as children, my brother and i rarely went to the doctor unless it was to get the scheduled developmental innoculations. my parents did not believe in medicating a hiccup and preferred to expose us to germs ("go outside and play with the snail slime until you get sick") to develop a teflon-like immunity.
the few times these excursions did happen it was usually for something either fun (having my ears syringed), or something bloody awful (having my verrucas frozen off with dry ice). for a short time (ha, bad pun) they were concerned that i was not growing (my mother is about 5'3, and dad is about 5'5), so i was hooked up to a tread mill for half an hour, had my blood drawn, sent off for inspection and the result was....i was short. and going to remain that way.
unlike a lot of people i loved going to the dentist, well, i was related to him so that helps with the hyperventilating and seizure shaking fear. i got "rides" in the chair, played with the 'spit suck cup', amassed a collection of stickers with smiling teeth, had a permanent pink tongue from the plaque tablets, and acquired several syringes to take home and have water fights with my brother.
the optician was another story. i transferred the universal phobia of the dentist to the eye doctor. i was ashamed that i coudlnt read the top letter through the heavy metal frames, circa tudor england. if i was this myopic at 9 i would certainly be blind by the time i hit my reproductive years (i'm still hanging on, on both counts).
as a semi-adult i have continued to maintain an 'avoid at all costs' approach to doctor's offices. i have not broken any bones, although did start undergrad with a full length cast on when i dislocated my knee cap, and had my wisdom teeth removed a couple of years ago. fortunately my story is not the gruesome slasher horror that others have experienced. but i know the dentist.