Beginning With the End
It was a very chilly day in early March, at 8 a.m. when I arrived at the Community Hospital for my lower GI series. I felt drained, tired and sore (my anus) from the three (3) day prep I had just finished that morning. I was directed to outpatient registration by a girl at the reception desk in the hospital foyer. The young woman at registration asked about a million questions, some personal “Miss Patterson, do you have your period at this time’?, and doubtfully asked ‘did you follow the prep’? I wanted to expose my raw anus and prove to her that I had. She told me that many people don’t rigidly follow the extreme prep and therefore their colon is unclean and the exam has to be rescheduled, ‘wasting everybody’s time.’ Interrogation complete, she sent me off to radiology down the hall and one right turn. At the Radiology desk a young nurse got up and took me to a private changing room. “Remove all your clothing and place your jewelry, if you are wearing any (I wasn’t, as I was aware that jewelry could ruin the X-ray picture) in the lock box, and put that gown on (pointing to a flimsy typical white hospital exam gown), and I will be back to take you for your ‘pre- B. E. cleansing enema”. This last statement was audible enough for everybody in the adjacent waiting area to hear. A man, about 40 years of age looked up with a flush face and a crooked smile gazing at me, seeming like he was picturing to himself my naked body lying on an exam table with enema tube attached, with the cute, but loud, little Florence Nightingale behind me holding the bag , efficiently doing her work. Several other patients, both male and female-early arrivals-I thought seemed not to hear, or pretended not to.
I entered a cubicle and removed ‘everything’ as she had commanded, placing my clothes on the available hangers and my personals (undies, bra) in a small basket provided. I put on the gown opened in the back, as instructed and, mindful of potential gawking co-patients sitting outside, carefully tied the strings in the back hoping that they would stay that way. The infant enamator returned, “very good, please have a seat I have two patients ahead of you for enemas, so it will be about a half hour wait, then we can get you in”. “Was that get me in, or get it in”? I jokingly said, although my attempt at humor to lighten the embarrassment fell flat. Without reaction, she directed, “sit over there and I will get to your enema ASAP”. She said this in a voice clearly above the volume required for the situation and without regard for my privacy and humility. I was so embarrassed, as the two other obvious victims seated nearby, a man in his 40’s and an attractive light skinned Hispanic woman, looked up when she said this and quickly looked away averting my glance when I looked over to them. As I took my seat and imagined each of them with a half empty enema bag hanging high over their partly covered naked bodies, straining to hold onto the liquid within as Nurse Loud coaxed each of them : “Now, take a little more for me”. I do not know where medical professionals got that term, or the right, to order a patient to do that or this “for me”. But it is in common usage with no good reason for application of the conjunctive, ‘we’.
Enema Nurse ‘Loud’
Not long after I took a seat next to the other two condemned, Nurse Loud returned and selected the young attractive slightly built Hispanic woman as her first victim. “Miss Hernandez, would you follow me so we can have our enema”? What is this “we” I found myself saying out loud, the man next to me chuckled. Miss Hernandez, didn’t show any embarrassment by the command but put down the magazine she was reading, got up slowly, and without looking at either the man or me, followed the young nurse to a room directly across the hall which bore an ominous sign I hadn’t noticed before, ” PREP ROOM” . Nurse Loud held the large entrance door wide open, and as she did, I got a view of what awaited me in that room: a bare hospital bed with a tall standard next to it from which hung an enormous enema bag connected to large bore tubing wrapped around one of the other of four hooks attached to the contraption. Whether it was my imagination or not I thought I saw the Hispanic girl hesitate as she entered the chamber.
The man next to me still looking down at the book he had brought with him to “pass the wait time”,as he later told me, said, “If I see water flooding out from under that door I am getting up and running”! I gave a nervous little laugh as the site of the contents of that room combined with the forcefulness of the little enema nurse unnerved me a bit. “there’s’ no way that poor girl is going to get away by taking anything but that whole bag I’ll bet, with Nurse Ratchet doing the job”, I said. The guy laughed. I noticed then that he was attractive, with a muscular build which was outlined by the sheer hospital gown he wore. He had a mane of thick curly dark hair, and some gray showed upon careful examination. “I am Tom”, he said as if we had just met seated next to one another on the 7:15 into the city, instead of being here under these somewhat embarrassing circumstances, both waiting for our pre ” BE enemas” as Nurse Loud put it. “I am Sally”, I said without a trace of embarrassment I thought, which for a basically shy person like me is unusual, certainly under such circumstances. “If all those late night infomercial’s about detoxing knew about this they would be selling barium enemas”, Tom said. “I would kill for a toasted poppy seed bagel, starting with her”, I nodded in the direction where Nurse Loud had disappeared with her Latin victim. I’m so hungry, “haven’t eaten since yesterday morning”. Tom laughed.
“Is that what we are in for?” asked Tom.
Running out of conversation, we both went back to our reading material and remained quiet for a few minutes when suddenly another nurse or nurse aide (I later found out she was an X-ray tech) opened the door to the enema room and asked, ” how much further do you have to go, we are ready for the first patient in GI.” As the door was opened to a considerable degree and was held open by the tech for some time, I was able to catch a glimpse of poor Miss Hernandez, hooked up to a now almost empty enema bag lying on her right side with knees raised to her tummy, bottom exposed, but of course not to my view as she lay facing me, both of her arms were bent at the elbows with hands clasped under – what I envisioned but could not see clearly-her red face. She was breathing heavily- more like a doggie’s pant actually- while I heard the voice of Nurse Loud, out of my view, telling the X-ray tech, “just a few more minutes, almost done, but she may need two, she has been very constipated, and her prep may not have worked well.” The tech seemed annoyed, “Ok but try to step it up the Rad is already done with the upper GI’s.”
‘Poor’ Miss Hernandez “lying on the hospital bed, panting like a puppy full to capacity and in the Clutches of Enema Nurse Ratchet”
“Yikes! Is that what we are in for”? I heard Tom say, not aware he caught this scene also. I suddenly felt humiliated for the submissive Latin beauty, knowing that Tom and I had seen her so intimately evolved. It was like we were interloping on some taboo private moment. The door closed and the Tech walked briskly off to a room down the hall. A few minutes later the door quickly opened and both Loud and Hernandez emerged almost on the run as the nurse had her arm around her Latin victim, the latter, holding the back of her gown closed with one hand and her stomach with the other while quickly being escorted to a room marked with a female symbol on the door obviously a private haven for the expulsion of the reservoir within her. Both entered,the Nurse exited a short time later, and headed towards Tom and me. “O. K. Mr. Burns” she said with a cute smile and her head turned away from him but casting a sideways glance at him at the same time, as if to say, ‘time for you know what’. “Your enema awaits”, I said, not believing that such a comment came out of my usually reticent mouth. “She is right’, said the nurse, “hopefully only one is needed. Did you follow your prep carefully”? ‘It is obvious that this woman has no mental or verbal filter when it comes to her work’, I thought. Tom was obviously embarrassed, and no doubt thinking about that door being opened to my view by some officious tech.
Sheepishly Tom followed her into the enema chamber and I felt a sensation of arousal watching him enter as he tightly held his gown closed with his right hand, grasping the doorknob with his left and entering ahead of his nurse. About 15 minutes later Tom emerged from the room, quickly led by the nurse avoiding eye contact with me. I looked away, forced by a desire to give Tom privacy, but also thinking about the lucky nurse having the view of Tom’s magnificent buns. They both entered the men’s room a few steps past the ladies room from which Miss Hernandez had yet to emerge. The nurse came out a few minutes later and knocked on the adjacent ladies room, “Miss Hernandez are you finished expelling your enema”? This last loud question caught the curious look of a lady who was walking her child of about 10 years of age towards the seating area where I was located, to await his barium enema, as his mother later told me. Now the nurse directed her attention to me. I felt a twinge in the pit of my stomach, my face turned red as she walked briskly towards me. Before she could say anything, actually in order to pre-empt her from loudly emitting some personal comment (‘time for your enema!’.) I got up from my seat dropped my magazine on a table and said, “I ‘am ready”. To my great embarrassment, she loudly proclaimed in front of the lady, her son and several other persons who had recently showed for their X-rays and procedures and were scattered seated throughout the waiting area, ” I need a few minutes before I administer your cleansing enema, I have to wash my hands and clean the prep room, the patient before you made quite a mess-couldn’t hold the enema. ‘ Gee, I wonder who that could be’, I thought.
I heard the little boy ask his mom as I returned to my seat, “Mommy what is a cleansing emina’? Only two seats away, the woman answered-obviously one of those modern moms that find opportunity for an informative lesson in all things of interest to their children- “the nurse is going to clean out the lady’s bowels with an enema, she will put water into the lady’s heinner to make her move her bowels”. She looked my way and winked as she finished the lesson as if to say,’ my intelligent boy is now fully informed, my job complete’. I was never more humiliated in my life! Everybody in the room now has the image of me , fetal positioned, tube in anus, bulging enema bag suspended above me, filled to my physical capacity, 113 pounds of me with a hundred pounds of water cascading through my intestines, holding it in for dear life perhaps unable to contain the tsunami, eventually to expelling it violently into an enamel bedpan, or worse in the bed like poor Tom, or perhaps lose it on the floor on my way to the toilet? God! I am so embarrassed! ‘ Oh, the humanity of it all’! Red faced I sat quickly so the late hearers might not observe my image and think, perhaps and hopefully, she was talking to someone else.
“Tom sheepishly followed the Enema Nurse into her chamber”.
I sat for another ten minutes before nurse Ratchet returned. As my face was buried in a magazine, solely for the purpose of hiding its red hue, I did not see or hear her approach. “I am going to take the young man first as the doctor wants a stat barium enema on him”, she said. A reprieve! I heartily welcomed, as when my turn came the waiting area would be empty and much less embarrassing for me when the loud little enamator called me in for ‘our enema’. I said “that’s ok”. She quickly turned to the little victim, “Have you ever had an enema before”? The mother replied, “no, but he understands what they are”, looking directly at me as she said this with another wink. Ratchet took the little boy by the hand and led him into the enema chamber, as he looked for his mom over his shoulder. It seemed he was about to cry and was seeking the comfort of his mother’s bosom. “It will be ok Peter, the nice lady will take good care of you”, she said to him. “We certainly will Peter”, said she. “We” again? As she closed the large door to the chamber I could hear say ‘you’ll have to take off your undies’. Then she said, “Hmm somebody didn’t follow directions”. Just then the doors to the ladies and men’s room opened. Somewhat sheepishly Tom and Miss Hernandez emerged, almost bumping into one another and simultaneously apologizing while at the same time avoiding looking at each others’ face, while holding the backs of their respective gowns tightly closed behind them.They both came towards me as I pretended to be reading in order to avoid what they may perceive to be an inquisitive look, so neither would feel they had to give me a full report about their experience.
“I’ll never do this again”, Tom said as he sat down looking straight ahead. As I turned to offer him words of comfort, suddenly, the X-ray tech appeared and quickly ordered Tom to follow her as she was ready for his X-ray. As he walked away with the tech in the lead, I noticed the rear of his gown was quite wet making the outline of his great bottom very evident. ‘Nice butt’, I thought, ‘I would like to trade places with that young tech’. The door to the enema chamber opened as little Miss Enema lead young Peter to the toilet. “OOH I cant keep it in anymore” ,Peter said almost in tears. “Just try to clench your butt cheeks together, and take puppy breaths like I told you”, Miss Enema suggested. Immediately after she said this a loud whoosh could be heard and a sudden splash of water hit the floor! “Oh! I pooped”, Peter said. “Oh my, what a mess” Miss Enema said as she stepped away from the torrent, arms akimbo, disapproving look on her all business countenance, looking down at the mess on the floor; water mixed with some dark material. “Somebody didn’t do his prep very well”, she said in a tone similar to a teacher chastising a student for not doing his homework. With a squeal from Peter they both entered the men’s room. An older matronly X-ray tech then appeared, just as Peter’s mom began explaining to me how she had exquisitely ‘prepped’ Peter for his barium enema. With mop and bucket, an orderly appeared to clean Peter’s mess,
Seated alone now , I suddenly was startled by a middle aged woman in a white uniform, her lapel pin read “X-Ray Tech”, We are ready for you now dear”, she said. ‘Unbelievable’, I thought, ‘ my chance to avoid the dreaded torturous enema!’ My escape at hand, I quickly got up and followed her, hoping against hope Miss Enema would not suddenly appear and pirate me off to her chamber. The Tech led me into a room which contained a large and highly polished white piece of equipment over a metal table with a silver top covered with white blankets. “OK dear please hop up on the table, I have to get a preliminary film of your abdomen to make sure you are clean inside”, the middle aged technician ordered. As she said this a young rather handsome blond haired ‘boy’ appeared (he actually turned out to be 25 years old) , ” Mister Davis will be your radiological technologist today to assist you and the doctor”, she said referring to the handsome blond hunk as she observed him over her shoulder standing behind her.
“Good morning miss Patterson, I’ll take good care of you and make this as quick as possible”, the young blond tech said. “Oh my God I thought is this boy -a young handsome hunk of a boy- going to give me an enema?” I was red faced &mortified, and I am certain it showed, although he never let on he noticed anything. The lady tech having acquired her xray and taking a 2′ by 2′ dark plate out of the machine went out of the room at a fast pace. “The Rad has to look at the image she just took to make sure your colon is clean enough to proceed”, the smiling blond boy said. He then proceeded to ask me various questions concerning my symptoms, my prep , whether there was a chance I might be pregnant (‘fat chance, I hadn’t had sex in about 9 months!’), as he questioned me he recorded my responses on a report form. He then explained the procedure to me, and to my dismay,I learned that it was indeed he who was going to “slip a well lubricated rectal tube into your rectum, and inflate a small balloon attached to the enema tip to help you hold all the barium inside”. I thought, “OH, a balloon, this is going to be a party for someone, but not me!”
” The older tech took Sally’s initial X-Ray to make sure she was cleaned out”
Just then the older X-ray tech reappeared, this time holding the largest enema bag I ever saw, in fact I never thought there could be a need for the manufacture of something so big for the intended purpose! How much can a human being tolerate? Also, it was filled to bulging with a thick white liquid and had an appendage attached, a long white wide bore hose at the end of which was affixed a light blue enema tip, a black squeeze ball and a small tan square plastic device. She handed the bulging bag and its’ accoutrements to the young tech, who in turn placed it on an IV pole where it looked even more menacing given the height from where it hung. The young X-ray tech must have seen my surprise and concern as I gazed with dread at this instrument of medical torture. ” Don’t worry we aren’t going to use all of that barium, only what we need…TO FILL YOUR ENTIRE COLON!”. Certainly with a great deal of trepidation in my voice, I said ” my God that certainly looks,(I couldn’t find the right words) impressive enough!” He chuckled, ” you wont feel a thing, the doc will give you an injection of Glucogon to relax your colon”. The other tech re-entered the room and said, “you can start now the spot film was clear, Dr. Harris said to go ahead”.
“The largest enema bag I ever saw…She handed the bulging bag to the young tech”
“OK the young technician said as he gently held my shoulder and guided me into what he called the “Sims position” or knee-chest position, ” bring your right knee up to your chest, straighten your left leg, that’s good”, he said as I complied, while at the same time trying to maintain my dignity by holding my gown closed over my partially exposed butt. Then, all was quiet for a minute while the anticipation grew in the pit of my stomach and deep in my bowels,when suddenly, I felt a draft against my now totally exposed rear, as without warning he lifted my gown exposing my ass in all its glory. He was not cognizant of my surprise although he worked gently but determined,” As he worked he said, “now I am going to put some lubrication on your bottom”. I then felt him part my butt-cheeks and slide what I assumed was his finger up and down my butt crack in the area of my rectum which was now exposed to his view. I felt his finger enter for a short distance that place ‘no man has ever explored’. ” Now I am going to insert the enema tip for a short distance are you ok?” “Yes”, I whispered completely embarrassed but now strangely …aroused! I felt the well lubricated tube slide easily into my rectum. “Now I am going to inflate that little balloon I told you about to help the barium stay inside you, it may feel a little uncomfortable, and may make you feel somewhat full but that sensation will go away after a few seconds.”
“He spread my butt cheeks, lubricated my bottom then inserted his finger, then the tube with the balloon”
Just then Nurse Loud entered the room. “Hold up! She hasn’t had her cleansing enema yet, how did you get her?” I could tell that the two tech’s were standing alongside the table despite the fact I was facing the away from them on my left side. I could tell they were annoyed by the interruption. “She is totally clean. We took a scout film and she is completely empty,” I heard the female tech say to Loud. “Harris said we can start; he checked the film himself”, the handsome blond male tech said with a slightly impatient tone in his voice. Meanwhile I was totally exposed on my side, gown open revealing my butt, tube in place, and a very uncomfortable sensation in my rectum, as the balloon made me feel like I had to either pass gas or poop. “Well the flat plate film may be clear but when you start running the barium feces may mask some pathology”, said Nurse Loud, “so I better give her the enema, I can do it right here in the X-ray suite”. ” Excuse me”, I said mustering great courage despite my vulnerable position, “but I think I have a say in all this and I am not having that enema now! Lets’ get this X-ray started and please, lets do it quickly!” As I spoke I turned towards them, lying partly on my back, partly on my side, looking out of the corner of my eye at surprised group. My stern demeanor obviously convinced Loud that she had lost her prey, and without further word, she abruptly turned and exited the room. ” Congratulations Miss Patterson, I think you were the first patient in a long time to escape the enema queen,” the blond tech said with a toothy smile.
The equipment used on Sally “Miss Hernandez had her own issues!”
Soon Dr. Harris, the radiologist, came into the room, introduced himself asked if the procedure was explained to me. He immediately began giving orders to the blond tech. He produced a syringe containing Glucogon and gave me an injection, as he said to ‘prevent my colon from painfully cramping’. The first part of the exam consisted of “live X-rays” where the doctor and tech watch the barium fill my colon looking for any ‘defects, tumors, diverticulae’ they said. Then came a painfully cramping insertion of air into my colon to give “contrast” to the barium the doctor said (Mr. Davis didn’t warn me about of that).The air was pumped into my rectum with that little black squeeze bulb, and I immediately felt a sharp pain in my colon. The doctor said everything looks normal but “I want Mr. Davis to take some overhead pictures to get complete and detailed views of your entire colon”. Before he left the room however he grabbed the sheets beneath me and slid me down to a foot rest at the foot-end of the table. He then pressed a button on a hand held control box which was attached to a thick cable and the table rose upright, 180* until I was standing upright on the footrest. After he had placed me in this position, with the tube still inside me,as he left the room he nodded to Mr. Davis and handed him the controls. “make sure to get all usual views”, he told him. At this point I must have had 3/4 of that large bag of barium in my gut, and that’s when the ‘shit hit the fan’ , or in my case, the X-ray table, the footrest, my socks, my gown, my legs, the floor! The little balloon obviously failed to contain the reservoir within me as promised, and all hell broke loose! The heretofore calm, cool and very collected (and did I mention beautiful?) Mr. Davis quickly grabbed several towels handed one to me and threw a few down on the footrest and floor to contain the tidal wave of barium which was spewing forth from my anus and down my legs. I was mortified I would never even belch in front of a guy and here I was shitting like some farm animal with dysentery in a barnyard. And, not only that, the air which had been pumped into me began violently exiting my colon in very audible bursts of farts, akin to the loud exhaust emissions from an old roadster.
Mr Davis, in an attempt to comfort me and vitiate my obvious embarrassment, said, “Don’t be embarrassed, we see this all the time and worse even”. ‘How could it be worse than this?’ I thought. I couldn’t stop shitting and farting as all that barium and air exited my rectum. There were three doors in the room. One just had to be a toilet, so rapidly, I made a run for the door near the X-ray table thinking it was the bathroom. It was not. It was another fluoroscopic suite where poor miss Hernandez was undergoing her barium enema. I was startled but curious at the same time drawn to the scene before me as one would be to something sensually tempting but illicit. Nobody in the room noticed me, engaged as they were in assisting Miss Hernandez who had her own issues. The tech’s were supporting her, one on each side of the poor woman, who, unable to make the run to the toilet, sat on a bed pan as she violently expelled what must have been a rather large enema. Her enema bag hanging alongside her, and seemingly bigger than my own, was completely empty. Like a voyeur, I couldn’t help but to take in the entire scene: Miss Hernandez seated on the enamel pan two technicians, one male, one female, steadying her as she sat knees up with her arms wrapped around them, bare feet flat on the table moaning with and in obvious pain she grabbed her stomach and massaged it lightly, while at the same time emitting audible sighs of apparent relief with each whoosh of expulsion. “Oh’ ,(gush of fluid hitting the bed pan like a handful of marbles) ‘ahhh’,(fart!) ‘ees better, ees better’, (louder fart!), ‘Madre de Dios’, (even louder fart!), ‘Oh, eso es mejor ahora!’ At that point I backed into the room from which I had come, unobserved by the thus occupied trio. In my room, Mr. Davis was busy along with two aids cleaning up my very large mess. He looked up at me his face now red from embarrassment, as if to say ‘can I help you?’ I looked at him holding my stomach from which came another rush of cramping that bent me involuntarily at the waist, “Bathroom?”, I asked, almost pleading. “That door” he replied pointing quickly.
I opened the door as directed, but there on the toilet sat Tom, who had only moments before finished with his barium enema in an adjoining room which shared this toilet. “Get up”! I demanded. From the tone of my voice I suppose he discerned the emergent nature of my command, and abruptly got up as would a sailor when an Admiral enters his room; he moved hastily to a neutral corner of the bathroom. I quickly opened the back of my now soaked gown and dropped myself on the toilet seat with a smack of my butt- flesh hitting the plastic seat, simultaneously expelling the remaining matter within me in a gush, a fart, and even a belch. It seemed like I emitted from every orifice, including my vagina, which was now engaged and moist by virtue of the scenes I had just witnessed: The beautiful Latina so animalisticly evolved, twice; and now Tom who seemed to have no conscious awareness of his present condition, standing froze in place, pale-faced and silent with his arms at his side, his beautiful ass exposed out of a gown now soaked with barium and water from the two enemas he had received.
Poor Tom, dominated and made to submit to the most embarrassing treatment, first by an enema nurse who had absolutely no concern for his dignity, then X-Ray Techs invading his body and instilling foreign substances in his most private parts (and, as he later told me two young female techs, having been told by the loud enema nurse of Tom’s problem holding in the cleansing enema, left the balloon-enema tip in his rectum and walked him into the bathroom from the X-ray table, with young one girl carrying the bag and hose and the other girl firmly gripping him around the waist and guiding him, as one would a drunken man. The younger girl, about 18 years old who held the equipment, had Tom bend and place his hands on his knees as she deflated the balloon , removed the tip and sat him down on the toilet. With embarrassed smiles on their faces the two girls fled the room when Tom immediately began to forcefully expel the enema ). And now here I was, bursting in on his only moment of private refuge as he sat half naked, violently excreting all of the matter he so submissively accepted and retained without complaint. I instantly felt a my heart skip a beat despite knowing him only for an hour and a half. I felt guilty ordering him about as did those enema girls.
Poor Tom the X-ray Techs invaded his body Sally sat quickly on the toilet while Tom watched.
There was something prohibitive in the scenes I observed, and provocative and sensual all at once. Tom was standing there in his corner staring at me with a blank but compassionate look on his handsome face. I barked, “Tom, toilet paper !” Tom’s eyes were locked on my own, and he was careful not to look down at my exposed body. He reached for the toilet paper without removing his eyes from mine, like some automaton, he quickly tore off a wad and handed me the tissue. Then realizing the absurdity of our situation we both started laughing simultaneously. “Coffee and a toasted poppy seed bagel?”, Tom asked. “That sounds very good to me” I said. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship, now that we’ve kinda broken the ice”, said Tom, the color returning to his face.
The End, or the Beginning?