A couple of years ago, I went in for a dreaded gynecological exam. I don't know one solitary woman who doesn't hate those.
I was lying there on the table in that awkward gown with my butt showing when the doctor came in and said, "Would you mind an intern performing parts of the exam today?"
"That would be alright."
The doctor waited for the nurse and then began to do his thing down there. It was uncomfortable, as always, but he was quick and for that I was grateful. He left without doing a breast exam. I figured that was for the intern to do.
The door opened and a tall, very young looking boy wearing a white coat entered the room.
My God, I knew that kid!
"Yeah, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Man, I'll never forget that whitewater rafting trip with Tom."
Chad was in the scouts when Tom was the troop leader. I couldn't believe it! I was beyond mortified. I kept thinking he couldn't be more than fourteen, but there he was. And he was walking toward me, hands extended.
He shifted my examination gown and started kneading my right breast, checking for lumps, and all the while he kept calling me "Sister C*****". He told me how much he liked the beef jerky I used to make and send on scout trips. I wanted the earth to split open under me and swallow me whole. I was too shocked to tell him to go away. I just waited until he was finished, put on my clothes and got the hell out of there. No checking out. No making an appointment for the next exam. Just running out.
At the time, I thought it couldn't have been worse. But I was wrong. He could have been wearing his Scout uniform.