We arrived at the ward about nine in the morning. As usual, both Rod (that’s Dr. Rodney Thomas) and I were dressed in doctor’s whites, and with his “Sigmund Freud” hair, and I with my graying temples certainly looked the part of wise, benevolent medical men.
This morning we planned to greet a new arrival at the hospital, a teenage girl of eighteen who was being brought in by her mother admitted for “observation”. Her name was Diana, and Rod told me that she was an uncommonly pretty girl. Rod informed me that in preliminary examination of the girl he had found little wrong with her except for some nervous colitis, which is a minor irritation of the colon normally cured with a mild diet and some tranquilizers.
Finding the cause of the emotional upset is usually more important than any medical treatment, and frequently is of a family origin, or perhaps a difficult school situation. Rarely, if treated properly, is mild colitis a serious affliction. In Diana’s case Rod indicated it was only a temporary problem, but it allowed him to arrange a particularly convenient situation.
Diana and her mother arrived promptly at 9:30 and were told at the admitting office, after signing in, that the “doctors” would meet them in the semi-private room reserved previously. Rod, of course, knew my personal tastes, and this even surpassed my own imaginings.
A nurse led the girl and her mother into the room where Rod and I had arrived only a few seconds before. Diana was about five feet two inches tall, with straight blond hair falling to the middle of her back. She was utterly fair, and even though she was wearing jeans and a sweater I could tell that she was not only delightfully slim, but perfectly proportioned. A beautiful young girl on the edge of adolescence.
She looked around with the typical child-woman curiosity a girl her age always seems to possess. Her mother, a woman of about thirty-five was also most attractive, but it was the girl that held my undivided attention. She carried a small overnight case and held her jacket over her arm.
Rod greeted the mother warmly and with his practiced manner reassured her that Diana’s visit to the hospital would be a short one, exuding confidence in his ability to effect a rapid diagnosis and cure (which, of course, he had already accomplished.)
“Nurse,” Rod directed, “Let’s get Diana into a gown and into bed. I want to start as soon as possible…” he waved in my direction… “Dr. Thomas, my esteemed colleague, will be heading back to Beverly Hills soon and I value his assistance in this case.”
“Come, Diana,” the nurse cooed professionally as she pulled the white curtain along one edge of the bed, thereby blocking the view from the door, but not from us, on the opposite side, next to the second bed which was at the moment unoccupied. As Rod continued to talk to the mother, the nurse brought out the short, white, hospital gown with its ties at the back.
“Let’s just take our clothes off, now, and slip into this,” the nurse directed. I wondered if the nurse was going to disrobe as well, but dismissed the statement as mere rhetoric. Nurse talk. The ubiquitous “we.”
Rod turned to the nurse. “It’s a little chilly, nurse, so Diana should keep her socks and panties on until the room warms up. Turn the thermostat up to 80 degrees Fahrenheit, please.”
I tried to look nonchalant as Diana, with obvious embarrassment kicked off her loafers, unbuttoned her jeans and stepped out of them, revealing an incredibly beautiful pair of smooth, long legs. Next came the sweater. She had partially turned her back to us and we noted that she wore nothing under the sweater. Still, it was obvious that she was about a third of the way through puberty, and her breasts were still those of a young girl rather than those of a woman.
Rod, fingering the stethoscope which had been casually stuffed in a pocket of his coat, was answering a question Diana’s mother had asked. “We’re going to give Diana several… enemas… to remove anything that might be a physical cause of the inflammation, and then a Murphy Drip with a mild Valium solution for a couple of hours to relax the colon. In the morning I think she’ll be a ‘new girl’.”
Diana’s mother understood the first part, but she had to ask, “What’s a… a.. Murphy Drip, Doctor?”
Rod, relishing the scene, in which he (and I by association) were the experts, lectured, “An eighteen inch (French) colon tube will be slowly and carefully inserted into Diana’s rectum, threaded high up into her colon, and a very slowly injected solution of saline and Valium will be administered literally drip by drip, allowing the body to absorb about a pint of solution. It was named for Dr. Murphy, “(and now fibbing wildly), “who specialized in treating young girls much like your daughter, Diana. He also discovered that sometimes young girls suffer from so much unrelieved sexual tension upon entering puberty that the nervous frustration caused severe upsets and cramping resulting in a condition exactly like that which we see in Diana.”
He leaned close so that the nurse and the child could not hear. “In grown women you know that a psychiatrist or psychologist could simply recommend she consider a vigorous lover, or, if that’s not possible, daily masturbation, but with a young girl,” he paused, checking the blush now forming on the mother’s face, “we could hardly advise that…” Looking straight into the mother’s eyes he softly asked, “Do you think that Diana masturbates?”
“I.. I… really… Don’t… I mean…” she stammered.
“Well,” Rod soothed in his most oily tone, “I don’t think so, because it would probably have relieved whatever tension she might have had in that sense… but,” he glanced at me, “Dr. Thomas and I will examine her thoroughly. An experienced doctor can tell by the appearance of a girl’s vagina and clitoris if she is an habitual masturbator. In any event, her psychological reactions usually give them away. Isn’t that your experience, too, Dr. Thomas?”
I tried to look professionally detached, but with a slim girl standing behind me being bow-tied into a gown that barely came to the top of her thighs, it was difficult, to say the least. “That’s right, Dr. Thomas,” I confirmed.
Rod placed his hand on Diana’s mother’s shoulder in his most comforting manner and continued, “Now you just go home and relax, Mrs. Johnson, Diana’s going to be in very good hands.” He nodded knowingly at me, and I of course, nodded back approvingly.
“Nurse,” Rod firmly requested, “would you please show Mrs. Johnson out? Dr. Thomas and I will start the examination. I know you have many other duties this morning, so it will be all right if you send Cynthia, the new “Candy Striper,” to assist us. “Have her bring the “welcome wagon” with the four-quart enema bag, an eighteen inch colonic tube, and the Murphy Drip valve and bag.”
“Very well, Doctor. I’ll send her right in.”
Turning back at the door, Diana’s mother said, “Be good, now, honey, “ Mrs. Johnson kissed her daughter on the forehead.
“Be sure you do everything the doctors tell you. I’ll be back tomorrow at visiting time.”
“I… I will, mom,” the girl sniffed, a tear welling up in the corner of her lovely blue eyes. And mom was gone.
The “Candy Striper”, Cynthia, arrived pushing the famous “welcome wagon” with its assortment of coiled red rubber tubes, irrigation can, huge four-quart red rubber bag, rectal and vaginal dilators, douche and enema nozzles, and several blue, white, and red tubes of KY jelly. I even saw a inflatable nozzle catheter and wondered…
Also to be found were boxes of finger cots which resembled limp contraceptives, and some sheer latex gloves. Green soap in packets of powder, salt, and even a small container of reagent grade turpentine were visible. A digital thermometer fitted with an ear- piece, and some glass oral and rectal thermometers in their steel capped sterilizing jar, swimming in what was probably as 10-15 percent solution of Nonoxonol-9 (although really not yet approved by the FDA as a viricide, everybody knew it killed any microbe it encountered, whether bacterial, fungal or viral in nature. Potent stuff. Perhaps if more people used it in a nice slippery suspension for sexual encounters we might even have a fighting chance at limiting the spread of HIV.)
The “Welcome Wagon” was, indeed, an ominous display of medical paraphernalia.
Diana, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watched the trolley being pushed into the room by a girl only four years older than herself. “What… what.. are you going to do?” she looked questioningly first at me, then Rod.
“Like I told your mother, we’re going to give you several high enemas, and then a sort of a liquid tranquilizer to relax your system.” Rod indicated the young girl standing next to the trolley, “This is Cindy, and she’s going to assist us in your treatment.”
“Is… is it going to… hurt?” Diana’s eyes were wide.
It shouldn’t, if you cooperate and do exactly as you’re told. But if you resist, or struggle, it will be very uncomfortable, and we may even have to use restraints.
“Oh, I’ll try, Doctor.” Diana said.
“Cindy” Rod called without turning.
“I want to start with a two quart enema of hot water and soapsuds. Use only one packet of green soap, and use the four quart bag. We’ll be increasing the volume.”
“I’ve… never assisted with the “welcome wagon” before. This is my first week on the service. Do you want me to get another ‘striper’ for you?”
Rod turned towards me and smiled. “Give her a hand, Tom, she’s got to learn sometime.” He glanced at the embarrassed Cindy. “Have you ever even had an enema yourself, Cindy?”
“I.. I… no, Doctor, but I want to learn!”
“We’ll see to that, won’t we, Doctor!” Rod said to me.
After we’re through here perhaps we should give Cindy some first hand knowledge. After all, she’s going to be on ‘welcome wagon’ duty quite regularly, and she should really be well trained in the subject, Don’t you think?”
I could hardly give a negative answer, for it seemed that I would witness perhaps not one, but two ‘patients’ that morning.
Rod, meanwhile, was at the side of the hospital bed. “It’s time to take your panties, off, Diana, just lift up your bottom a little - that’s right - we’ll just slip them right off…” Slowly he pulled the girl’s tight nylon panties down her long legs, and then off, one ankle at a time. Diana started to tug the short gown, to try to conceal her girlish nakedness, but to no avail. The bottom hem of the gown came only to the top of her vaginal slit, barely displaying the first signs of the pubic hair which would soon be more profuse as her journey through adolescence progressed.
Rod took note: “Well, Diana, it looks like you’re starting puberty… but you’re lucky there’s so little hair, just that tiny fringe on the top -.nothing at all yet around the vaginal lips or we’d have to have our young nurse here shave it all off!” I noted Cindy’s eyes widen. Obviously there was more to this than she imagined.
Diana covered her eyes with her arm. “Oh, Doctor, really? I mean do you really shave a girl if she has… hair…down there?”
“Absolutely, Diana. Sometimes there are germs in the pubic hair, but mostly it interferes with the examination we’re going to do of your vagina and clitoris! You understand, don’t you?”
“I - I guess, so, doctor, but it’s so, so …embarrassing.”
He put his hand reassuringly on the girl’s naked thigh, quite high, but fingers not quite touching her childlike pudenda. I was impressed with his reassuring manner.
Rod, addressing the nervous young candy-striper said, “First we’ll take Diana’s temperature. Do you have the new digital one there?” Cindy rummaged a bit and handed him one with the fitted ear-piece sensor.
“Almost, Cindy, but I prefer to take a girl’s temperature rectally, so I’ll need the rectal attachment…there… in the container you found this. It looks like a rather long black hard- rubber enema nozzle but has a thin rubber tube, with a wire inside, really, attached which will plug into the hand-held part.
She rummaged a bit and produced the desired item.
“Yes. I’ll have you hold the display and read off the numbers as we proceed. Good practice for you!”
“Is this what you want, doctor? I have the standard glass rectal units right here.”
“No, thank you, Cindy. I rarely use them anymore, but they should always be a sterile standby in the home. I always tell the parents to take their children’s temperature rectally. Much better for diagnosis.”
She handed him a slim black probe about six inches long, with a pronounced bulge on one end, and a circular shield about four inches from the bulge. The remaining length was obviously a handle, with a tube-like connector attached. While he was attaching the sensor wire to the battery/display unit he lectured Diana and Cindy both. “I find that the rectal temperature is far more accurate, and once the sensor is in place it is not easily dislodged and the readings can be repeated or continually read if necessary. See how the end of the sensor has this little bulge? That’s so it stays in. The sphincter is quite a powerful muscle. For example, I could use my stethoscope, or palpitate your abdomen, and see your temperature all at the same time. And I always use it when I give a young girl a pelvic exam as it immediately indicates her reactions to the stimulus in immediately obvious temperature changes.”
I watched both girls carefully, and felt that Cindy might be the more nervous of the two, and for good reason : she knew what was coming. Rod continued, “This special attachment is something I personally invented. I call it the ‘Digital-cali-rectalometer’.” He smiled, enjoying his position as tutor. Diana was wide eyed, her youthful mind absorbing every word. (I felt for a moment she was so attentive that she almost forgot her totally exposed state.)
“Not only does it perform its function with computer-like speed,” he continued, “but there is a small heating element which brings it to about 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Why should a lovely young girl like you or Diana here be subjected to what I call the “cold nose” syndrome?”
To Cynthia : “Don’t you remember when you were little, getting your temperature taken with what seemed at the time an icicle? No fun, what?” He smiled, knowingly, as the candy-striper’s blush formed a silent but affirmative acknowledgment. He looked around briefly. “Obviously, for septic reasons, we must first place a sterile, disposable sheath on the Digital-cali-rectalometer. There, in the container are some individually packaged DCR covers. Look like stiff little penis splints, don’t they?” He said simply.
I suppressed a smile at his perhaps unknowing attempt at humor. Glancing at Diana I saw her avert her eyes. She knew what a little penis was, all right!
Slipping and locking the sterile sheath in place he turned to his task. Cindy and I noted that the sheaths were packed in a K-Y/Nonoxonol jelly blend, which made additional lubrication unnecessary.
Somehow Rod remembered where he had been before the thermometer question came up, and said, “Never mind all that talk about shaving, Diana, you’re fine the way you are. Just turn over on your tummy, then get up on your knees… that’s right, you must keep you bottom well up in the air as I prepare you. If you fold your arms on the bed and keep your head right down it’ll be much easier.”
Diana, now in the “knee-chest” position, looked apprehensively behind her, as she felt Rod’s hand gently separate her slim legs. Her almost hairless vaginal pouch pushed back, the tiny rosebud of her rectum painfully visible. Rod said to the young “candy striper”, “Now Cynthia, pay close attention while I slip on this latex finger cot and prepare our young patient here for her first enema.
“I’m putting some K-Y jelly on my finger and now will work it very slowly around Diana’s anus, and when I feel the sphincter muscle begin to respond I will gently insert my finger into her rectum and move it very gently in and out for a moment to be sure she is becoming relaxed. The sphincter muscle that surrounds Diana’s anus is a very good indicator of her mental state, and her positive acceptance of this treatment. And, the DRC and enema nozzles will go in much more easily if a girl is prepared properly.”
Diana started to squirm uncomfortably at the touch of Dr. Rod’s latex clad index finger on her naked bottom. But when he began to work his slippery digit right into her rectum she cried, “Oh, Doctor, OOhhhhhhh, please…..” Not exactly in protest, but more an involuntary reaction to the male finger now invading her where she had never felt man’s finger (or for that matter, any finger) before.
Rod, I could tell, was very attracted to Cynthia, the candy striper watching in a state of awe and excitement, and I suspected, correctly, that he would make her perform a similar preparation, perhaps on a boy near her own age, in the general ward, and watch her reaction to the almost automatic erection which a young boy gets when his prostate is massaged by a female finger (actually, by any finger, but it feels better when a girl does it).
Slowly, his finger slipped into Diana’s youthful rectum, now meeting little resistance to the almost somatic rhythm about to be perpetrated. In, and out, and in and out. Diana involuntarily worked her buttocks higher to meet each smooth, ever deeper, assault to the girl’s higher emotional brain functions and baser physical levels.
I glanced at Cynthia, noting an involuntary licking of her lips and glassy-eyed-gaze which made her light blue eyes take on an unnatural shine. Her long eyelashes fluttered most attractively, I thought. What a tease she will be for the teen age boys who are no-doubt already lusting after her taut, teen aged body. Back to Diana, head down, bottom up, and moaning softly, “OH, DOCTOR,” or something like that.
Yet, too soon to my liking, but in time to divert a possible case of premature ejaculation on my part, Rod withdrew his finger, and, peeling off the latex finger cot, said “Hand me the DRC, Cynthia, and watch closely.”
He took the now heated probe, poised above Diana’s pulsating pudenda and prodded, pushing…
“It’s so warm, doctor,” Diana moaned as it slipped into her nether orifice. “You’re right… It’s much better than the cold… OHhhhhhhh”
Cynthia and I crowded close, seeing the DRC now firmly imbedded in Diana’s rectum; the bulge, having passed the anal sphincter, holding the device quite reliably in place.
“Well, Cindy, what’s the reading…”
“Ninety-eight point eight, Doctor…”
“You see… Immediate readings. I’m going to leave it in place for the next phase: the vulvo-vaginal examination, after which we’ll have Cindy here give this lovely girl the first of her high enemas!”