From bad manners to speculum trouble, readers share doctor horror stories

It was supposed to be a routine doctor's appointment. "I'm going to write a prescription for a hydrocortisone cream, and let's hope it knocks out your eczema," my dermatologist said. I sighed gratefully and looked down at my fingers, red and raw from all the scrubbing that came from caring for the world's most prolific infant pooper. "Because if it doesn't," the doctor continued, "it could be a sign of something far more serious."

With that, she snapped my chart shut and left the room, but her words continued to echo in my mind. Something far more serious. I felt my stomach begin to churn. Something FAR more serious.

As I drove home, I pictured the headline on my obituary. "Beloved Mother Dies of Eczema." Told husband days earlier itching was killing her, the subtitle would read. I stopped and picked up my prescription, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't do any good. It was time to say goodbye to my family, crawl into bed, and wait to die.

By the next day, though, my eczema was practically gone. The cream had done its job, so I reluctantly left my (quite comfortable) deathbed in order to rejoin the living and empty the dishwasher.

Everybody has a bad doctor story.

Mine generally involve doomsday doctors like the dermatologist, who mete out clinical descriptions that send me running to review my Last Will and Testament. But while my stories are bad, many of yours are far worse. I asked Suburban Turmoil blog readers for bad doctor stories and received a flood of email responses. The majority of them involved obstetricians and gynecologists, which isn't surprising. When hoo-has are involved, there are bound to be issues.

There was Marsha, who visited a gynecologist for the first time when she was a 14-year-old virgin.

"I told him I had difficult, painful periods," she wrote. "He begins to scream at me that I'm just one of those whoring teenagers who just wants him to give her birth control pills. Sobbing, I deny this. He then begins to shout at me, 'How many abortions have you had? I can tell by the condition of your *&#$ that you've had several!' He stalks out. I get dressed and leave and cry all the way home."

Traumatized, Marsha didn't go to a gynecologist again until she was married. She was relieved to learn from her new doctor that her girl bits were completely normal.

Then there was Sara, whose horror story started when her new young gynecologist couldn't remove the speculum after her annual exam was over.

"My doctor called a different doctor in who wiggled and messed with it," she recounted. "Then a nurse practitioner was called in, then a PA. After much wiggling, someone (at this point I don't know who, because I was staring at the ceiling praying for death) managed to get the damn thing unscrewed, closed and out of me. Everyone files out of the room, leaving just me and the doctor I had started out with. 'Well, that was...fun?' she says."

Reader Danny had the nerve to ask her new obstetrician a few questions about his delivery practices. His response was direct, to say the least. "I've delivered over 3,500 babies," he told her. "You don't call a plumber and then tell him how to turn the monkey wrench."

Okay then!

Pediatricians also ranked high on the list of complaints. One anonymous reader's story was simple:

"Twenty minutes after I had my only child, and learning, to my complete surprise, that he had Down syndrome, the staff pediatrician on call in the hospital (a stranger) looked at me as I was delivering the placenta and said, 'Well, you are 32, so you see why he has this,' " she wrote. "No words for the anger or horror."

Reader Lisa got the tackiest doctor award, for what happened after her mother suffered a debilitating stroke.

"The doctor came in and gave us the grim prognosis," she wrote. "Mom would probably not survive this; if she did, she would be an invalid, etc. Naturally, we were all upset, and grieving the loss of our mom.

"In a few minutes, the doctor comes back into the room, with a large box, filled with white purses of various styles. Then, the doctor announces that his store in town is having a 50 percent sale on purses, and he thought we might be interested."Now that, my friends, is a bad doctor.

Of course, there's a lesson here, and it's one I learned the hard way. If you don't like your doctor, get a new one.

Now that I have the world's most wonderful OB/GYN, I have to wonder why I wasted years going to one who had all the personality of an Old Navy mannequin. These days, my husband and I research doctors like we would any major investment. After all, the decision could eventually mean the difference between life and death. Or at least between a problem-free exam and one involving a speculum jammed in your nether lands.

I still get shivers just thinking about that one.

Read more Suburban Turmoil at www.suburbanturmoil.com.