I was in the hospital for observation and physical therapy for a muscle condition I have. My doctor decided to hospitalize me for tests and observation. As I also had 2 separate orthopedic injuries, I would have tests in the morning and physical therapy in the afternoon. I was in there a total of 25 days.

I got to know one nurse quite well. Her name was Darbie. Well, Nurse Darbie to you. She was a very commanding type of person, as most nurses are. She was my “primary care nurse” who coordinated all my activities at the hospital. She was the one who checked me in. She was the one who made sure my condition & vital signs, or vitals (temperature, pulse, respiration, and sometimes blood pressure, BP) were done and charted. All progress or lack of was duly noted. By the end of the first week we got to know each other so well, that when she came in on her day off to pick up her pay check and oversee some prescriptions she stopped in to visit. I was flattered. But I also thought it odd that a professional person would get that personally involved.

I got to know her and found that she had undergone a divorce a year ago and was still living alone, refusing to pick up the first man that came along for a roommate and bed partner.

“Lois, I want to be happy. Not desperate. I’ve never lived alone before. It’s freedom. When I’m tired of it, Mr. Right will present himself.”

“That’s an uplifting philosophy”, I told her.

Then she went on to tell me that her sister who was younger than her by 15 years, and had lived with her for a couple of months had recently died in a car accident. She was only 23, just out of nursing school and she passed her RN licensure exam with flying colors. They worked together here for over a year. Everyone loved her. Darbie loved taking care of her, bringing her along in the profession. Having her for a roommate was wonderful after the divorce.

When she came back to work, first thing she did after report was come to my room and tell me what would transpire that day. She checked my vitals. Unfortunately, I needed regular enemas from spending so much time in bed with not enough exercise. And I had to have rectal temps done. It was embarrassing to have my Number One Fan seeing me like this, from an anal point of view!! He He. But I got over it. Sometimes I felt too sick to care about being embarrassed. She started giving me a back rub in the afternoon, between therapy and dinner, so I could rest up and feel like eating my meal. Then, if she happened to be near the hospital she would check in about 7 or 8 to see if I needed anything and look at my chart. She normally works 7-3 shift.

She told me, “I was offered the position of head nurse, but I don’t want to be a manager for the hospital or a cost accountant for the patient’s insurance companies. I want to do patient care. That’s what I was trained to do. When my son is in college in 5 years, I’ll be 43, maybe then I’ll take them up on the promotion. But I doubt it. It pays more, but I really love making sure people get the care they come in here for.” Or something like that, is how her story goes.

One night she looks at my chart and says, “Oops the evening nurse hasn’t charted for you this shift. I’ll check you myself and chart it.” Coming back with an electronic rectal thermometer, she put a plastic sheath on the probe and gently turned me on my side.

“Lets have you draw your knees towards your chest. OK, good.” She put a dab of lube on my abused anus and inserted the probe. As it rested there, she noted my pulse and respiration rate. My temp was l/2 degree over. So she told the night nurse to make sure temps were done and charted on time, I might be heading for a bone infection. If not, I may be elevated from fatigue. It was also close to my period I told her, and that tends to raise a temp.

After 10 days I was doing pretty well. She turned me on my tummy one night and did a back rub. Then covered my back with a sheet, exposed my legs and rubbed them. Soon I was so drowsy, I didn’t need my sleeper (sleeping pill) She pushed up the gown and finished my massage by rubbing my buttocks exquisitely. She asked me if my temperature always elevated when my period was due. I told her it seemed like it, as I always feel too warm then.

“I’m going to do an oriental massage move, called…… called, oh, I forget the term for it, but basically its an internal massage. Now take a few deep breaths and relax your bottom for me Lois. This will help you relax your back, and may diminish your need for enemas and laxatives. Its a problem people with MS have, even mild MS like you have. By the way, internal massage is highly recommended for pregnant women in the last month of pregnancy. Because their tummy is so big , they can’t bend forward to stretch the spine. So it feels more tired and achy. This is a way to prevent that problem. Some women like sodomy during this time, and at no other time ever again! <grin> A deep dark subject, but, true. A penis is the perfect fit. Much larger than a finger…..wider, longer, so……a more thorough job. But lots of women don’t care for this. Rather taboo. Can be painful! But not to a kind and experienced man. And also, a good old fashioned orgasm, vaginal or rectal, is good for tension in the muscles and back pain too.”

I looked over my shoulder at her to see if she was keeping a straight face. She was. I was feeling embarrassed and wondered if she was just telling me this cuz she thought I had a cute butt. Why she would want to “molest” me was foreign to me. I realized her recent loss of a husband and sister could have provoked it. But I put this aside feeling because ‘she’s a professional nurse, let her do her job, I may feel better.’ Even my husband told me, “Don’t try to second guess the nurse. She knows what to do. Be good for the nice nurse.” <smile>

OK, so I said to myself, this reminds me of when we were kids and we would play doctor. They were always shoving something up my ass and handling me all the time. I chuckled inwardly and tried to relax for her.

She came back with KY lube, “Never use Vaseline, its too sticky and you can have pain during penetration. Plus it’s just down right messy to clean up.<grin> Am I being too frank with you? If so I’m sorry. You don’t have to have this procedure if you don’t feel OK with it.”

“No, go ahead and do what I need to have done. I’m in here for therapy. I want to get well. I hope to be better off when I leave.”, I confided to Nurse Darbie. Not to mention the fact that I hadn’t had intercourse with my husband in a month. I felt quite horny. I just hoped I could disguise an orgasm if need be!! No need in further embarrassing myself. As I recalled I had seen this maneuver in a massage book my roommate had when I was single. I couldn’t believe it then. I guess I did now.

She clipped her finger nail so as not to hurt my tender bottom. Washed her hands. Lubed me up. Her finger circled my dark anal ring and when it relaxed, she penetrated me. And began a slow thorough massage and touching of every square millimeter of my rectal passage. I was wondering how deep she would go, then I saw that her fingers were small, about the same size as mine. I soon found it a somewhat titillating.

“Some people, particularly males, find this will lead them to orgasm. So if you get to that point, let me know if you need a little rest break. For whatever reason.” Kindly spoken as always.

I felt my low back relax and pain dissolved. I wondered how far she would go. (“Act decent!” I scolded myself.) I began to sweat a little. My forehead was dotted with it.

“Are you OK? Tell me if I’m hurting you Dear. I don’t note any fissures or hemorrhoids. No bleeding. You seem to be doing just fine. Ahhh….. that’s my girl. You’re getting drowsy. <professional grin> I want you to act on that feeling of sleepiness and relax as never before. I don’t think you’ll need a sleeper tonight…..” And her soft, yet firmly disciplined voice trailed off. She said this in the most encouraging of nurse speak..

She started me out on my tummy over a pillow, then turned me on my side in the temperature taking position. I asked if I could put my knees down a bit, so I could breathe easier. She said OK.

At times she massaged my low back and buttocks with her free hand. In the end, I relaxed and drifted off to sleep before she finished me. I didn’t wake till the 7 AM rounds and breakfast trays.

Next morning, I speculated further on her interest. Thinking that perhaps I reminded her of her dearly departed sister and that was why she was so protective and interested in me. After her shift she visited me again about 8 p.m. that night after dinner. After she left I felt the exhaustion from another day of physical therapy. I had some bone inflammations the doctor was keeping an eye on. So they watched my temperature, for if it went up, that was a sign my infection was back.

After I had been in the hospital 18 days, my surgeon and Nurse Darbie noted that I had made excellent gains in my health status. My chart’s progress notes formed the basis of this opinion. I was so happy. Perhaps I could slow my deteriorating health.

It was early in the day, I had just had some kind of lab test. Darbie hugged me good morning and hit me with, “Roll over”. She examined me and asked how I felt.

“You’ll be going home soon. I’ll miss you! But I’ll be calling you at home for follow up info on how you’re doing. “<grin> Her hair was just like Barbra Streisand.

“I may even make a visit if necessary for assessment of your needs and for treatments,” her brown eyes twinkled. Gosh, she didn’t usually use that red lipstick in the wards, but it certainly looked good on her full mouth. Did she look more like Barbra Streisand or my ‘big sister’ Lainey? Her curvaceous bust barely stayed beneath that uniform. The attractive cleavage showed when she leaned forward with her stethoscope . Occasionally I had chest pain.

Her demeanor, and even her face reminded me a little of Streisand. I have all her albums. God I love that voice! I sing and I’ve won several Karaoke contests at the local pub and county fairs. That is, when my vocal cords aren’t strained. Then they hurt too much to sing. Swallowing something bulky like a crusty piece of bread sometimes makes that feel better, or a muscle relaxant. Its the MS…… I’ve had it since I was 23, I came down with a fever and was in bed a week. Afterward, I was never the same, weak and tired all the time. My emotional health was frail too, I was either manic and hyper, or tired and depressed and felt like jumping off a bridge. My eyes burned with fatigue . But somehow I taught myself how to keep working at my job, to push and persevere. To save steps. How to work faster & smarter. My doctor gave me some mood elevators and I began to put an end to a lot of the pain and fatigue and emotional problems. Well so much for disease descriptions.

I worked as a nurse for awhile in a general hospital, and later in a convalescent hospital, and had cared for patients with MS. My star patient, Ethel Moss used to call my name as she said it rolled so easily off her tongue. So, without lots of expensive MRI’s etc, I figured out what my Dx (diagnosis) was long before my doctors did. I had so many doctors. When I married and had my kids I never returned to full time work. I did volunteering for the Cancer Society and MS fund raisers, working part time (paid) for friends who had family businesses, plus babysitting , a weekly ladies group, etc. I pieced together my life all over again as I started raising my children.

“Any low back pain today or bowel problems?” Darbie’s eyebrows elevated.

“Yes, both.” I replied, baiting her to see what she would do with it.

In she came with a tray of lube, exam gloves, anesthetic ointment for my anus afterwards, etc, etc.

“Turn back on your side Darling.” She nearly whispered, but encouragingly.!

“Darling?”, I thought. Hmmmmmmm. Sounds like she took the bait.

She circled my anus again as before. Then slowly penetrated me. This time she worked as though desperate to achieve some sort of result.

“Remember if you feel discomfort, such as pain, or even <voice lowered>, like you might be approaching an orgasm, let me know and I’ll stop if you wish.”

I thought, “Not today Honey, I’m getting that BIG O. I earned it, I need it, I want it, I’m gonna have it. Today, right here and now, any way I can, with you or without you. I’m gonna have a muscle spasm in a place that will feel good!”<grin>

She worked hard at it, instead of relaxing though, I did the opposite, heightening of sexual awareness and straining backwards against her ramroding finger. Today I believe she used a finger cot or latex glove, as there was a lot more friction. My mouth was salivating and my pussy was lubricating. I felt impending orgasm. But couldn’t quite get there. I got on all fours and fucked her finger as she stood beside and behind me.

“You’re doing well, enjoying this aren’t you?” She whispered in my ear. She pulled the curtains more secure around my bed in my private room and locked the door.

“Roll over on your tummy so I have better access for your therapy.<serious look>

I did as I was told. She started to stimulate me and then she pulled out of my butt and gave me another directive.

“Put your hand under yourself, right where your panties would go.”

Done.

“Put your hand down over your pubis. And put your fingers inside your labia, your pussy lips. Do you understand?”

“Like this?” I asked, not understanding at first.

“Put your fingers on your clit like you do at home and play with yourself, make yourself feel good.” She guided authoritatively. Debauchery in the making.

“Here?”

“Yes here.”

“Now?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes now. Right here and right now. Go ahead. You have my permission. You need release. Make yourself feel good. It’s a medical necessity.” She instructed quite seriously and pompously.

Then it dawned on me, I needn’t act so innocently. I may as well drop all pretense and go along with her. When would I ever get a situation like this again to see how far she would go? After all I was leaving in a few days. Finally.

Then I began swishing my clit button between my index and my ‘fuck you’ finger. My other hand pinched my left nipple. She noted that and smiled dotingly.

“Come on, you can do better than that, make yourself come. Can you?”

“I need help. My hands are getting tired and starting to hurt.”

She took her bare finger and inserted it in my already slick rectum, twisting turning plunging like a piston gone mad. GOD DAMN. I hadn’t felt this good in months. I was feeling no pain.

I was excited, my hormones were high (close to my period), and the woman was sexually stimulating me with a medical procedure. Lucky me. She was a turn on. In more ways than one.

All of a sudden I moaned and cried out.

“AAAAAH AAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, Stop, I’m cuming!”

“Come on little girl. You’re doing such a good job. I’m pleased.”

My eyes brimmed with tears and I cried and shook at the same time, she turned me on my back and took me in her strong RN arms for a hug.

“Tonight when your husband comes to see you, I’m going to lock you two in here for half an hour. I believe good old fashioned marital therapy would do you good!”