Here is my true story regarding a stay in hospital, some years ago.
A good many years ago, Oh I should think around fifteen or so. I injured my back badly, from falling down some stairs. I was admitted to a UK hospital and after being seen by the casualty doctor I was admitted onto a ward.
I was put into bed lying completely flat on my back. I was in a lot of pain and could do nothing more but lie almost perfectly still.
After quite a while (probably around 12/14 hours I really can't remember accurately) I felt the need to pee. Not surprising after such a time. A nurse provided me with a urinal bottle and I duly placed this between my legs. Try and Try, the need and urgency were there, but I just could not pee! I don't know how long I tried, but eventually a nurse came to my bedside, presumably expecting to remove the pee bottle and take it away for emptying. They were the large heavy glass type in those days, that could be emptied, washed and reused, nothing like the paper mash disposables of today.
She asked me if I had been and could she have the bottle. I had to tell her that I just couldn't pass anything. I seem to remember she left the bottle with me, saying that eventually I would go and to keep trying.
After a long time, several nurses arrived at my bedside, the hospital ward was busy and they had all been attending to the needs of other patients. I was again asked how I was getting on and I replied, nothing yet! The senior nurse tried to make some appraisal of just how much time had elapsed since I last urinated. She turned the bedclothes back and pressed gently on my tummy, she could tell straight away my bladder was near bursting point.
She then told me that I was to have one last try and then if I still couldn't go, they would pop a catheter in to relieve me. She departed, leaving the two junior type nurses with me. One of them told me I was having this difficulty because of the shock of my accident, and she appreciated just how difficult it was to pee lying flat on my back. She then went and had a word with the senior nurse and between them they agreed to get me out of bed, whereby I could try to pee whilst sitting on the side of the bed. The screening curtains were drawn around my bed and I was carefully eased out of my lying position. This didn't work either!! Finally they stood me up, with a nurse either side supporting me. I had an arm across each of their shoulders and my pyjama bottoms were pulled down for me by the nurse. One of the nurses held the bottle for me between my legs.
They did everything they could to try and spare my obvious embarrassment. They looked away from me and did their best to make light of the whole situation. Still I had difficulty in passing and the pain and discomfort was ever increasing. The nurse on my right suddenly announced try this. She took the water jug from my bedside cabinet and tipped its contents right down my chest, including my pyjamas, the bottoms of which were now around my ankles.
Yes, it worked, Hurray! Suddenly the tension started to ease and I started to pee. Gentle at first, then a steady unabated flow. The nurses still continued to hold and support me, the bottle started to fill rapidly, suddenly one of the nurse's left me and dashed off to the sluice room for another bottle. As she came back towards me the nurse still holding me told her to hurry. She arrived just in time and the full bottle was exchanged for a fresh replacement. My penis was quickly inserted into the neck of the empty bottle and the flow continued.
"Are we going to need another ?" one of the nurses asked. She dashed off again for a replacement and hurried back. I just can't express the feeling of relief I was feeling as bottle number two neared its capacity. The nurse held the third bottle in anticipation, however the flow stopped just at the top of the neck of bottle number two.
The two nurses were very good about it all, and we all had a laugh and joke. The bloke in the next bed must surely have wondered what all the frivolity was about!! One nurse told me the record she had seen was two and a half bottles. So I never made the record books. They gently helped me back into bed, saying they would get me some fresh pyjamas. The senior nurse returned to my bedside and grinning from ear to ear, says, "How does that feel now?"
"Oh bloody good," was all I could utter.
For the next few days little of any consequence happened, I was managing to pee without any difficulties. My next problem was to be equally difficult. Morning rounds were made by the senior nurses accompanied by the respective doctors. I continued to make reasonably good progress, however my back was hurt so bad I still couldn't move without extreme discomfort. I mastered the art of Peeing whilst laying down flat and this really wasn't a problem. The nurse in charge then noticed I hadn't had a BM for several days and inquired as to why and how was I feeling.
I suppose I had only eaten a very little whilst on the ward, and I had little appetite, but still my bowel must have been quite full. "Not sure when I last went, but it was a fair while ago."
"We'll get you to open your bowels today," she told me. Nothing happened until the afternoon some time after my morning visit from the medics. A nurse came up and asked me several questions about when had I last had a BM and she also felt my tummy around my colon. "Yes, you do need to go," she told me.
I already knew that. She came back and made me swallow a few laxative tablets, I can't recall how many, although the quantity surprised me a bit, I think it was three or four of these small tablets. I was given a drink to wash them down and then told, "There, that'll work you now"
Sadly it didn't! The following morning the nurse in charge of the ward, presented herself at my bedside and asked, "Have you opened you bowels yet, have you been?" She then ordered a nurse to sit me on a bedpan and there I sat for what seemed ages. It was terrible. I was then given some liquid laxative medicine and told that it wouldn't take long to work. It didn't. I was then told that a BM was not easy using a bedpan and I was helped out of bed and put on a toilet chair. My pyjama bottoms were removed from me and I was helped onto the chair. This was a contraption just like a wheelchair, but instead of a cushion seat, it had a black toilet seat. A blanket was placed over my bare parts and I was then wheeled off to the ward toilets.
The nurse wheeled me backwards into a cubicle, lifted the seat on the toilet pan and left me there, telling me to try as hard as I could. After about a half hour she came back in and asked the question.
No I hadn't. I was again left there. It seemed just ages, or even hours until she came back again. No I hadn't!! Alright don't worry I'll take you back to your bed. I was wheeled back and put into bed. Another visit from the senior nurse, who again felt my tummy and asked numerous questions. "I thought we've put enough laxatives into you by now," she told me.
She pulled my bedclothes back onto me and went away. A cheery young nurse came up to my bedside telling me, "Not to worry we'll soon get you to go."
The screens were again drawn around my bed and she rolled the bedcovers right back this time. Another nurse arrived with a trolley and I was carefully turned onto my side. I was asked if I felt cold and the nurse then told me she was going to give me an enema, asking me if I had ever had one before. I had been given several as a child by my mother but I told her no I hadn't
I then recalled my wife once explaining to me the horrors of a hospital enema. She's hated and disliked them ever since she had a pre-natal one. The nurse then explained the procedure, telling me it wouldn't hurt although I might experience some discomfort and a strange sensation for a while.
By now the second nurse a much older lady was in the process of filling up some white china jugs with warm water, I can remember hearing the water being poured into something and splashing around. The younger of the two nurses sat on the side of my bed and again felt my tummy with her cold hands. "Yes you are uncomfortable," she told me. "We'll sort that out for you."
I related the incident of the long pee to her and she mentioned she had heard of the incident.
She put on some surgical gloves and holding a wedge of white tissue paper wiped my bottom between my buttocks. She then applied the usual lubricant to my anus. This gave me a most enjoyable sensation, and she seemed to apply plenty. I could clearly see the older nurse affixing the long rubber nozzle she had taken from a shiny steel kidney dish, to the enema pump and filling the bulb syringe with the solution. The younger nurse then told me she was going to push a small nozzle tube up into my bottom and that it wouldn't hurt and told me to relax myself as it went in.
She was most gentle and it only seemed to take just a few seconds. "There it's done," she told me. I was a little surprised at just how gentle she had been getting the nozzle up, I expected it to hurt just a bit. She told me as she proceeded what was happening, telling me the water might feel a bit hot as she squirted it in, but it was at the right temperature and no harm would come to me. The other nurse took a towel from my bedside cabinet and covered my private front parts up with it. I was told I could lie face down a bit more if I felt comfortable that way, and the enema solution was gradually squeezed into me. I felt the surges each time it left the bulb.
I was asked how I was feeling and told I was about half way. The nurse gave me some words of encouragement telling me she was nearly there and would soon be finished. "Right you're full," she told me. "That wasn't so bad was it?"
She again wiped the inside of my buttocks with a load of tissue and told me all I had to do now was to hold it in and retain it for a while. She put a bedpan on the chair next to my bed and went away with the equipment trolley.
She came back and put her head around the curtain screen and said, "I want you to hold that in for as long as you can, now you must try hard and keep it in. I'll be back in just a few moments and I'll sit you on the bedpan." I lay there quietly and began to feel the pressure building up in my bowels.
The older nurse came back to me and put some tissue close to my bottom and asked, "You're not leaking are you ?" Anyway she sat with me and I told her I needed to go badly, she made me hold it in just a bit longer and then put the bedpan under me.
Crikey! Out it all came, the relief was almost instantaneous. The nurse helped me to sit up more, telling me I would be more comfortable in the sitting position. The rest is obvious and a terrible bout of constipation was finally cured, Oh jiminy, I felt so much better.
My wife didn't visit me every day as the hospital was a fair way from our home. However she came in to see me that evening and the younger nurse told her I had been given an enema. My wife then chatted with her relating her dislike of these and they spoke together as women do on these matters. So there ended my discomfort. My back slowly and gradually improved and after some physio I was discharged to rest and recuperate at home.
That's how I remember it folks, not really sure if I would want to go through it again, even playing doctors and nurses with some enchanting young females. Another enema from a nice young nurse might well be quite acceptable though. One day!
