A True Story from England
This is a true story, albeit as remembered across forty odd years.
In 1958 I was living in the midlands of England. In July of that year I caught rheumatic fever. These days this is easily cured by antibiotics, but back then the cure was 2 months flat on your back and a month in a convalescent home. I was sent to our local hospital and was admitted to Princess Mary Ward
As in all hospitals there is a routine and I soon learned it. After lunch each day your temperature was taken orally by your own thermometer which was kept in a pink fluid in a glass container shaped like a test tube on the wall above your bed. You were then given any medicine that you needed and I remember daily having a liquid medicine tasting of peppermint and to this day I don't like peppermint. The ward then went quiet and you were expected to try and sleep for an hour or so.
My bed had a cradle under the bedclothes to keep the weight of the bedclothes off my tender legs and my legs were wrapped in cotton wool. If at any time you needed to go to the toilet you asked the nearest nurse for a bottle if you wanted to pee or a bedpan if you wanted to do the other. The bottles were made of thick glass and were brought to you under a cloth. When you had finished you told a nurse who then took it away, again under a cloth. I don't know whether the amount output was measured, but the fact that you had had a pee was marked on a chart held on a clipboard on the foot rail of your bed. If you had a bedpan the curtains were pulled round your bed when and when you had finished the nurse turned you on your side and wiped your bottom with cotton wool and took the bedpan away under a cloth. Again, the fact you had used a bedpan was marked on your chart. This meant that the curtains around each bed were often pulled and then opened again after a few minutes, it was normal.
The problem came if you did not open your bowels, as they put it, for three consecutive days. The first time this happened to me they did something to me that profoundly changed me and fixed my sexual interests for the rest of my life. A nurse gave me an enema.
After lunch on the third day I was given a bedpan and told to try to go. I couldn't produce anything. The bedpan was taken away and I thought nothing of it and turned over to try to sleep as was normal after lunch. After a few minutes a nurse came in with a tray covered with a cloth and put it on my bedside table. She drew the curtains around my bed and took the cloth off the tray and there was a bedpan and an enamel jug on there and a length of red rubber tubing with a funnel on the end lying in an enamel dish. She told me that she was going to give me something to make me go to the toilet and told me to lie on my left side. My pajama bottoms were then rolled down and I felt her finger inside my bottom with Vaseline on and then the rubber tube was sliding inside me. She must have run some water through the funnel first, as the tube was warm. Then the water started running into me.
I was a big fellow for my age but it felt like gallons although it was no doubt only one or perhaps two pints. But it had a most distinctive smell and I didn't find out what that was until many years later. She was holding the funnel up with one hand and pouring the water in from the jug. When she had finished she slowly pulled the tube out and put the tube and funnel down on the tray and then held a piece of cotton wool against my anus telling me to hold it in as long as possible. She tidied up the tray and then gave me the bedpan into which I exploded with three days contents of my bowels and the warm, soapy water. She took the tray away and when she came back I had finished and she wiped my bottom with cotton wool and pulled the curtains open. The curtains were normally held against the wall and were pulled round on an overhead track.
That was the first enema I ever received, the first time something had gone up my bottom. After that I watched after lunch every day and was aware that other patients had the same treatment after lunch, presumably after their third day without going.
But what happened next reinforced my interest. My bed was the first one on the left in the ward and on my right was a blank wall. The girl in the next bed to me on my left was called Ann. I think she was a little older than I was and I seem to remember her being tall and thin. I do remember she had blond hair as the hairdresser came in once a month and gave us a trim and had done hers after he had trimmed mine.
One day after lunch when the ward had quieted down and we were supposed to be asleep the nurse came to Ann and pulled the curtain round her but she pulled them away from the wall and left a large gap that I could see through. I was supposed to be asleep and the nurse didn't see or didn't bother to close the gap. I watched in fascination as the nurse gave Ann an enema. Because both Ann and the nurse had their backs to me neither could see me watching.
I watched as the nurse turned down the bedclothes, lay Ann on her left side facing away from me and rolled up Ann's nightdress around her waist. I watched as she parted Ann's bottom cheeks and put a fingerful of Vaseline inside her out of a glass jar on the tray and then rubbed the end of the rubber tube, coating it with Vaseline.
I watched in fascination as the nurse ran some water through the tube into the bedpan and watched intently as the tube was slid up inside Ann's bottom and the nurse raised the tube and funnel and started to slowly pour the water into the top of the funnel, keeping the funnel nearly full controlling the flow by pinching the top of the tube near the funnel. I watched it all. I watched as the water all went in and the tube was pulled out as again the nurse held Ann's cheeks open. Ann never said anything.
Then just as my nurse had done to me she pulled a piece of a roll of cotton wool and held it against Ann's anus and told her to hold it while the nurse tidied away the equipment. After a short while (and I know exactly how she felt) the nurse slid a bedpan under Ann who turned on her back to lie on it and she let fly with the water, three days of waste and a lot of wind.
Finally I watched again when the nurse came back and wiped Ann's bottom with cotton wool, tidied the bed and pulled open the curtains. I had my eyes closed by then, pretending to be asleep. I said nothing at all to Ann for fear she would realise what I had seen.
Within a couple of weeks I had another enema exactly the same as the first time and for the same reason, but at least this time I knew what to expect, but although I was aware of other children having enemas I never again saw one being given in there.
After two months flat on my back in that ward I was sent by ambulance to a convalescent home in Derbyshire. There I learned to walk again (two months flat on your back robs you of your leg muscles) and I had my final enema from a nurse. Derbyshire was different; they used a Higginson syringe, as I now know it to be called, but the procedure was the same as was the results!
After a month in there I was sent home. Those were my first sexual experiences. I suppose I was at an impressionable age and ever since then my sexual tastes have always been geared towards the female anus, and enemas in particular. I am not a boob man at all.
