I soon discovered the morphine had another unpleasant side effect. It had locked my bowels up tight. After what felt like hours of straining, I was sore, uncomfortable, and frustrated. I downed cup after cup of hot tea and coffee, which had always been effective remedies for me in the past. Not this time.

I knew I had to tell Nate. But the thought was mortifying. Most of the time, having Nate as my doctor was a blessing, but occasionally it felt like a curse. We had known each other all our lives; in fact, he had been my childhood love. Our lives had taken us in different directions, and several years ago, we had been thrown together again in the course of our jobs. Nate had taken good care of me, and no one knew me as well, in body or soul, as he did.

However, there was unresolved sexual tension between us, and we both knew it. Living here in the rehabilitation facility, under the same roof as Nate, was proving interesting. Yet I loved Nate too much to want to screw up our friendship with sex. I suspected he felt the same. And besides, there was Kevin, out there, somewhere.

In any case, the thought of telling my childhood sweetheart that I was constipated seemed an impossibility.

But days went by, and my problem did not resolve itself. My mood deteriorated as my stomach cramps escalated. Soon I was genuinely in pain. I thought about asking Nate if I could skip my physical rehabilitation that day, but I knew I would have to tell him why.

You’ll have to anyway, a voice inside my head told me. I ignored it and somehow managed to drag myself through the workout anyway.

That evening, I limped into the common area and gingerly lay back against the couch. Denise, one of the nurses, started to say something to me. I glowered at her, and she quickly closed her mouth. A stab of pain suddenly rocked my lower back and abdomen. I whimpered and gritted my teeth.

“Annie?” Denise said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I said sharply, tears running down my cheeks.

She turned pale. “I’ll get Nate.”

Soon, I sensed my doctor’s presence.

“Annie, what’s wrong?” Nate asked, kneeling beside me.

“It hurts so much,” I groaned, holding my stomach.

“You better let me examine you,” Nate said worriedly.

I knew he was worried about internal bleeding from my injuries, and I felt guilty. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to enlighten him in front of Denise and everyone else. My bowels were my own business.

“Come on,” Nate said, gently leading me down the long hall into the examination room.

“Put this on,” he instructed, handing me one of the pink exam gowns that always reminded me of a tablecloth.

I sat on the table as Nate palpated the area around my liver, where I’d had the internal bleeding. “Does that hurt at all?” he asked.

“Not really,” I said slowly.

He slid his hands lower, and I cried in pain. “Wow. Annie. You’re really impacted,” he said. “You should have told me. I’ll have to increase the dosage of laxatives that you’re taking. They’re obviously not working.”

“How long will that take to work?” I groaned.

“Well, a few days probably. How long has it been since you had a bowel movement?”

I looked at the floor, humiliated. “ A while,” I said evasively.

“How long, Annie?” Nate demanded.

I whimpered with shame.

“I’m your doctor, and you need to tell me,” Nate said softly. “Don’t be embarrassed, please. This is important.”

“Not since before the accident, Nate. Not a good one, not really. I’ve tried,” I continued, slowly. “Just small ones are all I can manage. And those hurt so much,” I added, thoroughly humiliated now.

“I see,” Nate nodded his head. “Unfortunately, constipation is a very common side effect of morphine. But for most people the laxatives offset that. You’re not responding to them, apparently.”

He sighed. “We need to take care of this, Annie. This can be serious. Do you have any preferences regarding what you’d like me to do?”

“I don’t know Nate! You’re the doctor!” I cried.

“Well, I have a suggestion, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Anything has got to be better than this,” I sighed.

“You can let me give you an enema,” Nate said.

“Are you serious?” I exclaimed. “Do people still do that?”

Nate chuckled. “Yes, Annie, people still use enemas. Especially for relieving constipation. I’ve administered plenty in my career. So has Denise.”

I stared at him, horrified.

“I’m guessing you’ve never had one?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not entirely sure what it is,” I admitted. Pictures of complicated Victorian-era devices were lodged in my head for some reason.

“It would be the best thing for you,” Nate said reassuringly. “Do you want me to explain the procedure?”

Reluctantly I nodded.

“I’d be injecting about two quarts of warm water and soap into your colon. You would need to keep inside you for as long as you can. It will soften the impaction in your bowels, and make it much more comfortable for you to get rid of all that waste.” He smiled. “And it will all come out, I guarantee that. You’ll get immediate relief.”

“Oh God! That sounds awful!” I cried.

“It’s really not that uncomfortable, Annie. I’ll insert a small tube into your rectum and administer the enema slowly. I’ve gotten pretty good at this over the years. It may feel a little strange, and a little uncomfortable, but I won’t hurt you. I promise. You’ll feel so much better afterwards you won’t believe it.”

I flopped back on the exam table, hurting and exhausted. “There have got to be other options.”

“Of course there are. That’s why I asked you what you wanted me to do in the first place.”

“Well, let’s hear them.” I said.

“The first option is to immediately increase the dosage of the oral laxatives you’re taking. But I don’t think that’s a good option. They don’t seem to work well for you. That happens with some people. I could give you some very nasty stuff to drink that would have a better chance of working, but it would take a while-“

“No,” I interrupted him. “This is going to end tonight, right now. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Okay,” Nate agreed. “I could also give you suppositories. You know what those are.”

I nodded, remembering being given one for nausea several years ago by a nurse. “They burn.”

Nate nodded. “They can. And since I suspect your major objection to the enema is the invasiveness of the procedure, I can’t imagine that you’d be much happier with the suppositories. Plus, I suspect you’re not going to respond to them that well either. You’re too impacted. You let this go a long time, Annie. To be honest, you’re almost certainly going to need more than one enema to clean you out. I just don’t think anything else is going to work.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine, Doc. You’ve already shoved tubes everywhere else. We might as well go for broke, right?”

“So you want me to do this?” Nate asked. “You’re sure?”

I felt a sudden flash of anger. “Goddamn it, this isn’t humiliating enough? You’re going to make me beg you for it too?”

Nate patted my shoulder. “Easy, easy. I just want to make sure I’ve got your informed consent. I know this is easy for me to say, but try to relax.”

I closed my eyes, trembling. “Fine. You have my consent. Get on with it.”

“Alright. Let me go get Denise.”

“No! Nate, please!” I cried. “I don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

Nate sighed. “I understand, but regulations-“

“Please!” I begged. “If you’re my friend, Nate, please, don’t let her watch this.”

Nate sighed again. “You realize I’m breaking the rules for you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said.

“Go lie on the bed, Annie,” Nate ordered curtly.

I did as I was told, and too soon, Nate was back, wheeling an IV stand. There was a clear bag hanging from it, about half full of milky-looking liquid. It seemed to be very warm. Steam was rising from it into the cooler room. There seemed to be an awful lot of tubing attached to it.

I swallowed. “You’re not going to put all that in me, are you?” I asked nervously.

“As much as possible,” Nate said, adjusting the bag on the metal stand.

I trembled a little. “Are you talking about the tube, or the water?” I asked.

“Both,” Nate confirmed, opening a clamp on the tubing. He ran a small amount of water into a basin. “Turn on your left side.”

I obeyed, turning away from him. I was shaking now, with fear and embarrassment. I hated this feeling of helplessness.

“Annie,” I heard the concern in Nate’s voice as he sat next to me. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

I felt a tear escape my eye and roll down my cheek.

“Oh Annie,” Nate sighed. “Would a mild sedative help?”

“No,” I sniffed. “Just do it, Nate. Get it over with, please.”

“You need to relax first,” Nate said gently. “This won’t be so bad, I promise. You’re so tense. Let me rub your back for a minute.”

“Okay,” I agreed, and felt Nate’s fingers began to knead my lower back. I relaxed slightly.

“It won’t hurt; I promise I’ll be gentle,” Nate said softly. “I’ll give it to you slowly. If you start cramping badly, we can stop.”

“I believe you, Nate,” I sniffed. “This is so humiliating, that’s all. I feel so vulnerable.”

“I see,” Nate said, continuing to massage my back. “Really, Annie, there’s no need to be embarrassed. The alimentary tract is a part of the human anatomy we all share . And almost everyone experiences problems with it at some point.” He smiled. “Very few people get through life without experiencing an enema.”

I was starting to calm down despite myself. Nate’s words were comforting, and his touch was even more so.

“You have magic hands Doc,” I sighed. My eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

“Are you ready?” Nate asked softly.

“Go ahead,” I mumbled.

“Draw your knee up to your chest,” Nate told me, as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. I heard what I assumed was lubricant being applied to his fingers. I thought of how Kevin would have made me watch him do it, and I felt a tingling sensation between my legs. Oh no. I couldn’t be having these thoughts right now.

I tried to force the memory of Kevin from my mind. This was a medical procedure. How could I ever face Nate again if he knew that I was starting to get turned on by what he was doing?

“Annie,” Nate spoke. “ I need to do a rectal exam first. I’ll be gentle, but it has to be done. Do try to relax; it will much more comfortable for you if you don’t tense up.”

I groaned with shame, burying my head in the pillow. I felt Nate’s finger’s separating my bottom cheeks, then the cold, slippery tip of his gloved finger at my anus.

The memory of Kevin sprang unbidden into my mind again. He had recently introduced me to my own anal eroticism. I had been reluctant at first, but I had wanted to give all of myself to him. I had been constantly embarrassed at how aroused I would become by Kevin’s probing and pleasuring of my most intimate opening. He knew how humiliating I found my own arousal, and loved to use it to punish me. I recalled being across his lap after a spanking when he had first pushed a long, gloved finger up my bottom. It had been terribly embarrassing, and I had come harder than I ever had before in my life.

I felt a familiar tingling between my legs.

“That’s better,” Nate said approvingly, and I felt his finger press against my rear opening, and slowly slide inside. I stifled a moan. God, it felt so good. I gasped as I felt him massage the cool gel into my rectal walls. The tingling between my legs became a constant throbbing. This was going to be an ordeal.

“I don’t feel any obstructions in your rectum,” Nate commented withdrawing his finger. “That’s good; it’ll make the insertion a lot more comfortable for you.”

The word “insertion” filled me with both dread and excitement. I squirmed, wondering if Nate had noticed my arousal.

“Are you doing all right?” Nate asked, peeling off the gloves and dropping them into the trash.

“Really, Nate,” I said, raising myself up on my elbows, exasperated. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to understand, Annie,” Nate answered, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, “That sexual arousal is a natural response to anal stimulation. It’s very common, actually.”

So he had noticed.

“You need to have an enema,” Nate continued. “It’s the only thing that’s going to help you right now. So if you can enjoy it, so much the better. Now lay back down, please.”