Author: dwilson320
(To the best of my recollection this is a true story.)
The other day I found myself traveling down Schantz Avenue in Dayton, Ohio. It is a road that I rarely ever travel. To my surprise as I rounded the corner I saw the old house that was our family doctor’s office when I growing up in the late sixties. The building is now occupied by a group of lawyers and is still in very good shape considering its age. As I passed by this old house I had several flashbacks to when I was a boy and I would get hauled off to the doctor's office to get cured of whatever it was that ailed me.
In particular I recalled being about 9 or 10 years old and having some kind of cold or flue and as always my mom hauled me off to the doctor. I hated the place. From the moment I walked in the door I just knew I was going to get a shot and that it was going to hurt. Even the strong smell of the disinfectant they used to clean the place smelled like I was going to get a shot.
After the never ending wait in the waiting room that just builds the anticipation to unbearable heights they finally called our name and my mom grabbed my hand and dragged me to the examination room. It was like being dragged to some room where they were going to perform an interrogation me to get information out of me. Like what kind of secrets could a nine year old boy possess? As I sat on the examination table and started another long wait for the doctor I looked around to see all their instruments and tools of doom. The sight of all the medical items that they had sitting out just contributed to the anticipation to the point where I could hardly stand it. My mom knew I hated ever second of being there but if I ever asked any questions I always got the same answer, “It’s for your own good”.
Finally the doctor came in. All I can remember of her is that she was probably in her late forties and that there was really nothing special about her looks except for one thing. I do remember specifically was that she had the biggest breast of anyone I knew at the time. Considering my situation as I sat there I was neither excited to see her or her big boobs because I knew the last thing she would say before she left the room is, “ A shot of this (or that) should take care of the problem”. There was never any discussion or negotiating it was always a shot.
As always she checked me out. She looked in my throat, looked in my ears, listened to my heart beat, rubbed her boobs on me a couple times and announced the verdict, “He needs a shot of this AND he needs a shot that”. (I don’t remember the exact medications at the time.)
“WHAT!!!!!!!!!”, I screamed in my mind, “TWO SHOTS!!!!!”. I sat there in stunned silence. I wished I had the guts to speak up and say something. I was trying to get prepared for one shot but how can it be that I needed TWO shots!!! All I could do was think that this cannot be true. This just isn’t fair. I was nearly in a state of panic as she walked back over to the little table. I did not know what to say or do as she wrote down the instructions in my file. My mom just nodded her head in agreement.
Now here comes the good part. When the doctor left the room MY MOM ALSO FOLLWED HER OUT OF THE ROOM. Thanks mom! In my moment of need you abandoned me and have left me at the mercy of, “The Shot Lady”. Can this situation get any worse? Well it wasn’t long before “The Shot Lady” came into the room. She did not have big boobs like the doctor but she was a lot better looking than the doctor. She was about 30 years old with dark hair and her uniform fit her nicely. But I didn’t let her good looks fool me. Her good looks were just a trick to distract you as she plunged those needles into your skin. Once she was through the door she quickly moved across the room grabs the file, looks down and says, “Aren’t you the lucky one today, you get two shots”. Thanks for reminding me lady. So as fast as she came in she leaves the room and shuts the door. At this point time has stopped for me. Several agonizing minutes later she returns with the two vials, syringes and all of her other items necessary to make an already crappy day worse.
She set everything down on the little table and comes over to me and rolls up my sleeve and says, “Oh no this will not do. Yours arms are simply not big enough for these shots. I want you to unbuckle your pants young man and lay down on the table.” This time I somehow found the courage to speak up and say, “But I want it in my arm!”. Without hesitations she sternly responded, “No! These shots need a larger muscle. Now unbuckle your pants and lay down on the table.” I was almost ready to cry by then. So while whimpering I unbuckled my pants, pulled down the zipper and laid down on the examination table. Just as soon as I proper myself up on my elbows she grabbed my shorts and pulled them half way down my thigh. Then with the skill of someone who is well practiced at humiliating little boys she reaches up and grabs my underwear and pulls them down to my shorts. There are no words that can actually describe the feeling of lying there feeling embarrassed while trying to anticipate what was about to happen. I recall having the strangest feeling in my groin as I pressed my pelvis to the table so hoping she would not see my privates. As bad as my situation was I was trying to at least save some form of dignity.
So as I lay on my stomach propped up on my elbows embarrassed, humiliated, whimpering and with a creepy feeling in my groin I get to watch as “The Shot Lady” prepares the first injection. Time stops for me as she raises the vile and slowly fills the syringe. Even to this day I want to know why is it every time when I get an injection they have to make sure you can see every step to the preparation. It must be something they learn in medical school. “The Shot Lady” must enjoy knowing just how much this contributes to the terror of the whole situation for me. It does not take long until the shot is ready. She then takes a cotton ball and pumps the brown alcohol dispenser, walks over and says those famous words, “This may sting a little bit.” There is no turning back now. She then firmly puts her hand on the small of my back followed by the cool feeling of the cotton ball being applied to my quivering butt cheek.. OOWWWW!!!!!!! Without warning she plunges the needle into my ass followed by the stinging of the medicine going into my poor butt. It only takes a few seconds but darn it sure did hurt. Without being able to see what she is doing next I can feel her putting a band-aid on my now wounded ass check. Then to my surprised she starts to massage my butt cheek for a few seconds. My guess is that it has something to do with getting the medicine to move around. In a strange way it feels kind of nice but it isn’t much of a consolation prize for what she had just done to my poor butt.
As she was walking away I was feeling kind of relieved until she got back to that small table and started to prepare the second shot. In my moment of pain and few seconds of pleasure I had forgot about the second shot. Once again she lifts the vile into the air with the syringe and begins to fill it in plain sight of me. Apparently that same rule about making sure she scares me to death applies to the second shot just as it applies to the first shot. Once again she gets out a cotton ball and pumps it on the alcohol dispenser while the hand with the syringe grabs a band-aid. As I lay there propped up on my elbows, whimpering, humiliated and embarrassed she walks over to me again but this time I do not get the famous words about how much the shot was going to hurt. Without hesitation she places her hand on the small of my back to hold me in place and starts to rub the cotton ball on the flesh of my other quivering butt cheek. Just as soon as I feel the cool sensation of the alcohol evaporating ZING I feel the pain of the second shot. Now I thought the first one hurt but that was nothing compared to the second one. I tried to hold back to tears but to no avail. The first shot only took a couple of seconds but this one seamed to take forever. Once she pulled the needle out I could feel her apply the band-aid and once again she massaged my butt cheek for a few seconds. I liked the butt massage but if this is what one has to go through in order to get a butt massage then I want nothing to do with them.
After she laid down her instruments of torture she said to me, “You can get up now”, she said. Without thinking I rolled over with my shorts and underwear still pulled down and sat up on my now very, very sore butt. I was so mad at myself. Here I had tried to prevent her from seeing my privates and what do I do I end up showing them to her anyway. After just a couple of seconds I cannot stand the pain coming from my butt so I jumped to the floor. Before I could reach down and pull up my clothes “The Shot Lady” was already there and she reached down in full view of “my little friend” and pulled my underwear up and my shorts. She left it up to me to zip them and buckle them. At this point I did not care. I was worn out from the experience. As for “The Shot Lady” she never even cracked a smile during the entire time but somehow I know she enjoyed it in her own way.
With the procedure done she grabs me by the hand and takes me out to the waiting room where my mom was sitting. Once in the waiting room “The Shot Lady” told my mom, “It sure was his lucky day with getting tow shots. He should be a little sore for a day or two but he will be fine”. The last thing I remember my mom saying was “Well it was for his own good”. Thanks Mom!! (Feel free to comment on my story. I have some more coming but they are based on fantasy unlike this one which was a true story.)
dwilson320