As mentioned in my previous blog entry, my partner and I just spent some quality time together a few weeks ago. Anyone who has read my posts on the forum knows that we are both rather fond of urethral play and catheters.
One morning during his visit, I was scheduled for my colonoscopy and directly after that, we went to breakfast. While we were at breakfast, we discussed what we would like to do for the rest of the day, including play activities. He declared that he was "itching" for a catheter insertion. Well, alrighty then! We assessed whether I was feeling sharp enough after a dose of versed/Demerol to perform the procedure and we decided that my mental acuity was about at its average, for whatever that's worth.
As soon as we got back to the hotel, I started prepping him for the procedure. It went very smoothly, or so I thought, right up until the time I inflated the 30cc balloon. Apparently, the balloon didn't inflate completely because he was able to urinate around the catheter. Poor partnersub, he had too much coffee and OJ at breakfast because there was quite a geyser emanating from the end of his manhood.
After removing the catheter and mopping up, we went on to other activities (I think estim was then the order of the day). I kept asking him if he was okay and he assured me that he was; he certainly seemed to be acting normal. The next day, not so much. Frequent trips to the bathroom with very little urine being produced (Ladydoc has very good ears). He admitted that he was feeling a little "funky" and took some Tylenol. We made it through that day with no issues but the next day he asked me if there was anything he could do to relieve the constant discomfort in his bladder and the burning when he urinated.
UH-OH! All of Ladydoc's alarm bells are clanging and she's on high alert. We went to Wally World and purchased some AZO but I told him if he wasn't considerably better the next day (Saturday) we would be off to the local ER: a fine facility that I consider my second home. Sure enough, he spent a very restless day and night and was feeling no better on Saturday morning. I again suggested the ER and was somewhat surprised when he said he didn't want to go there, but he did want to seek medical attention. A doc-in-a-box it is then. We located one quite close by the hotel (gotta love technology) and proceeded there without undue delay. After a wait of about an hour (this was July 4th weekend), he was called back to an exam room. I offered to stay in the waiting area because I am a firm believer in the right to privacy when being seen by a medical professional but he encoouraged me to come along with him. After about another 30 minutes of waiting we were seen by a Nurse Practitioner. She was in her late 50's or early 60's and is what I would call "exceeding cool". Truth be told, I got the impression that she might be one of a rare breed; a kink-friendly medical professional. Nothing overt was said, but she certainly had a sense of humor that would lead you to think that she was at least aware of some of the silly business we can get up to.
After establishing that dear partner had contracted a urinary tract infection, she asked if he was having any back pain. He said that indeed he was and I could attest to that because I had spend a good bit of time the previous afternoon massaging his back and applying warm compresses to the area of his right kidney. The NP inquired as to whether he had any prostate issues and he said no. Then there was discussion that he was "just the right age". I could see where this was leading even if he couldn't and I made myself ready to be asked to vacate the exam room.
Then, the magic words from the NP, "I think I'd like to do a postate exam, just to be on the safe side. Why don't you jump down off the table and drop your pants, this will only take a second." As she gloved and lubed, she asked "Have you had a prostate exam before?" He replied in the affirmative but neither of us mentioned that I had given him several very complete prostate exams throughout the week. As he dropped trou and placed his elbows on the exam table, he looked over at me with an expression that said, "I sure didn't expect this, but I hope you're enjoying yourself". Indeed, I was.
I can't tell you how interesting it was to see another woman standing behind him, preparing to put her finger in his bottom. I guess I have a bit more of the voyeur in me than I suspected. As she examined him, she said "That's my finger on your prostate, can you feel that?" He said that he could, she asked if it was tender in any way and he said no. She withdrew, doffed the glove and told him he could get dressed. She wrote a prescription for an antibiotic and another for Phenazopyridine, the same substance that's in AZO. We were cautioned that it makes EVERY bodily secretion orange; tell us something we don't know!
There is a happy ending to this story; he said I do a much better prostate massage than she did (DUH-HUH!) and two days later, he was feeling right as rain. On the other had, I have spent a good bit of time obsessing over what I might have (or have not) done in my technique that would have cuased this problem. I've talked about it with him and I take comfort from the fact that he realizes that this is the risk you take when you play like we do; and that I shouldn't hold myself accountable for one of those "things". I always defer to better judgment so if that's the way he feels, so be it.
Overall, a very interesting way to spend a Saturday morning during a holiday weekend!