. It says, "Can't see patients, but you can always reach me at 911".

Username: Johnstantine

At the end of December of 2019 right before Christmas and before Covid I had gotten really sick. I was substitute teaching at a high school and one day I started to feel awful. My head was throbbing so bad it felt like someone bit me right on my head with a sledgehammer.

Then I started feeling the body aches slowly getting worse as the day was going. And I had a slight tickle in my throat when I talked and drank water. When I got off work my boyfriend was waiting for me in the parking lot and I didn’t think I was going to make it to the car. I got in and looked at him and said I didn’t feel good.

On our way home I passed out. He had to carry me in the apartment. Didn’t wake up till later on in the middle of the night and I couldn’t move or get out of bed. My whole body felt like I had gotten hit by a train. And I remember crying myself back to sleep. When it was morning my boyfriend made an appointment for me to go to my doctor and when we got there I was sure I had step throat.

I had it about a year before and it felt the same just worse. They tested me for strep and the flu and both came back negative. My doctor was stumped and told me she didn’t know what was wrong with me so she was just going to prescribe me antibiotics and give me a steroid shot. Never had one before so I started to roll up my sleeve and she was like, “oh no honey, not there.”

I looked at her confused and my boyfriend just started giggling and then she told me to stand up and drop my pants. I was like no way, In my butt cheek?? Me and my boyfriend had only been dating for 3 months at this point and I felt so embarrassed and uncomfortable. So I figured okay just a quick little shot. Pulled my pants down and leaned against the table. She jabbed that little needle in my behind and when the shot went in I fell off the table almost immediately.

It was probably a freak experience but it felt like my bottom was stabbed with a red hot poker (Had another steroid shot about a year later for an upper respiratory infection and didn’t have the same experience thankfully). So here I am, face down, ass up on the floor with a knot swelling on my forehead and a needle sticking out of my butt cheek. Most embarrassing moment of my life.

Username: CollectionTricky3434

Not the doctor's exactly, but the pharmacy. I had recently gotten new insurance the first time I went to the pharmacy after the switch, my insurance initially failed to go through. My usual pharmacist tried to call my insurance but after a while gave up and told me she'd just done a workaround so I could get my prescription and go, and she'd have a tech sort it out later.

The next time I come in I'd pretty much forgotten about that incident, but once again my prescription didn't go through. The tech asked me to verify my name and whatnot, and then asked me my sex, which is female.

Then she brought someone else over who asked the same thing, but then more pointedly followed up by asking if that was my biological sex or my preferred sexual identity? Biological. They bring in someone else who gets even more specific, asking me if I've changed my sexual identity recently.

Obviously a weird line of questioning, and they kept whispering to themselves and looking over at me, so I was like... do I look like a man? Do I look SO much like a man that they don't even believe I'm a woman?

Fortunately after much discomfort, my regular pharmacist comes in from her lunch break and clears it all up. Apparently at my last visit when my insurance hadn't gone through, it was because my new insurance incorrectly listed me as male.

It was preventing my prescription from going through because it didn't match up between the systems. So to make it go through she just changed my sex to male in the pharmacy system so she could get me the prescription. She had left a note in my account "sex changed, but need to change it back, having lots of issues."

I later learned that when my employer sent over the employee list, they were accidentally *all* entered as male, and then it was noticed and corrected a few days later.

At this point my insurance says I'm female, the pharmacy notes say I'm male, and they have a weird note that they think says I've had a sex change but I need to change it back. So they were trying to figure out how to tactfully figure out what they should have listed in the system without upsetting me because I'm having lots of issues.

Username: justimpolite

I was 17 and wrote "Hello" on my penis with sharpie before the appointment, because the doctor was my family physician, and I thought it would be funny. Then I rode my bike to his office, forgetting that it was August and hot out.

I got into the exam room and went to put on the gown and discovered that my sweat spread the sharpie all over my junk from my thighs to my waistband. I used some cotton swabs and paper towels, but I had to give up, because I just kept getting sharpie on the sink and counter, and the pile of black cotton swabs in the trash was disgusting. Not only did that not help, but removing the excess just made my dick look like it was dead and starting to rot instead of having something on it.

The doctor comes in and we go through the whole exam. He noticed an elevated heartrate, so I just told him I rode my bike there. We get to the turn and cough part, and I hesitated. I took a deep breath and explained to the man what just happened.

He just sat there unperturbed having been a physician for 15 years at this point. He knew I was a bit of a handful as a kid since he is the one who stitched me up several times as a child. I also had dropped this gem on him during my last exam "You're my dad's doctor, and he's 50.

You've definitely put your finger in my dad's butt. I'm pretty sure you're also my minister's doctor, too, and he's like 60." because I was one of those people who always thinks everything they say is funny even when it was totally inappropriate(lifelong project to fix that).

"Alright, well let's see the damage" he says, completely unphased by this. I pull my pants down, and his composure cracks instantly. He is laughing so hard he's got tears in his eyes. He apologizes and shakes his head then proceeds to try to give me the exam with barely contained laughter.

He did make so to clarify that he was bound by his oath not to share this, because 17 year old me was convinced a bunch of doctors and their dentist friends would be laughing hysterically in a cigar smoke filled room with many hardwood pieces of furniture. That was not the last time someone would handle my wiener while laughing at it.

Username: [deleted]

This was back when I still lived in Africa. I was about 8 years old and i had gone to visit my cousin. So for some odd reason, whenever i went to their house and i ate something, i would always get sick. This time around i ended up with diarrhea, and like all diarrhea, it's not really pretty.

During my stay there i had to go to a clinic (i used to get terrible headaches, still do.) anyway so my aunt decided to get me checked out as well. When we got there, the doctor took me into his office and did some routine check-ups i guess. He stepped out for a while, had my aunt come in and tell me i was going to get a couple shots. I was obviously uneasy about this, my stomach started churning and i could feel something coming. I told her that i didn't want anything, but she bribed me with sweets and shit, so i agreed to the shots.

So i was going to get two shots, one in my arm, and the other in my butt. He did the arm first, then he said something like "turn around, it's time to take it in the butt." During this whole time from when my aunt told me, to when he gave me the first shot my stomach was growling, and all this other stuff. As soon as he said "take it in the butt," everything stopped, like the calm before the storm.

So i turned around and as soon as he said "take a deep breath, this won't hurt a bit." Shit went flying, all over. When it left me it was smooth, so i didn't notice until he yell "what the fuck?!?" When I turned to look at him, he was covered in all this waste from his waist to the top of his head. I started crying, my aunt, the nurses, and the other doctor came running in.

They all stopped and looked around for a second, and then all of them started laughing pretty hard. The doctor washed the shit off his face, and went to take a shower and went home. The other doctor was hesitant to do it, so he asked a nurse to give me the shot. She laughed the whole time she was doing it. Yeah, good times.

Username: TheZimGuy

I was 18 working at a movie theater, putting away a shipment of supplies. I was goofing around on the platform truck, pretending to surf or whatever, when the thing tipped over backwards.

One of the handles, which was curved and metallic (all jagged and fucked up from years of abuse), tore through my pants and underpants --ultimately punching me square in the butt hole.

I hopped up, embarrassed, and ran to the bathroom because it thought I was going to shit my pants. I sat down on the toilet and heard a steady trickling hitting the bowl. I look between my legs and there is quite a bit of blood already in the toilet. My supervisor, who witnessed the whole thing, walked into the (public bathroom) and asked "Is that you bleeding??"

Smash cut to me in the ED, sitting on an ice pack -- bleeding out my ass and waiting to get stitched up. I had a large laceration on the inside of my left butt cheek. Luckily, the handle didn't penetrate my butt hole (just punched it, as I had mentioned previously).

The most attractive doctor I have ever seen in my life walks into my room, puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says "Did someone hurt their little booty??"
Mortified, I made some joke about a pain in the ass or something stupid, and she surveyed the damage.

The sexy surgeon put 7 stitches in the wound while 4 other nurses spread my ass cheeks so she could do so. After it was all said and done, Dr. Hotfire sent me home with some hydrocodone (as doctors did in 2008) and told me to make an appointment to have my stitches removed in a few weeks.

I come back a few weeks later to get my stitches out and a much hairier, much less attractive doctor enters the exam room. He asked me to drop my pants and get on all fours. The swarthy doctor sticks his finger in my ass, realizes where the stitches are, and after taking a look says "Oh, these stitches are supposed to dissolve.

They will just come out on their own". He sent me home and sure enough, the stitches came out a few days later while I was wiping.

Username: nickiethebish

The summer after my Junior year of high school, the band took a trip to Disney World. At the time, I was dating my first girlfriend, and she was also in band and making the trip. We spent most of the 20+ hour bus trip together. When we woke up the next day, we were already at the park, and we spent the ENTIRE day there. Naturally, I spent the majority of that time with her, too.

By the end of that day, I had some intense pain in the lower part of my stomach. I mostly kept it to myself, thinking I just needed to shit. We finally get to the hotel, I call dibs on bathroom, do my thing, and who woulda known it, that didn't help one bit. At this point, the pain has shifted down some more.

The next day, we go back to the park, but today is the day of our performance. We are to March in the Disney World Parade. I'm the trombone section leader (there were 3 of us, woo), so I'm what you would call somewhat important.

Unfortunately for them, at about noon, I can barely move, I'm in such pain. We find the director, let him know, he takes me to the park medics, and they express enough concern that I get my first ambulance ride to the hospital.

In case I was too subtle, at this point, it feels like my testicles are about to explode.
I spend 4 hours at the hospital, mostly sitting in the cold ass room with nothing but a flimsy gown and a friend's mom (had to have an adult with me). Which is kind of embarrassing, because I just had to get an ultrasound on my nuts.

Finally, the doctor comes back with the charts. This man really tried to say that everything looks good and normal and that he doesn't know what's up but that I was going back from where I came.
At this point, I'm too flustered to give a damn, so I look him right in the eyes and say, "Tell me straight, doc, do you think I have blue balls?"

This dude really grinned, blushed a bit, held his hands up like "I don't know," and backed out of the room into the hallway without even looking, and zoomed out of sight, never to be seen again.

Got back to the hotel room and painted the shower wall. Less than 24 hours, the pain was back, and I had to make it the entire bus ride back.

Username: cole93747

When I was 15 my younger brother surpassed me in height and I was beginning to worry. For context I now have 4 brothers and at 6 foot 1 I am the shortest, yet the second oldest. 15 year old me was convinced I had a problem and was not growing as a normal boy should. I would count the growing pube hairs and still had not gone through puberty. Well, after months of complaining, I finally convinced my Dad to take me to the doctor.

When we arrived at the doctors office, he asked “what’s the reason for your visit?” I proceeded to go on a rant about my stunted growth and tried to convince the doctor something was wrong. He then said, “ok, we can first run a bone scan and get immediate results. This will tell us the age of your bones and we can compare that to your actual age to see if we have a problem.” So he proceeds and orders some X-rays.

Waiting patiently in the lobby with my father, my name finally gets called to see the doctor again. We went into one of the patient offices and he closes the door and says, “your bones are normal comparatively to your actual age. We can conduct another test to see if you are growing normally.”

Without hesitation or even asking what the test was I agreed. Before the doctor proceeded he asked me, “ is it ok for resident doctors in training to observe.” I agreed quickly again wanting to find out if something was wrong (mind you my father was in the room still).

The doctor left for what was seemingly forever, but realistically was 5 minutes. He came back in with a beautiful younger female doctor and had beads in his hand. He said, “please lay down on the examination bed and remove your pants.” Then proceeded to use the different sized beads with numbers on them to measure my ball-size.

This turned into a debate with the doctor in training and they were so stuck between a 4 and a 5 he asked my fathers opinion. My dad was a lifesaver and knew this was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life so he just stood up, looked and blurted out, “ it’s a 5.” Safe to say after that moment I began to grow and did not let myself talk me into doctor visits for a while.

Username: czwren

This was while I was in the Marines and doing some training out in the Mojave desert. My nuts had been aching off and on for about 2 weeks, everything downstairs had been working normal, but like once very couple hours they would just ache. Like enough to distract me but not enough that I'd have to stop what I was doing.

That was until we got back from this one op, as soon as I stopped our vehicle my balls felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. I communicated this to the corpsman and he determined a hospital trip was in order. So we got to the hospital, they gave me some painkillers and I chilled out until the ultrasound tech could get ready (it was around 2am so I'm not sure if she was on call and asleep or what).

She has me take my pants off, lay down on the bed thing, flip my dick on my stomach so it's under a towel, puts my sack on top of another towel, and starts putting this really warm cream on my sack so the ultrasound can do its thing. While she was doing her job on my junk I started relaxing a bit (it was like 2am so I was dog tired), I'm not sure if you've ever relaxed while someone plays with your junk but there's normally only one thing that's going happen, and happen it did.

I came out of my relaxation state at one point, looked down the bed, and the towel was sticking up an extra 3 or 4 inches. I apologized profusely and she just kinda brushed me off. Once she finished she gave me another towel and told me to go ahead and wipe off the cream and someone would get back to me with results. Now I hadn't showered in a week and baby wipes only do so much.

That warm cream she put on my junk was clearish white starting out. When I looked down the entire sack towel was brown as fuck. I was absolutely mortified that this woman had probably gotten woken up to go check some random dudes balls at 2am, I popped a boner in the middle of it, and she was probably dirtier than she'd been in most of her career.

The prognosis was that one of my balls had begun unraveling and that there wasn't anything they could do other than keep an eye on it and tell me to wear compression shorts.

Username: Windmillskillbirds

More funny than embarrassing, but on the last day of school before the Christmas holidays, I had like one class because I'm in my final year at High School. So, I decide to go in to school to use the pretty kick-ass *free* (for 6th years anyway) Gym we have for the morning, make the most of it and whatnot. I'm in there for about 2 hours and I'm sweating like a motherfucker by the end. By the end, I probably had my earphones in for the whole time.

Now, my earphones are the kind of In-Ear ones which go over the back of your ear to stay in place. The one I had (and still have actually) have removable Silicone caps, as they come with different sizes so you can pull the ol' Switcheroo if you ear is too small or big. So, what happens to these rubber caps while in my hot hot ears for 2 hours? They expand and become softer.

I go to get changed and just pluck both earphones out. Ol' lefty comes out no problem, but the right one makes an odd noise when it comes out. I then look at it...No rubber cap. I immediately say "Aw shit" really loud. I realise that sound in me right ear sounds a bit muffled. I ask my mate who was with me at the time to take a look, and he says there's a wee silicone earphone but stuck in my ear. He uses the tweezers in my swiss army knife to try and pluck it out. If anything, it goes further in.

So, I then fuck off to the doctor's office, about a 5 minute walk from the school. i go up to the desk and, giggling slightly, tell the lassie that I have an earphone stuck in my ear. She tells me to go sit in the waiting area. I wait for half an hour, kind of laughing to myself the whole time about the stupid predicament I'm in, when the doctor calls em in. i tell him what's up, he tells me this kidns of stuff happens a fair bit.

He then gets out a **massive** set of fuck off tweezers out, spikes and all, and takes it out in like 5 seconds. I shake his hand and leave, and listen to music on the way home with those earphones.

Username: Epic_Spitfire