_It's pretty easy to feel self-conscious while receiving a check-up from a doctor. There's a whole lot of looking at your body, touching it and tapping it, sometimes with clothes needing to be removed. _
Then something unexpected happens, and the moment becomes one of the most embarrassing experiences of your life. That's what happened to these unlucky people!
[Source listed at the end of the article.]
I Thought You Were Done Talking
“Me with an eye specialist as she came back with my test results:
Doctor: Your eyes are pretty….
There was a long, awkward silence as each of us realized what the other said. I slowly left the hospital and still remember how embarrassed I was.
P.S: People usually compliment my eyes so I thought she was one of them. Wrong assumption though.
Well That Didn’t Go As Planned
“Ok, brace yourself:
When I was 14, I had just become active with my first ‘real’ boyfriend. My no-nonsense father was not impressed, but would rather I was safe than the alternative. He wanted to bring me to a doctor to look at prevention options.
In the walk-in doctor’s office with my dad, I asked the doctor what he thought was the best option. The doctor looks at my father and asks,
‘Have you tried using a johnny?’
My dad finally gets it out: ‘… I’m her father…’
I swear on my life, it was silent in the room for an entire minute while the doctor sat there checking his notes, his face totally red. I wanted to disappear.
We never spoke of it again.
There you have it.”
She Didn’t Mean To Test THAT
“I was 15 years old and during a school PE lesson, I got hit in the groin extremely hard by a cricket ball. I doubled over in agony and couldn’t straighten at all, and upon inspection of the area I discovered that I had an injury to the ‘family jewels.’ The school called my mom and to the emergency department I went.
After waiting a while I was called into the doctor’s office by a nurse and my mom came in with me (as I was under 16 I had to be accompanied by a parent/guardian). I couldn’t believe it when the doctor turned out to be a female. I sat (rather gingerly) and explained what happened. The doctor asked to see that area, and by now this was embarrassing enough. I get out my family jewels in front of my mom, and as the doctor was examining them I made a huge mistake – I glanced over at the nurse.
Now, remember that I was 15, raging with hormones and even the hint of an attractive body was enough to get me excited. With a female doctor examining my jimmies as well, I couldn’t help it as my body took over and even though I was in pain I got a big one. I tried to make it go away but nothing I tried worked. I just stood there in the doctor’s office with my mom sitting in the chair next to me, the nurse standing in the corner, and a female doctor examining my pair. It felt like I had the biggest one I’d ever had.
The doctor smiled at me and said something like, ‘Well at least it’s working.’
I was incredibly embarrassed, while my mom just found it hilarious.”
Keep Your Pants On
“I had to visit a hospital for a checkup because it was mandatory in the new organization that I was joining.
I generally avoid hospital visits unless I’m bleeding to death because I’m not a very astute individual, and only ended up here since I didn’t have any other option.
Following a series of tests, in some of them I had to take my clothes off, I was led to my final test where I had to take an X-ray. As I was waiting in the room, a male doctor came up to me and handed me something that resembled a hospital dress gown. He asked me to change and left the room.
I didn’t think much of it and took off my t-shirt and jeans. The hospital dress gown, however, seemed a little too short and bordered just below my stomach. Considering you’re not supposed to have any shame around your doctor, I let it be and waited for him to come back in.
I had a simple test where I just had to rest my face against an apparatus and didn’t have to lie down. The procedure took a whole two minutes and as the doctor was leaving the room, he said:
‘Why did you have to take your pants off? I never asked you to.’
I stood there, rooted to the spot, and flushed a deep shade of maroon as I absorbed what he just said to me. He left the room, leaving me in the company of my mantling embarrassment.
The next time I visit a doctor, I’m going to remember to always ask what they want me to take off before I make that assumption myself. #NeverAgain.”
A Medical Miracle
“This was not a doctor but an optician.
I went for my annual eye test and to get a prescription for the next year’s supply of contact lenses. I usually meet the same optician and he gave me a warm welcome to the big machine that tests your eyes. He started the test and was very surprised to read the results. In great excitement, he came up to me and said: ‘Ma’am, we have only come across this in theory and I never knew this is really possible. Your power has corrected completely! You don’t need contact lenses or glasses anymore!’
I actually believed him for a moment before sheepishly replying ‘Are you sure you negated the effect of the contact lenses I am wearing?’
It turns out I was supposed to take them off at least 30 minutes before testing my eyes. Oops.
The man was at loss for words. Not sure if he was more embarrassed or I was.”
He Could Have Been A Wrestler Instead Of A Doctor
“After my husband and I worked unusually hard in the backyard, I woke up the next morning with tenderness in my chest, and the left side was visibly larger than the right one. I was in a panic thinking the worst, of course.
We were new in the area, and I had to find a doctor. I grabbed a telephone book and called the first doctor listed. He was an M.D. and also listed under osteopathy, whatever that meant… Hey, I was a young newlywed and saw the initials, M.D. Those were the initials I was looking for and understood in 1985. Thank goodness, the doctor was able to see me that very day!!
I arrived at the clinic and the nurse checked my vital signs and asked all the normal questions. I told her about my symptoms, and she said to undress from the waist up and the doctor would be in shortly.
The doctor walked in…a short and slim, sinewy type fellow. He looked at my chest for some time and jotted notes on his clipboard. I was nervous and scared as he did the normal exam. He asked what I had done the day before in the yard. He was a serious man lacking any sort of bedside manner, and I felt very shy, to say the least, discussing my body in front of this doctor. This straightforward man asked if my husband and I had done anything unusual in the erotic sense. I felt my face get hot with embarrassment and said with emphasis, NO!! He jotted down more notes (I would have liked to have seen those notes). He said I was too young to have a mammogram, but he would order the test as he wasn’t sure what my problem was.
He was about to leave and with relief, I pulled my top closer to me. Before he opened the door to leave, he looked at me and walked towards me saying he was going to try something. He instructed me to cross my arms in front of my chest, and he slowly lowered me down on the table. I knew my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I stared up at him, eyes wide, as he quickly jumped and hurled all his weight upon my crossed arms. It reminded me of a human karate chop! Had this doctor gone insane on me? Didn’t this happen only in the movies? I remember seeing his high top tennis shoes dangling off the side of the table as he laid sideways on top of my crossed arms. I had never been to a chiropractor’s office and had no idea what they or an osteopath does.
I heard a loud crack in my back and the unimaginable happened … I farted and grunted!!!!! I was horrified and knew I would die on the table from embarrassment. My left chest would be of no importance after that day.
This serious doctor almost looked amused and said, ‘You have a pinched nerve in your back. Both sides of your chest will be the same size tomorrow morning.’ That kid’s song, ‘the thigh bone is connected to the… hip bone,’ was ringing in my head as I got dressed.
He was right. They were the same size the next day. And 30 years later, I still want to smile when I see the initials D.O. or the word osteopath, as I am reminded of that particular doctor’s visit long ago!”
I Can Read With My Eyes Closed
“I was having a physical done when this happened. A nurse was testing my eyesight and tells me to cover my left eye and read the letters off the poster, then cover the other eye.
She then proceeded to tell me, ‘Okay, now let’s try both.’ I was befuddled but my immediate reaction was to proceed to cover both my eyes. She and all the other nurses died of laughter and later clarified by saying, ‘I meant look with both eyes.’ Boy, was I embarrassed!
The Ultimate Distraction
“I have a really good one that happened this past summer. Warning: it’s a 4.9 on my grossness scale.
So, the entire thing started with my dad encouraging me to invite friends over with his ‘Be social, you antisocial introvert’ spiel. I humored him.
I was walking around in my den with my friend. My sister had been walking around with some sewing needles a few days before. Somehow, a sewing needle got lodged in the carpet and was sticking out, sharp end up, as I walked around.
Needless to say, I wasn’t examining the rug for loose sewing needles. I stepped on it.
It didn’t seem bad. Sure, it was painful, but it wasn’t that bad. It pierced my big toe, and I pulled it out, examining the sharpened tip. I told my friend I was fine, and it was just a little prick. It was still kind of hurting, but I figured the pain would go away.
It didn’t. Over the next few days, it began to hurt more and more. My toe began to get purple around the part where the needle went in. After six days, my mom went to the local pharmacy and picked up some antibiotics for me. I couldn’t put any more weight on my toe. Three more days went by; it was getting worse. It was here that I decided to go to the doctor. By this point, I had a bad limp.
My dad was coming home from a business trip, and my mom was working really far away. Neither of them could bring me, so I Ubered to the doctor’s office.
The doctor examined my foot. She then warned me, before poking at my foot with a sterilized needle. The pain was unbearable. I was screaming and begging for her to stop.
She finally did, once she’d checked it sufficiently, and put it in a sink full of water. My toe started looking a bit weird. It looked like a bubble was forming on the place where the needle had gone in. It was glinting strangely, like something was reflecting off the bubble.
When she pulled my foot out of the water, I realized that it wasn’t a bubble.
It was the needle, poking out of my foot. Part of the needle had gone deep into my big toe, and when I pulled it out, the tip broke off and got trapped inside of my toe for nine days. It was infected, and there was now a sewing needle poking out of the side of my toe.
I was, needless to say, pretty surprised when she said this. She carefully (though I protested) wrapped my sock around the foot, insisting that I couldn’t get more bacteria in it. I was afraid that the sock would get caught on the needle. It hurt a lot as it was.
She directed me to a place to get an X-ray. I Ubered again, and met my housekeeper there. (I’m a really, really privileged kid. Sue me.)
So, I got an X-ray on my foot. It was still weird to see the needle poking out.
‘So, what did the X-ray show?’ I asked the guy who’d X-rayed my foot.
‘Look at the disc,’ he told me. ‘Here, I’ll print it for you.’
‘Um,’ I said, ‘Can’t you just tell me? I can’t exactly look at the disc.’
He handed me the disc. ‘There’s a needle in your foot,’ he said.
‘I got that,’ I said, but he wasn’t listening. I gave up. I went home, and then went to a new place—a guy who specialized in feet.
I hobbled into a room with one of those uncomfortable doctor’s beds. I sat on it and waited. The doctor came in after a few minutes and looked at the offending, swollen purple toe with the needle sticking out. He had someone take new X-rays of my foot. ‘I’ll check these and be back in a few minutes,’ he told me.
Of course, ‘a few minutes’ in doctor lingo means ‘forty-five minutes to an hour.’
So, awhile later, he comes back in and says, ‘Okay. You have a needle in your foot.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know.’ Seriously. I know I have a needle in my foot. It’s kind of obvious. People can stop telling me that now.
‘I’m going to have to take it out,’ he continued.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘I’m going to give you a shot to numb the area,’ he said, ‘And then we’re going to wait ten minutes. I’m going to come back in and remove the needle. You won’t feel anything.’ He pulled out a needle.
Now, normally I’m not scared of needles. Heck, I gave myself growth hormone shots every night for years. I’ve gotten countless blood tests and IVs. I’m used to needles.
But this one was longer than my pinky finger.
‘Okay,’ he said, advancing towards me with the needle. ‘Ready?’
‘What?!’ I asked, scrambling backwards. ‘Right now? Can I call my mom first?’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back in five minutes. Call your mom.’
He meant five normal minutes this time. I called Mommy Schwartz and asked her for advice.
‘Just power through it,’ she said.
‘What?’ I yelped. ‘Mom, that needle is huge!’
‘You just have to have the strength to do this, Brooke,’ she said impatiently.
The doctor came back in. I panicked again when he approached me with the needle.
‘If I come in and you’re not ready again,’ he warned, ‘we’re taking you into the operation room. Trust me, you do not want this to happen. I’ll be back in five minutes.’
My mother was angry now. ‘Brooke, just get through it!’ she snapped. ‘You do not want to have an operation. It’s expensive, and it’ll be a huge deal. It’ll take longer for you to heal. They’ll have to knock you out with medicine. This is the best option.’
Being knocked out with medicine seemed like a good alternative. It’s happened to me before; it’s not that bad. ‘I’m going to call Dad,’ I told her, ‘and see if he has advice.’
Now, remember when I told you my dad was driving home from a business trip? Well, he was in his car, driving home. With his boss.
I didn’t know that, though. All I knew was that my dad and his colleague were in the car. I desperately asked for advice.
‘My son has a medical problem,’ Boss said. ‘He used to get a lot of blood tests done. Whenever they put in the needle, I’d have him list the batting lineup on his favorite baseball team. Can you do something like that?’
‘I know pi,’ I said cautiously.
I think you know where this is going. When the doctor came back in, I was prepared.
He switched out the needle for a (slightly) shorter needle. This one was almost as long as my pinky, instead of longer than my pinky.
He put a ton of cold spray on my foot. I started spouting out digits of pi. He inserted the needle.
The pain was intense. I started howling out digits of pi. My dad and his friend were silent over the phone, the doctor was digging around in my foot with a gigantic needle, and I was shouting out dozens and dozens of digits of pi.
It took only a minute or two—not enough for me to finish off the amount of pi I know.
The doctor told me he’d be back in ten minutes to make an incision and get the needle out. My dad and his friend congratulated me on being ‘strong’ and ‘handling the situation well.’ I was just glad that the worst was over. When the doctor came in ten minutes later, he rummaged around in my foot for the original sewing needle while I calmly recited digits of pi. He was right; I barely felt anything. It was over before I knew it. I got a boot and instructions to soak my foot three times a day and take extremely powerful antibiotics.
When I asked one of the nurses if she’d heard (she was working in one of the other offices), she immediately said yes, and that the entire office had heard. Terrific.
My most embarrassing moment in front of a doctor was when I started screaming out over 150 digits of pi for the doctor, my father, his boss, and the entire doctor’s office to hear.
My dad’s boss told the story to his friends at lunch with my permission.”
She Earned Her Stripes
“Something to know. I am barely 5 feet tall, and I painted a two-bedroom house with a make-up brush. It really was the only way to make sure the gorgeous sapphire blue didn’t get spoiled by the white trim. This doesn’t seem related to an embarrassing moment in front of a doctor, but actually, it is.
During that hot summer I kept noticing sudden and strange bruising. I do bruise quite easily, but there were so many and more each day! Well, I convinced myself I probably had leukemia or something! I mean why was I suddenly black and blue! One morning when my legs had marks all over them I rushed myself to urgent care.
I am sure many of you can guess the outcome of my embarrassing moment – I am in the doctor’s office, wearing my paint shirt (oversized men’s, originally white, but over the years now covered with a multitude of colors) and my mom jeans, also with splotches of sapphire blue and white and the doctor asks me to explain why I am there. I do, and we make small talk about our summertime activities, and I am more than a little anxious to get down to the business of figuring out why I am dying! Then, because much of the bruising is on the back of my body, he gives me a gown and says he’ll be in shortly so he can see my complaints for himself.
So I’m in the gown, open at the back, and the doctor comes in with a mirror. He shows me how odd the bruising is, and I see that it is almost in stripes going across both legs and the stripes even seem equidistant from each other. The doctor is silent and just waiting for me to ‘get it.’ When I don’t, he says, ‘You been painting a lot this summer? Up on a tall ladder much?’ I am thinking, ‘Huh?’ And he says, ‘See how regular the bruises are? They’re from the ladder. Now off with you, and good luck finishing your project!’
Perhaps nothing to be embarrassed about, but to me (with my perfectionist tendencies, I enjoy feeling intelligent maybe more than I should), I feel a sheepish smile come up to my cheeks just remembering the story.”
These comments have been edited for clarity.