Visit To An English Doctor

In the early nineties, I found myself in England for a year on a research fellowship. As part of fulfilling the visitors visa procedure, one must pass one’s local residence information to the police and register with the National Health Service (NHS). The stop at the police was easy. They wanted finger prints, and a picture.

The registration procedure with the NHS was unexpected. One is assigned a GP and asked to report at an assigned time. Like most institutions in England, I thought that the visit would merely entail filling out some forms and perhaps answering a questionnaire about my health. Owing to stretched budgets, health assessment would be out of the question, I had thought.

That supposition turned out to be very wrong. The surgery was located in a converted two up two down brick attached house. The nurse invited me to the cold damp sitting room where three others waited. I was the last on the list and the doctor was running forty five minutes behind. The typical visit with the doctor takes fifteen minutes at a NHS practice. When the time came, I was ushered into the doctors office, and asked to fill out registration papers. It seemed that three patients were being seen at the same time in the several examination rooms.

The nurse escorted me to their laboratory, where a blood sample was taken, and urine was collected. The nurse asked me to urinate in front of her, because she did not want me to substitute some body else’s urine to test for drugs. Penis in hand I peed into her cup. Mildly embarrassing, she did not appear phased. I wrongly thought that the English were a private culture. We proceeded to their physiological testing laboratory. There I was asked to remove my shirt. They wanted blood pressure, EKG, spirometry, and a test on the tread mill. Blood oxygen was measured by a finger spectrophotometer, heart with the EKG electrodes, respiration by a breathing tube, and temperature by a probe placed up my rectum. The nurse asked me to drop my shorts when upon she applied KY and a pencil shaped device with a wire. I only had to expose my butt. I was instructed to pull up my shorts and buckle my trousers. Then I got on the machine and began to walk, then run until sufficient stress was placed on my heart. All of the transducers were removed except the rectal thermistor, which was stimulating when I walked.

A full neurological exam was performed fully clothed. Another blood pressure followed by weight and height. Now back in the doctors office, I was asked to undress down to my undershorts, when the elderly doctor entered. He inquired about my health. I complained of a racing heart, a bit of groin pain, and itchy anus. On his table he listened to my lungs and heart, palpated my thyroid, arteries, checked the joints, and repeated reflexes. Liver, kidneys, and visceral organs were next. Then came the dreaded genital exam so I thought. Instead, he pulled the waist band of my shorts down to expose the pubic bone, but not far enough to see all of my penis. He stuck his finger into my groin to measure my femoral pulse and removed the thermistor, which kept me erect. No check on my prick or hernia or rectal exam, I thought that the ordeal was over, I began to dress and leave. I surmised that the English were a shy bunch, who were embarrassed by below the waist exams. That was fine with me.

The doctor left saying that the nurse would attend to me next. She took me to another room with an examination table, toilet, and shower. This I had never seen before. She said that the doctor was going to examine my colon with a sigmoidoscope. In the states a flexible fiber optics tube with illuminator is inserted into one’s anus, and three or so feet of one’s colon is viewed and recorded on tape. This means that the colon and rectum must be clear of material. In England, the procedure is abbreviated. They insert an inch diameter stainless steel tube to the sigmoid bend, about a foot, and stare inside as they withdraw. The nurse instructed me to remove my trousers and underpants. I said to myself, ‘Oh the doctor does not want a glimpse of my endowment, but the nurse does.’

Then I was asked to lean on the table. My legs dangling, my torso was tilted downwards, and by butt up. I could tell that water was running in the sink. Looking over, the nurse was mixing soap and salt with the water. She proceeded to fill three two quart bags. The bags were hung on a stand, and a tube connected. The rubber gloves went on and out came the KY. Once again my anus and rectum were being well lubricated; on which my limp member was taking on some life.

Never having had an enema, I did not know what to expect. The nurse inserted the tube, turned the tap, and in the water went. Most nurses I am told, just leave the tube in until all of the fluid passes through. This nurse rotated the tube about my anus for the entire time, as if to use the end as a wan to stroke my prostate. The palpation stimulated a huge erection, which put me on the fine line to near orgasm. There was pre-cum but no cum. Then she withdrew the tube, and my mind returned to retaining the fluid. When I could no longer, I was told to expel into the toilet. My prick was still hard, which I am sure the nurse viewed. I was much relieved when the water was no longer in me. Loosing my hard-on, I was told to mount the table twice again for a repeat procedure, and up and down my penis went, the last time that her tube was brushing my prostate, I thought that I would salivate. In the end, she took me to the shower where with a high intensity jet of water she cleaned my anus and all of the drippings. She was careful not to aim at my penis, but expertly cleaned my testicles, which again produced a huge erection. I thought that no relief was insight.

Handing me a towel, I was told to dry off and put on a hospital gown with booties. I was escorted into another room with a tilting table and a display of the tubes that were used for examining the colon. The doctor came in and asked me to mount the table, torso down and butt up, once again. This time he put on the gloves and did the most thorough rectal exam I ever had. Then he used a small tube to examine my rectum. He found hemorrhoids, that only needed Preparation H, which I already knew. The English are petrified about prostate cancer. As a result, my prostate, already sensitive, got palpated thoroughly, which put my prick into a very hard state. Next came the big tube, which looked like it would split my anus wide open. This was the first time that anything that big was put in, and the last that I recall. I cannot even get my girl friend to palpate my prostate with her finger. He lubricated the tube, and expertly inserted it, with surprisingly little pain. With lights and mirrors he examined my lower colon. Much to my amazement I lost my erection, in fact my penis shriveled as it does when I am out swimming in cold water.

Finished with that the tube was withdrawn and that exam was done. He adjusted his electrically operated table to allow me to assume a normal posture. I thought for sure that I was done, and turning to put some clothes on, he said that he wanted to examine my genitals and test for a hernia. He dimmed the lights and shined a light through my testicles and felt all of the tubes and parts. Then he did the cough test. Lastly, he began palpating my prick from top to bottom. Fortunately I was not embarrassed. He squeezed the tip to check the opening, and found it red. Finding swelling in one of the seminal vesicles, the doctor said that he would have to examine the sperm.

I was wondering if I was going to have to perform in front of him, not something I looked forward to. He asked me if I would be comfortable with masturbating to generate the sample or have it produced electrically. I had heard that bulls are milked for samples electrically, and thought that if I was going to have to get it off in the doctors office, that a hands off approach could be a new and possibly refreshing pleasure.

The doctor asked me to lie on my back on the exam table and place my feet in the stirrups. There I was with my butt hanging off of the end of the table like a woman about to receive a gynecological exam, fully exposed. The nurse grabbed my penis, which was at half mast, to clean it with a paper towel with alcohol. Next she inserted a swab with cotton on the end, into my urethra, apparently to clean that tube. Next three straps with Velcro closures were produced all attached to wires. Paste was smeared over my penis just back of the glans to the base and all over my balls. This procedure produced a super hard-on. The first strap was wrapped around both of my testicles, fairly tight at that, not uncomfortable. The next was placed around the base of my penis and the last was connected just behind the head where the frenulum is located, quite a sensitive part of my member. Then she stuck a small bag about the head. The bag had a draw string, and the nurse knew just how much pressure to apply to allow the semen to pass.

At that point I thought that they would turn on the juice. Not so. A three-quarter of an inch L shaped probe about the lengths of a pencil was lubricated with the paste, and inserted into my anus. Now the electricity was applied. At first, there were waves passing from the end of the penis progressing to the base and then to the balls. It seemed that the frequency was high, because the sensation was tingling. In the next mode, the base of the L probe was being rubbed against my prostate. Lower frequency waves propagated from the prostate internally to the end on my penis. I was beginning to salivate to the waves of energy being applied, better than the best blow job I had ever received. The frequency was lowered as my penis began to twitch. It seemed that a second frequency was separately applied to my balls, which responded by contracting.

I was left in that state for what felt like hours, with blue balls. Then finally I exploded content with great relief. The doctor let my penis relax before removing the collection sack. The sample was placed in a warm container. The nurse withdrew the probe, and the straps. She used the alcohol containing towel to clean me, which left a refreshing sensation. I was told that I could dress, and fill out paperwork.

Their office called several days later saying that if the swelling did not go down that I should return. The problem went away, and toward the end of my stay in England the swelling returned. I had it checked and to my delight they wanted another sample. I have never had such pleasure in a doctor’s office since, and wonder why the American medical community does not use such treatment. I think that the next time I am in England, I will complain about the problem even if it does not exist.