House call memories

While I was not subjected to this having 2 parents who are "medical people", I remember staying with relatives and coming down with something a their pediatrician or GP being called in to rescue me. I also recall my friends growing while growing up recounting their experiences when the doctor "came over", and I did have a few of my own while staying with relatives in which their pediatrician or GP would be called in to save the day.

Most commonly, I remember not wanting it to happen at all, and the memories span from about age 6 to 15/16. Both from my own memories and the recantations of my friends I recall trying to talk my aunts and uncles out of having the doctor come over, first and foremost. Then the anxiety and mixed anticipation, particular as an adolescent. Then, there was the trepidation of knowing I would have to comply. I recall the embarrassment of laying on the sofa or the bed, having to raise or unbutton my top, and then peering out of the sides of my eye for what he was fumbling for next in his bag. It was like watching a bad episode of "Felix The Cat"! Then, out would come the black, white or pink "pencil case" and the thermometer would be withdrawn from it. I recall hoping against hope that I would see a thin, long silver tip on it rather than the round or pear-shaped bulb, but hope was never realized. "OK, Rebecca, let's see what your temperature is. Pull down your pants (skirt, whatever) and turn over." Complying in total embarrassment as my Aunt and Uncle, and at times cousin(s) were looking on. Laying there sliently and helplessly waiting for it to be withdrawn and hearing the announcement of the reading and wondering what was next.

Well, sooner than later, I found out what was next as a silver case and eventually as I got older, a plastic packed syringe was pulled from the bag of tricks and loaded with a solution, usually penicillin. I remember the futile gesture of starting to raise my panties and pants or skirt and being told by him, "Not just yet, Rebecca", and then realizing the cool touch of the alcohol on a buttock.

What I dreaded the most was hearing the phrase, or something similar to it from him, "Do we have an enema bag in the house?" which meant I would have it admininstered by him, on the spot, or, "Let's be sure she gets a good a enema at some point today".

In more cases than not, this was all taking place as a family event since it was all considered "completely routine" in the era. While being compliant, I still can feel the embarrassment of every motion and movement and visualization of his actions. The worst period was probably from 11 and up when I had physically matured and developed both physically and a sense of body consciousness.

What were your experiences like?

Very similar experiences!

For me it began with "not feeling well". Pants and underwear around my knees as my temperature was taken. If I had a fever I was made to undress and put on pajamas and get into bed. Then the dreaded phone call to the doctor's office to arrange for a house call that evening.

I nervously wait for his arrival sometime after supper. His procedure was always the same. First an ear nose and throat exam then a listen to my chest and back. Finally the instruction to turn over and lower my pants for a temperature check. His trick was to leave the thermometer inserted while he prepared a shot of penicillin.

While all this was going on he would tell my mother what to do for me, concluding the advice to administer a soap enema as needed, "To keep the bowels working."

Good ole Dr. Lyons (probably in his 40's) white hair and steel rimmed glasses.He was always pleasant and he always took rectal temperature, usually got a shot and almost always prescribed an SSE and rinse enema and if I was still sluggish the next day another round of 2 enemas.

My greatest house-call apprehension was the dread penicillin shot in my bottom. Each time the doctor reached into his bag I anxiously hoped he would produce something other than a syringe but that was foolish of me because I always had to roll over before the shot was prepared and, so, never saw my injections.

Can remember these house calls. Rectal temperatures were always taken, and usually followed by the dreaded shot in the backside. Started getting nervous the moment the doctor was called to come, and when I saw his car pull up I really started to worry even more anticipating what I knew would probably occur. Later on we went to the doctor's office for our appointments. The office I went to was well known for always prescribing injections in addition to meds at the pharmacy. You could actually see the fear in the faces of the young patients in the waiting room, as they all saw patients holding and rubbing their bottoms after leaving the exam room. On some occasions you could hear some crying coming from the exam rooms. Remember one specific time I was waiting in one room and the room adjacent to me had a young female patient. When I heard her door open she began sobbing. The nurse was not very nice as she scolded her that she had yet to do anything to her and demanded she stop crying. After some time she quieted down , and then came the sobbing again as I knew she had finally gotten her shot.

Never had a house call done.

Never had one, but the thought of what could've been has run across my mind at times.

This is something that needs to be brought back having a care in case of an emergency.

Compared to many of these remarkable accounts, mine is quite mundane, I can only ever recall one home visit from a doctor. Despite the advent of the NHS in the UK, there was general reluctance ( allied to a lot of misplaced pride / ignorance) to 'trouble' doctors who, in my very working - class community (the town had coal mines, factories and a large steam locomotive engine depot) were regarded almost as demi-gods They were highly respected, but partly viewed as 'extremely important' people who should not be bothered over minor ailments ( sadly, tnis somewhat misplaced sense of ultra deference meant that people with quite serious medical conditions did not wish to 'inconvenience' doctors either). It was the total opposite of the equally ridiculous situation in 2018..where many in the UK seem to have little or no respect for anyone / anything and hundreds of 'patients' turn up at hospital A & E departments when, in all seriousness, they simply should not be there at all(but I digress).

It was 1960 and I was 8 years old. I had been ill for a couple of days. A very high temperature (although no one had taken my temperature with a thermometer) - I was sweating profusely and I was hot to the touch. A lot of vomiting and diarrhoea ( sorry!!). 'Feverish' and listless. After 2 days of 'home remedies' not working and me feeling very weak (hardly able to stand to even stagger to the toilet)...it was finally decided that someone would go to the doctor's surgery ( we did nothave a telephone) and arrange for a home visit.

I was feeling so wretched that I do recall feeling very hopeful that the doctor might 'make me better'. Even though I was obviously quite unwell....my mother was reminding me to be polite and mind my manners. In such a genuine community, we knew of the doctors. The one who called on me was Dr Beattie. He was a no nonsense Scotsman. Quite gruff, but kindly enough in his own way. All doctors in the UK in 1960 seemed to speak to children in the 3rd person!! "Now then young man? How are we feeling today? Right, let's have a look at you shall we?" etc. I was fascinated by his Scots brogue accent.

Of course, my mother answered his questions on my behalf, describing my symptoms and talking about me as if I was not present. She was also apologising profusely the whole time for calling him out, saying that he must be very busy and have far more important things to do etc., etc and that there must be people / children who were very seriously ill and in much more need of his attention.

I believe that he did, in not so many words, almost 'tear her off a strip','explaining' that it WAS his job!! I am sure that he went on a bit about 'misguided' people not calling the doctor soon enough etc and that there was no need to apologise oh, and yes, he had a sick boy to examine!!!

This was not like a school medical of course. He did shine alight into my eyes, down my ears, looked at my mouth, throat, spatula on the tongue etc. He took my temperature-orally, and pronounced that it was indeed raised. He told me to sit up and take off my pyjama jacket. I was just about able to manage (as I was feeling a bit nauseous) with help from my mother. He ausculcated my chest and my back. He then asked me to lie down and he did some abdominal palpation etc. I felt a little tender, but I was not in agony.

As I recall, he mentioned plenty of fluids, still having to rest, being kept in a room with an even temperature -but with fresh air. I think he prescribed two sort of preparations and some tablets..,,I can't recall exactly what they were...nor what was actually officially wrong with me. I was in bed for another 2 or 3 days, but my condition soon improved and I was up and about again a day or two after that.

How times change. It was quite a long road where I lived. There were about 500 houses (c.250 on either side) But only 3 or 4 people had cars. We genuinely did play outside a lot in the road as young children. So, doctor's visits (which were not frequent) became major events if they were witnessed. The reason? Because (to us boys) they drove the most amazing cars!! Dr Beattie's was a huge Humber Super Snipe . But tbe one we used to gawp open mouthed at belonged to a lady doctor. Unusually, no one sermed to know her surname. She was simply known as 'Dr Kathleen'. Her car? It was a metallic green Citroen DS19. Back in a time / place where the ownership of any car was uncommon..,.this vehicle was (to us) like something from another world!! So, yes...Doctors' house calls were viewed as something quite special, How naive we were.

Only had house calls when I was a child and sick remember first thing was pajamas and underwear came down and he took my temperature. One time I had a fever and he gave me a alcohol bath to break my fever it was very cold and he stripped me naked

I had a few "house calls" as a kid, when I was really sick. I think once for measles.

The most memorable one was the one for appendicitis. Mom seemed quite afraid, I had high fever and was puking anything I hate, and at least the doctor seemed to know what she was doing. I however would have preferred if she had clearly explained where that gloved and lubricated finger was going.

In the US you probably have to be over 60 to remember house calls unless your family has or had concierge medicine.

I have mentioned in other posts that as a boy I got many ear infections and sore throats. Sometimes I was so sick that my mother decided I was too sick to take me to the doctor's office so he would make a house call. It was always late afternoon. I would be on the couch and he would come in and do a basic exam, mostly looking in my ears and throat. He usually ask my mother what my temperature was. It always ended in a penicillin shot in the butt (which I hated as a child). I would have to take my pants and underwear down and lay on the couch. He would give me the shot while I was laying on the couch. The curtains would be open and I was worried that one of the neighbors would see in and see me getting the shot. Most of the time two or three days later my mother was taking me to his office for a second penicillin shot in the butt. While I hated those shots as a boy, it is the basis for my liking painful shots in the butt now.

Since as a boy I got all those shots while laying on my front, I like shots best today when I am laying down. Now as an adult when I get shots in the butt at the doctor's office, I am always standing up and they are not painful.

I would really like to get a couple of very painful shots in the butt while laying down. I need to find a lovely lady to give me shots like that.

My exams and medical treatments always happening in clinic surrounding except once when I was 13/14. My father was on business trip so my mother called our family friend, a doctor, to examine me at our home.

He examined me in our living room, asking my mother for condition let me measure my temperature then listened my lungs with stethoscope. At the end he wrote a prescription for 10 days of penicillin injections and told that nurse will come to give me first one.

Nurse came in the evening. For the first time I saw preparation process of injection from the begging till the end just in front of my eyes. She gave me injection while I was laying on sofa in front of my mother and younger brother. I desperately tried to hold my voice in front of them but till the end of injection I had to cry loudly.

During next 9 days one of nurses (2 females and one male) were coming to my home every morning to give me injection. All 9 times I cried loudly and I was so embarrassed that my brother saw me crying during injections. My parents often comparing our behavior during injections. He was 2 years younger but being a big boy who standing injections without tears since his five. I was little silly baby who cried till my 15.

I can only remember being examined at home once. I was a child and my mother had called the doctors surgery as I was feeling too ill to go there. I can only really remember my mother unbuttoning my pyjama top for the doctor who then auscultated my chest and back and also tapped on my chest, I'm guessing I had some kind of respiratory problem. In the UK I think most times the patient struggles into the surgery unless they're old or unable to get there.

One of my most vivid memories was a house call when I was around 6 years. My brother was ill and so my mother called a nearby neighbor who was a GP. I was happy because most of the time I was the one who was ill and now it was my brother who was going to be examined. So I felt very secure this time and kept on joking around. That feeling didn't last long because soon after my brother was finished my mother asked the doctor to draw some blood of me. I was shocked and tried to get out of the situation. But one gaze of the doctor, to whom I had a little crush, I went quiet and let him do his job. I think that was one of the experiences that triggered my medfet.

Can remember an occasion where my older sister was ill, an the doctor was called for a house call (common at that time). After she was treated the doctor asked if there were any other children in the house as what she had was very contagious. I can still remember watching the doctor prepare the syringe (not the plastic ones used today) on a table in the living room as I was laying down on my stomach on the couch with my underpants down.