Has anyone ever fought against exam or injection as child?

Did anyone as a kid ever try and resist either having their temp taken at doctor, fight off exam or medicine, or refuse to get naked or refuse an injection? I remember being in the hospital when I was 7 or so, and refusing to take aspirin pills. I kicked and screamed and cried. I had thought the nurses and doctor had given up when they walked away but they came back and proceeded to hold me down and gave me the medicine rectally. It was horrible at the time, and I regretted throwing a tantrum in first place.

One time when we were kids my brother refused to cooperate during a physical. He wouldn't even get undressed. Our dad had to have a talk with him and then stand there the whole time to make sure he did what he had to do.

Not unless we wanted to get spanked by our parent right then and there. I might have been slow to get undressed for a physical when I was older and I cried at the thought of getting a shot when I was little, but outright refusal to cooperate never occurred to me. Same for my brothers. I don't remember there every being a fight at the doctor's office as we knew exactly what would happen if we didn't do as we were told.

Never even gave the idea a thought. I was a child of the late 50's and early 60's. Modesty was never an issue. My mom was a nurse and therefore whatever we were told to do at the doctor's office we did.

I always got he meanest, least compassionate nurse in the pediatricians office and her command upon entering the exam room was, "You know the drill." I did know the drill and it involved not having any clothing on for weighing and the exam.

I may have complained about it on the way home, but that always fell on deaf ears.

I once refused to get naked. I was aboiut 8 and it was one of the few times I undressed without my mom or a nurse in the room. I took everything off, and put my pants back on. When they came in I got yelled at and my pants were off very fast. That was also the 1st exam I boned up at all.

I'm in the same boat with miked and dennyd53. I never would think about refusing. The consequences of refusal would be worse than anything that could happen at the doctors. I may have cried after a shot, when very young, or undressed a little slower than I should, but never refuse outright. (Even crying about shots got me some pretty stern warnings.)

By the time I was old enough to go into the office alone, it was ingrained into me to do what I was told without hesitation or complaint. Then the Navy came along and any shred of modesty I had left was ripped asunder, and obeying orders was second nature.

As the Borg say: "Resistance is futile."

Not listening to the doc or nurse got me a spanking from mom as soon as we got home (sometimes in the car), then another belting from dad when he got home (since mom had to go through the trouble of spanking).

Not the examination itself nor as a child but I once resisted an injection in adolescence. I grew up in the era of penicillin shots and visits to the doctor normally ended with me having to pull everything down to my ankles and bend over the receptionist's lap for her to watch me get a painful and humiliating injection in the bare bottom. When I was about fourteen, I arrived to find the doctor's beautiful teen-aged daughter acting receptionist during the school holidays. I desperately craved her respect was horrified at the almost inconceivably embarrassing prospect of being held across her lap for a buttock injection so that the doctor's dread question, "How about a shot?" made me burst into tears. My tantrum must have me made me appear even more childish to the girl than I would have bare-bottomed across her lap for a shot and, to make matters worse, the pills I got in lieu or an injection made me sick so I had to return for the shot anyway.

I arrived to find the doctor's beautiful teen-aged daughter acting receptionist during the school holidays. I desperately craved her respect was horrified at the almost inconceivably embarrassing prospect of being held across her lap for a buttock injection so that the doctor's dread question,

It's understandable at that age to be horrified at the prospect of what you describe above ...but I bet the same prospect now would not be any inconvenience now ...how many are there who to lengths just to be able to relive the experience, but with the benefit of hindsight?

I never really fought against exam, but on one occasion ( the time when the pediatrician came to visit me at home) I screamed against the doctor who wanted to hospitalize me, I offended hime in many ways and i remember again when i began saying: I do not want to do this stupid hospitalization, the anger began to rise and I began to turn up the volume of my voice. I was afraid of what they would do to me at the hospital (especially blood drawn) e maybe i was also annoyed that the doctor when he examined me on the bed of my bedroom palpating the scrotum he had hurt me so i was embarrassed, scaried and angry. it was a bad night.

Jabbotuk said:

"I arrived to find the doctor's beautiful teen-aged daughter acting receptionist during the school holidays. I desperately craved her respect was horrified at the almost inconceivably embarrassing prospect of being held across her lap for a buttock injection"

Surely it would be totally unethical for the doctor to have his daughter in a position to view such procedures let alone participate, sounds rather unlikely.

I have had injections in the UK as a teenager and never had any other person from the practice present, nor has anyone else I know from those days.

As for being over someones knee for an injection... Never heard of that happening in the UK in a "real " medical situation. A pleasant fantasy for some maybe.

When I was six years old, I was a patient of a proctologist. He put a thermometer in my rectum and I complained loudly and continuously for it to be removed, as my sensitive rectum misinterpreted that as an impending BM and my little 6 yr old mind accepted that interpretation.

My mother never gave me enemas after that. I *loved* liquid being put into my rectum, just not solid things, except the nozzle. I loved the enema experience, even though the laxative she always put into the solution that gave me cramps always made me cry. A case of "hurts so good", I guess.

Quite right Rockdoc. It is pure fantasy, in the UK or anywhere else for that matter!

Never did my self

Yup few times and got held down and given the medicine or thermometer the other way so to speak.

Oh I remember several exams where I was really stubborned because I had to undress completely everything and had to lie down in the table completely naked. I remember my mom had to rant and rave at me several times, when I didn´t want to undress everything like at my very first appointment by the dermatologist when I was nearly 12. She said I would be grounded and then that I would come into the hospital when I would not follow the doctor. Oh, I must have been so embarrassingly!

Oh yes, I have to be honest about this as well. I have done this a few times, but oddly enough not as a child but as an adult and with Doc of all people, lol. We have had quite a few stare-downs when he wanted to do something to me and I didn't want him to do it. When I was his real patient and he was my real doctor he could be a real prick, lol. I guess he had that right, it was his office, he is the real doctor, I the real patient and there because I was really in need of real medical care. It took some doing, but he won everytime, lol. I will admit today, but wouldn't have then, but he was right every time, lol. But don't tell him I said that. LOL.

Mashie

I clearly remember not wanting to go for my annual check-up circa my 7th birthday. When the nurse tried to get me undressed and I resisted further, my mom yanked my shorts off, took out her hairbrush and let me have about 20 good smacks and asked if I wanted more. I never resisted an exam again.

I was 4 years old when it happened.

That singular event probably planted the seed from whence this fetish would grow. It's been said that things that happen in our formative years can have a lasting effect and I fully believe that this is true.

I was used to being in hospitals and around people in lab coats, so that part is consistent. These adults, these giants around me were always taking liberties with my person. Roughly too sometimes. Nudity was almost always involved and almost always against my will.

The event in question may not have bothered me so much, if there weren't so many lab coat types in the room. My 4 year old counting skills came up with 10. I may have been ok with 2 or 3. (more likely, 2). I can't remember why I was being admitted to the hospital (as I felt fine), and I had the terror of maybe my mother was sending me off to an orphanage or whatever. So I fought. They fought back.

Giants pinning a small being against a gurney in an ER. Hands everywhere. He struggles uselessly. They start pulling his shirt off and he realizes what they are up to. He feels hands working on the zip of his brown pants (this was the 70s, bad fashion was everywhere), and looks down. He knows they are going to pull his penis out and he is not in the mood for that with this many DRs around right now. As his fears are being realized, and his clothes are coming off him every which way, and his mother is standing slightly behind, watching apprehensively. He can see her, she can see what they are doing to him, but she does not help her little boy... He does not understand. (He will later). In a flash he hears a voice in his head telling him "urinate on them, if you pee, they won't be able to touch you, the waste liquid will keep them away" ... Guess what? ... It didn't work. 😢

The boy did not count on the dedication of the medical staff to their jobs. That was more that enough to counter whatever effect their disgust may have had. Too bad kid, better luck next time.

I don't recall what happened after that, I cried my self into an hysterical exhaustion, and I more or less passed out. The rest of the week was a blur, but I was very happy to see my mother again at the end of it all. (even if she did seemingly betray me by not helping me from those monsters, I thought).

When I was 4 or 5, I accompanied my mom to her own doctor appt. and afterwards I told her that my throat hurt. I think the nurses in her office took a look at me and wanted to do a throat culture, which I had never had before. Of course I gagged the second they got the swab in there and I cried like crazy. I tried getting off the table, so the nurses backed off a few minutes to let me calm down, then came back at me to try again. We went back and forth like this for about 20 minutes, until the two nurses finally won by holding me down on the table and forcing my mouth open. I was so angry afterwards, and I didn't even have strep in the end!

Pricemark, I hear ya when you mentioned your mom just stood there not doing anything. I didn't understand that, either - why isn't mom making them stop! LOL

I was about 16 and was on behavior meds for my alleged ADD/ADHD. Trust me, it was a misdiagnosis. I was nothing short of very rebellious. My very incompetent neurologist/psychiatrist dropped the ball by doubling the dosage of my medication. I could not stand the guy and we got into a heated exchange during one of my office visits. I was angry with him and my aggressive behavior caused him to be shaken up therefore he "accidently" issued the wrong dosage of Ritalin which in turn sent me on a downward spiral of depression. I ended up in the ER a few days later...I went down the tubes that quickly. I was dealing with my somewhat hysterical mother, a sympathetic ER doctor, my own doctor (Who always was looking out for me) and this Jackhole neurologist. They wanted to admit me fearing I was a danger to myself. Short of getting my blood pressure (which was low thanks to the drugs) that is far as it went. Dr. Jackhole knew what he did and I was convinced his actions were intentional. He thought that by getting me admitted to the psych ward he could cover his ass somehow. (although it has been several years and I have moved on I still firmly believe his actions were intentional.) I overheard the ER doc and my own doc saying to Dr. Jackhole. "I think it would be best for all parties involved that you just, for now leave him alone. He sees you as the aggressor. Just leave him alone for a while." Well needless to say you can always depend on Dr. Jackhole for being Dr. Jackhole. He walks right over to the curtained exam area in an attempt to do something. I had enough at this point. The switchblade came out of my boot and I confronted him. Before I could complete the next sentence I was tackled, restrained and given a shot. Then they forcibly took my blood but as you can imagine there was not much force involved. I passed out. When I came around I was not in the psych ward but still in the emergency room awaiting my blood tests results. Dr. Jackhole decided to leave, the ER doc was still around and my mother stated my own doc would return shortly. The ER doc gave me a brief exam and connected me to a heart monitor. My own doctor came back to examine me as well. My blood tests indicated a seriously adverse chemical imbalance caused by the the dosage mishap. Once again there was my doc going to bat for me. She had a calming affect on this troubled youth. She informed me I needed to be admitted but I was going to a medical unit and not the psych ward. She smiled at me and said "I need to examine you before they send you upstairs. It's gonna be a helluva lot easier without these restraints. Remember our conversation regarding truth and dignity? I want to help you. So I need your trust. I am going to remove these restraints so I can check you over. I promise to you again you are not going to the psych ward but you do need medical attention. I know you well enough to understand when you are hurting so please let me help you." She completed a basic exam then had me sit back on the table. She then hugged me to put me at ease and told me I would be OK. I started to calm down. I was hospitalized for 4 days. They needed to administer some treatments to correct the imbalance and conduct screening for possible kidney damage.

The next few days were very intense. Shots, pills blood test after blood test and what not. My vitals getting checked every few hours which subsequently drove me nuts. My doctor once again was there to catch me when I fell and fortunately the damage to my body was only temporary. One of my few outcast punk rock buddies came to visit me. He brought me a rock from the quarry because he could not think of anything else to do at the time. My dad found out, blew a gasket and gave my mom a serious dose of thunder and asked if I wanted to live with him. I managed to start working on my incorrigible behavior and mending some fences with my mother. There were times it was not easy but no more Dr. Jackhole and no more Ritalin. Once I was off the Ritalin things started to change. I started working an after school job at a local gas station and my grades slowly started to improve. I started to care about my grades, work responsibilities, my family and more importantly myself. I still spent a good deal of my time hanging out the quarry drinking beer, raising hell and being a punk rocker. Just not as frequently. I had some responsibilities. "Sorry, I promised the boss I would close up tonight, I will probably be by later on." or "Gotta mow the lawn" became more frequent excuses. Somehow through the grace of god and a caring doctor I survived my teen years

I remember when I was about 7 running out of not only the exam room but the office when told I needed a shot.

I had to have surgery on my back when I was 10yrs old. While in the hospital I had different complications and at one point I had to have a urine catheter put in while while I was awake,I had this happen once before so I knew how bad it burnt. I would not let the nurse do it so a nurse had to hold me down while another nurse put in the catheter.

When I was very young I do always remember fighting my mom every time when I had to go to the doctor. I had a fear of shots then and in my mind I associated going to the doctor with shots. As I got older I no longer fought against going to the doctor. So I guess even way back in childhood my med fetish was starting to form.

I can only remember resisting the doctor or nurse once when I was growing up. I think I was about 7 or 8 years old. I remember my mom telling the doctor something about me having hard bowel movements. After doing all of the standard stuff he felt all around my abdomen. Then he quietly said something to my mom that I couldn't hear and said he would be back in a few minutes. When he left I asked my mom why he was coming back and she said he just had one more thing to do. Then a nurse entered the room with a cart that was covered on the top. She then told me I needed to remove my underwear. At this point I started to sob and my mom was telling me to be a big boy. The doctor entered the room and told me to lay down on my stomach. I was crying by that point and the nurse and my mom had to hold me down. I saw the doctor uncover the tray and there was a long instrument on it. The doctor said he was going to have a look inside my bottom and that it would just take a few seconds. I was throwing a fit and doctor told the nurse to get assistance. She briefly left and returned with another nurse. Between the two nurses and my mom they held me relatively still while he performed the exam. I really don't remember what it felt like but I cried the whole time. When he was done he told mom everything looked OK and gave me a talk about the importance of going poop every day.

I did it much time. I dont know since when, but I do remember everytime my father comes to my room with black bag (contains stetoschope, alcohol swab, needles n syringes, etc) I would going to cry n run away. My mom will catch me so I cant move as long as my father examined me.

But sometimes my parents took me to the only one pediatrician in town. He is known for the hurt and long time shot. I think it was penicillin shot.

I will kick, cry aloud, try to run from the examination table. But usually, it was useless. I will be held by many adult people (I dont know how many people hold me down the table who can see me bare bottom) to received shot in my bum.

Yes!, I posted in another thread. I was 7, during a doctor's visit, I remeber being on the exam table doc wanted to take my temp I fought it and git a cold glass thermomter jammed up my bumbum then was stripped down. That was so embarassing and humimiating. Only good thing was no shots during that particular visit.

I have a friend who was tricked into going or basically forced by her mother at a young age. Her mother was afraid she would get pregnant. She wasn't even having sex at the time. Her mother went in with her. When she was told to get undressed and she saw the stirrups out she knew. It was a family doctor who did it. Her mother told her that it would not hurt a bit. She told me that it was painful and she felt her hymen tear. She said she was fighting as best she could but her mother and a nurse were holding her. But after I guess you could say her mothers plan backfired. She started having sex and forgot her pills and got pregnant.

I never fought in a physical, I was very anxious when I had them but I knew that I was going to have one no matter what.

But I remember when I was 7 (I don't remember exactly and the details are fuzzy) that I went to the hospital through ER, I had some kind of illness and I needed to get a shot. I fought with all my forces, but in the end the nurses and my father could hold me and I got it on my ass. It hurts really much.

In kindergarten it was explained to me that I had to take my clothes off to be weighed accurately. It made sense. Shots were a tougher obstacle, much like the temperature taken in my bum. My panties were taken off and there I was naked. Children have an innate aversion to exam rooms perhaps because of the strange furniture or the appearance of doctor's themselves. Stethescopes looked ominous st first but eventually I came to learn their use caused me no harm. By repeating the examination process over years I gradually accepted them, willingly doffing my duds.