A Dish Best Eaten Cold
A Dish Best Eaten Cold
They had been friendly rivals since their commissioning together. Then they were both assigned to the same Army Reserve unit, a field hospital outside Boston. She was the first to make captain from her class, but both had made major the same month. She was the hospital's chief Army nurse; he was a so-called 'mustang' who had come up through the enlisted ranks, taking a commission later, after he had served as sergeant.
Then in their third year as majors, his experience in Desert Storm began to make a difference. He was promoted to lieutenant colonel early, and was made the Chief of Staff for the field hospital where they both were assigned. She was currently the chief nurse, and had just been just selected for lieutenant colonel, but was awaiting the final confirmation for her promotion. They had remained friends, but there was a not-so-subtle difference in their current positions. He was her superior, both in rank and position and he was careful to maintain a strict professional relationship whenever they were together. He had been the one to review and endorse her promotion papers, and, after several re-writes he had insured that every 't' was crossed, 'I' dotted, and everything else was in order. It had been a hellish, grueling, experience for her, with a big promotion in the balance.
In civilian life she was a nurse at the regional hospital, generally assigned to the outpatient department. One of the reasons she chose to serve in the Reserves; it took her out of the day to day routine of her every day job. He worked in as an executive for one of the big construction firms that built state buildings, but he didn't say much about that part of his life.
At the previous Thursday night staff meeting she had overheard the Chief kidding with some of the other officers about 'the old garden hose up the rear' and her ears immediately perked up. She heard 'colonoscopy' and several of the others offering, in jest, to perform the procedure for the colonel; right then and there. Listening more closely she heard 'Monday' then, 'no dinner Sunday,' and '7:30 AM.' Her curiosity was piqued and she was determined to find out more. She had access to every soldier's medical records in the unit and went back to her office and pulled out Lieutenant Colonel Henry's folder.
Yes, there it was, during his 'over 40' physical he admitted being treated for diverticulitis. In order to be allowed to stay in the Reserves for four more years, he had to be given a clean bill of health from his civilian physician. So, his own doctor was going to do a colonoscopy to confirm that everything was fine. Next Monday, he was going to be tested at the regional hospital where she worked! Results to be provided to the Medical Board directly from the doctor. A copy of the appointment was in the folder, along with patient instructions.
As she perused the folder she read the standard doctor's instructions: "No solids, drink the Colyte, report at 7:30 to the hospital where the prep would be completed before the test at 8:30."
She knew the prep done at the hospital was generally one, sometimes two Fleet enemas, just to insure the colon was empty. The instructions didn't mention that, though.
"Well," she thought, "Lieutenant Colonel Henry, you are in for a bit of an adventure come Monday."
It would be no trouble to switch duties with the nurse in the GI office. It was not regarded as great duty around the hospital, prepping patients was duty for novices. This one time it might just be FUN!
Monday morning she dressed in whites, choosing that over the hospital provided scrubs. More intimidating. At about 7:20 she peeked into the waiting area and saw him fidgeting in a chair, filling out forms for his insurance. He didn't look very different than he did in his Army fatigues.
He was called first and the receptionist handed him a hospital gown and directed him to a changing room to change and wait there for someone to get him. She let him stew for about 10 minutes, then putting on her most professional face; she knocked on the door.
He opened the door but took a full moment to focus on the person standing there. Full realization hit him and his eyes went to the size of half-dollars. "That," Colonel Henry, "is for the two times I had to have my photo re-taken, just because some ribbon wasn't on straight." She thought to herself.
"K-K-Kathy, What are YOU doing here?" He stammered, obviously surprised.
"I WORK here, you know that. I work GI at least one day every week," she said. "What are you here for?"
"Oh, testing, my over 40 physical, you know, I've got to get a clean bill from the doc, medical board, you know, scoped." He got it all out in a rush, obviously uncomfortable.
"OH, then YOU must be my 7:30 prep!" She sounded surprised, too.
"Uhhh, I don't know," he tried to sound flip, "It's all new to me."
She looked at the manila folder in her hands and said, "I didn't make the connection, you're the Henry, J. listed. Well, we had better get started. Please follow me."
He did, doing his best to keep the gown closed around his back. In the blue gown, athletic socks, and sneakers he made quite a picture.
She led him into an exam/treatment room with a paper-covered table in the center. On one wall was a scrub sink and cabinets; on the other wall was a door to a small lavatory. "You can sit on the table while I get some stuff together."
He sat, moving the gown around to maintain a degree of modesty.
"Have you ever had a colonoscopy before?" she asked.
"No, first time." He replied.
"Have you ever had any type of examination of the colon, like a barium enema or sigmoidoscopy before?" She seemed to be reciting from memory.
"No, never. I guess there's a first time for everything." He tried to sound cheerful at the prospect; and failed miserably.
"Well, the preparation is the same for most examinations. You should be pretty well cleaned out by the Colyte, its pretty rough."
"Delightful" he joked.
"Here we just follow up with a couple of cleansing enemas to insure the colon is completely clear before the actual colonoscopy," she said.
It was as if electric current had been introduced into the table. He came upright at the mention of the word 'enema' and started to shake his head. "After the stuff I drank, there is NO WAY I have anything more inside. This isn't really necessary is it?"
"Its standard procedure. All part of the prep. You wouldn't want to have to re-take the test would you? After all, it's just an enema!" She said as she donned white latex examination gloves. They snapped into place, one-two.
He looked defeated.
"There, Mr. Nitpicker" she thought, "That was for the additional college transcripts she had to unearth and furnish for her promotion." It had meant a long drive back to her school and a forty-dollar fee for a certified copy of her college grades.
The normal prep called for a Fleet enema with a second Fleet if the returns were not clear. However, protocol allowed her the latitude to give a large volume enema if it was indicated. She decided it would certainly be necessary today! She opened one of the cabinets and took out a small green and white box. Opening it she held out the bottle and asked, "Have you ever had an enema?"
"Not since I was a child," he replied. "A long time ago"
"Well I'll refresh your memory, After I position you on the table, I'll insert this end in your rectum and inject the fluid. You may feel a strong urge to evacuate, but to be effective you need to hold it for a few minutes until I tell you that you may empty out. It's not much solution, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable."
Without further word, she began to point and arrange his body. "Head there, up on your left side, push your buttocks out toward me, now bend your right knee as far as it will comfortably go."
She stepped back to admire the view she was getting. She had often seen him in the Army gym uniform, short athletic shorts and T-shirt, but this was much, much more revealing. She moved forward and lifted the right hem of the gown and folded it over his hip. He was completely exposed and vulnerable. She could just see his balls shrunken up and trying to hide between his legs. His pucker was clearly visible between his cheeks. To quote an old army phrase, "His ass was all hers!"
She uncapped the bottle between two fingers of her left hand, and then used the same hand to lift his right buttock. She pressed the nozzle to his pucker and just slid it home. He jumped and gasped when he felt the cool nozzle, but, resigned to his fate, he didn't pull away.
She didn't squeeze the bottle right away; this was a moment to savor. Although they were friends, it was too rare a moment to fritter away. Then, ever so slowly, and with exacting pressure, she squeezed!
His reaction was immediate. He groaned, "I've got to go! I'm not fooling!" and he made a move to get up.
Instead she firmly held him with her left hand; the nozzle still planted in his behind. "Just hold on there, you need to hold it a while."
She looked at him in obvious discomfort, whether from his predicament or the solution, she didn't know. Probably both. Then she let him get up, not as long as she wanted him to wait, but long enough. Besides, this was only his first!
He moved briskly to the bathroom, as he closed the door she reminded him, 'don't flush! I need to see how clear you are." "That," she thought, "was for all of the questions you asked me during my oral boards about why I thought I was best qualified for promotion!"
She almost let him off the hook. If he ran clear, she would have had a hard time explaining why the next enema was necessary, but there was brown stringy mucous in the discharge; at least enough to justify another enema! Or, so she rationalized. Besides, she was having great fun at his expense, good clean fun!
When she returned from her inspection, she shook her head a bit, as in frustration, and announced that he still had some particulate matter. She told him, "I was afraid of that, we'll have to do another enema." Secretly loving it all the while. He just groaned and resumed the position on the table.
She went to another cabinet and drew out another, larger, cardboard box. Opening it, she took out a clear vinyl enema kit, which she carried to the sink. Making little effort to conceal her actions, she filled the bag with warm water, stripped the air from the hose, and turned around; full bag in her hand. His look was worth all of the hassle she had been put through. His eyes grew big and round, the look of total disbelief reflected in them. "AND THAT, COLONEL HENRY," she thought, "IS FOR THE FOUR GODDAMN PUSHUPS I HAD TO REPEAT DURING THE LAST FITNESS TEST BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT MY BACK WAS NOT STRAIGHT ENOUGH." Revenge really is sweet!
Before he could protest, she cut him off, "I told you that you need to be totally clean before the test. It's one of those rules WE have to follow."
"After this you should be ready." She thought to herself, "after this you won't have to go for a week!"
She glopped some lubricant on a paper towel and liberally applied it to the hose. Again lifting the hem of his gown she exposed his backside to her impending assault.
"After I put about one third of the water in, I'll stop the flow and I'll have you roll on your back. Then I'll put another third in before having you roll on your right side. I'll put the last of the water in while you're on your right side."
"You need to make a real effort to take it all in, or we may have to repeat the process SEVERAL TIMES!!" That ought to keep him in line, she chuckled.
Up went his left cheek, in went the hose, and the water started its journey. His discomfort was again plainly apparent. By the time the water had reached the first black line, he was squirming. As she rolled him onto his back, his whole crotch was exposed, further adding to his embarrassment in front of this friend. More so because he was beginning to get somewhat 'excited' from the pressure on his prostate.
"Oh, STOP!" she said, pointing at his hardness, "We're just good friends!" He groaned all the more at the joke.
Another 500 ML was injected into his butt while he was on his back. She was actively coaching him to keep going by this point. The "Come on, you can do it" type of thing.
By the time he was on his right side, he was sweating in anticipation. She opened the clamp for the final time and started rubbing his stomach as the final pint was going in. One hand on his stomach, one on the tube that disappeared into his behind. When the bag finally collapsed, he would have promoted her to general to be allowed to get to a toilet.
Instead, she slowly withdrew the hose and pressed a tissue against his puckered butt. "Now hold it for a few minutes to let it work."
After only 5 minutes, pity won out. She couldn't keep him there in obvious pain. "OK, you can go." And as he fled she said, "don't flush"
Humming to herself, her victory was now complete. She was as contented as the cat who got into the cream!
He went onto his test after being pronounced 'clean.' She didn't follow his progress any further, except to thank the supervising GI nurse for allowing her to switch. It was all a mystery to her why anyone would volunteer for patient prep.
A few days later a box wrapped in festive paper arrived at his construction office, all wrapped in bows. Inside was an oblong green and white box, labeled 'Fleet.'
Except... when he opened it with some misgivings...it was full of M&M's.
It showed she hadn't forgotten last Monday, and she wasn't about to let him forget it soon, either!