PD: Tell us a little about your childhood, Margaret . . .
MC: Please call me "Maggie", Planet'.
PD: "Maggie" then; where were you born, where did you grow up, how did you get into nursing?
MC: I was born in Higgins, Nebraska, in 1921. My father was a wheat farmer who died when I was just six and my younger brother was just one. My mother couldn't afford to hire help to work the farm, so she sold out and moved to Chicago in 1928, where my aunt May, her younger sister, lived with her husband at that time. Aunt May was a secretary for the head administrator at St. Mary Elizabeth's Hospital just outside of Chicago, in a small town called Des Plaines. My mother needed work to support us, so Aunt May got her a job as what now would be called a Certified Nursing Assistant or Nurse's Aid, basically a the lowest rung on the nursing totem pole, then and now, but it was a job. During the Depression, it kept food on the table for us.
PD: How did you father die?
MC: My mother never really said exactly how, and it was a closed coffin at the funeral, I do remember that. I know it involved him being on the tractor and the tractor, one of the huge old steam engine ones, either rolling over on him or somehow crushing him.
PD: So, your mother was a nurse, that's how you got into nursing?
MC: Yes. Eventually she took enough night classes and had enough experience to become a Registered Nurse, which she did in 1937. I was sixteen then. I had helped her study at night, all the while going to high school, so by the time I graduated in 1938 near the top of my class, I had a good book-level knowledge of nursing, and between Mother and Aunt May they helped me get a job as what would be now a Licensed Practical Nurse, since I knew how to give injections properly, insert catheters, do standard BP checks, the basics.
PD: This was at St. Mary Elizabeth's?
MC: Yes, though I did get a better job with more money and shorter hours at a smaller but more exclusive hospital, Regency At Lakeshore in Chicago, that was just off the southern end of Lakeshore Drive back then, and moved into an apartment with another nurse who worked there not too far from it, over on Deveraux Street.
PD: Is this where you began your career as a OB/GYN nurse?
MC: No. Dr. Pierce, a physician and surgeon had privileges there and who worked out of Regency as his main base of surgical procedures, was a well-know urologist. He recruited me to go to work for him as his main office nurse at his practice over on State Street, a twenty minute bus ride from my apartment, even though I didn't have specific experience as a urological nurse. He said no nurse was ever given specific urological training except by a physician-urologist so he wasn't concerned. After I earned my own Registered Nurse credentials, I was making the princely sum of $40 a week during the Depression, more than a lot of nurses with twice my experience and qualifications. This was 1939, mind you, and I was only eighteen.
PD: So, you were banging this Dr. Pierce, then? (Giving her a sly grin, cracking her up)
MC: Oh, Peedy, you are a card! No, I wasn't his "side dish". He was quite happily married with five kids. His wife and I became friends, I babysat for them on a few occasions. Great kids, can't remember their names now.
PD: So, when did you become this "special" ob/gyn nurse?
MC: Be patient, Darling, let me continue my story.
MC: He encouraged me to take some advanced medical and nursing classes at Loyola, which I did and he paid for, everything but my books and transportation to them. I never finished my degree in nursing, but that wasn't important to me. "The War", the "Big One", "Dubya-Dubya-Two" came along in December of 1941, and the following year, October of 1942, I volunteered for the Army Medical Corps. Of course, nurses were in short supply and large demand. Because I had specific training and experience as a urological nurse, for most of my enlistment I was stationed at a forward firebase hospital near Uzoal in North Africa.
PD: Sounds exciting.
MC: Well, it was what needed to be done. I really didn't like the Army all that much.
MC: Because, contrary to the myths since then, we were always short of both supplies and equipment. Such basics as bandages, catheters, scalpels, IV needles, steam sterilizers, even toilet paper, things like were always being stolen both by the local population and our own troops. More times than I want to remember I had to reuse dirty, unsterilized catheters over and over again for lack of a autoclave, sometimes I even had to reuse injection and IV needles sometimes without even sodium hypocloride to wash them out with. I did the best I could. They were our boys, and I did the best I could.
PD: Sounds rough.
MC: It was. And I had taken a huge pay cut, too. They had made me a captain upon my enlistment, even though I didn't have a four year nursing degree. Because of my experience and RN status, they made me a captain. Still flabbergasts me that they did. I was only twenty-one. But my pay went from $160 a month to $52 a month. There were side benefits to the job, though. I was, as the saying used to go but would be politically incorrect to use now, "free, white, and twenty-one". And there were so many handsome soldiers coming through our facility. Yes, I began to enjoy the fruits of my youth some.
PD: Uh-hummmm, yes, sounds interesting, tell me more.
MC: I was a virgin until then. A young corporal, a dead ringer for a young Errol Flynn, had come into the hospital with a minor gastro-intestinal shrapnel wound that had nicked his bladder also and infection has set in. Thank goodness we had enough penicillin and sulfa in supply right then. I knew, we all knew the invasion of Italy would be next, and that it would be bad for our boys. I gave him a special "going away present" that I could give only once. He was "bought the farm" at Anzio, stepped on a land mine, I think. His name was Bobby-something, can't remember his last name. I miss him to this day.
PD: Sorry. Let's talk about your experiences later as on ob/gyn nurse, okay? (She shoots a total "screw you, I'm in charge of this interview, not you", look)
MC: No, let me finish my story, Peedy.
PD: Okay, continue.
MC: After Bobby introduced me to the wonders of love, let's just say I wasn't averse to indulging myself. Thousands upon thousands of GI's coming through our hospital, and maybe twenty or thirty female nurses at most at any one time. It wasn't shooting fish in a barrel, it was picking the best piece of fruit off of the GI-tree that suited you then. An Italian soldier, part of the Italian Army In Exile, Gino was his first name I think, introduced me to both oral and anal sex, which I loved to do after that. He was a perfect lover to show me how to both suck cock and take it in my ass, slow and patient and gentle and all man.
MC: What's wrong with me saying that, Peedy? It's the truth. Every generation thinks they discover sex for the first time in the history of manking when they become adults, when all they're doing is re-discovering what's been around since time began.
PD: Just kind of caught me off guard with your explicitness, that's all, Maggie. (She laughs to the point of nearly guffawing at me)
MC: Remember back then we didn't have "the pill" like women do now. Any little slip could get you pregnant, and even the condoms then weren't nearly as reliable as they are now. Once Gino showed me oral and anal, he was only five-two but with a package the size of a German sausage, I was hooked. Sucked a lot of cocks and took in my ass quite a few times before my discharge, had plenty of regular sex as well but not as much once I discovered the other two legs of the sex-stool.
PD: So, we're up to the point of your discharge from the Army?
MC: Close. Just before V-E Day, I was transferred over to Kent Army Medical Center outside of London, where I stayed until my discharge orders finally came in January of 1946. I was glad to get out of North Africa. A hundred degrees in the shade during the day, below freezing at night, and locals that would dig up our war dead to steal their uniforms off their bodies they had just been buried in. I wouldn't trade my experiences in North Africa for the world, Peedy, and you couldn't pay me all the money in the world to re-live it again, either.
PD: So, how did you wind up in Long Island after the war?
MC: At my time at Kent AMC, I was still doing mostly my special urological nurse work, though I was also running the nursing cadre there, too. I had two English boyfriends who kept me in nylons and I kept them in blowjobs. One was married and by then I really didn't care. Pete was his name; nice guy, older, three kids and proper English wife. He had been a banker before the war and was a highly placed Civil Defence official during. I gave him my officer's scotch and cigarette allowances since I don't smoke or drink and he gave me antique silver and heirloom jewelry and some wonderful English paintings, including one Turner watercolor I still have. His come also was the sweetest I've ever tasted, tasted like nectar. He was a vegetarian, and his come tasted like he was.
PD: (The mike between us as we sit near each other at the small breakfast nook table picks up my subconscious tapping of my fingers on the table, which she notices and comments on)
MC: Patience, patience, my young friend! It was then that a Doctor Jones also was transferred to Kent to await his discharge too. He was a board-certified urologist who also had been in ob/gyn protocol before the war. He was married to a former Helen Sprungeon of the Seattle Sprungeons who had been working on completing her own ob/gyn residency before the war and was allowed to continue with her studies at the UCLA School Of Medicine during the war. I think she was the third or fourth woman ever permitted to enroll in the medschool there, which for the time was one of the most progressive and forward-thinking medical schools in the country. They both were originally from Queens, and it had been their intention that once she completed her ob/gyn residency at Field Memorial in Los Angeles, they would set up shop in New York.
PD: So, it was with Dr.s Mr. And Mrs. Jones that you became a special ob/gyn nurse?
MC: I wish you would quit calling it a "special" ob/gyn nurse, Peedy. What I did back then was very routine and common practice, had been for decades. I just did it more than a lot of nurses because of the nature of the Dr.'s Jones' practice.
PD: I don't understand.
MC: Let me finish this part of the story. Things will make more sense then.
MC: Dr. Jones, the male one, Phil, came to like me. Yes, I blew him a few times but he showed me a letter from Dr. Jones Mrs., Helen, in her own handwriting saying that as long as he was careful not to pick up any diseases he could selectively do so. I gave him some anal, which he had never had a chance to do before and loved, and had "normal sex" with him a couple of times, too. He was a great guy, a true gentleman, but an average lover. Mrs. Jones also had a lover, a female RN whom she worked with, that he knew and approved of. I was fascinated by that, I admit it. I had heard of lesbians, of course, but really didn't know what they did or how they did it. I wrote to her point-blank and asked her about. She replied with honesty and frankness and explicitness. I was fascinated.
PD: So, you became his lover and her lover too?
MC: (Just shaking her head at me, takes a deep breath, then continues) He told me as soon as he got his discharge, he was heading out to Valley Vale, a small community on Long Island just off a stop not far out from the city on the Long Island Railway, to set up shop as a urologist and when his wife came out to join him later, they'd have a joint practice together. It was their intention to become infertility specialists.
MC: Why what?
PD: Why did they want to become infertility specialists?
MC: Because he, they, had concluded that once the war was over, with all the GI's returning home that there would be this huge baby boom and with that, a huge number of frustrated couples that would be having trouble conceiving. Helen, Dr. Mrs. Jones, had been doing as much research into the cutting edges of infertility treatments as she could during her ob/gyn residency and as her faculty sponsor would let her. Keep in mind this was a time when mailing, sending or even just receiving, sex information through the mail could get you arrested, even if you were a physician. Hard to believe but very true. I know it must seem like the dark ages back then to you now, compared with the knowledge and freedom we have now, but it was a different time back then.
PD: So, there came a time when you moved to Long Island and began working for the Dr.s Jones'?
MC: Yes. He made me an offer to become their sole employee at first, chief nurse, receptionist, bookkeeper, cook, bottle washer. They had borrowed a little money from their families to set up shop with, but it wasn't much. I went from making captain's pay to $120 a month, still less than I was making before the war, but that all changed fairly quickly.
PD: So, Maggie, any regrets about volunteering for the war?
MC: None. I know I helped saved the lives of hundreds if not thousands of our boys. That's all the mattered to me, then or now. As I was saying, he got his discharge in November of 1945, and I got mine in January of 1946. The Army sent me all the way out to Ft. Bliss for my formal discharge. I stopped in Chicago to spend a week with my mother before going on to Long Island. Aunt May had died during the time I was gone. She left many nice pieces of furniture and some family heirloom china and silver to me. I already had two trunks full of nice things from my friend Pete that a couple of "friends" in the Quartermaster Corps had allowed me to ship back home, despite the usual prohibition to most GI's of doing so. Dr. Mr. Jones, Phil, had warned me that the place we were all going to move into at first was a tiny three-bedroom house, so I put all but one trunk and three suitcases full of my things into bonded storage, kissed my mother good-bye and left for Long Island and my new life.
PD: Did you have any idea you would be doing what you ended up doing, Maggie?
MC: Well, yes, and no. As I mentioned earlier, clinical female masturbation had been used for decades by the medical establishment to treat a wide variety of various "female problems", men excluded (we both laugh at that joke), from post-coital pain to dyspareunia to . . . "
PD: Maggie, what's "dyspareunia"?
MC: It's a catch-all term of sorts, but mostly then and now was taken to express a condition described in layman's terms as "pelvic congestion", which you can take to mean bad PMS-type pain, indeterminate sometimes localized sometimes general pelvic pain not related to infection or other chronic medical condition or to menstruation, a feeling of heaviness and bloatedness all the time, and even heightened libido and desire, which wasn't considered necessarily a good thing by the "male" medical establishment back then, would all come under that umbrella term.
PD: So, you would clinically masturbate women patients to relieve their "dyspareunia"?
MC: Yes, that and for post-coital pain, for some myometrial conditions, and even for dysmenorhea ...
PD: (I think I shot her another "speak English, please" polite look at this one)
MC: . . . which is painful menstruation, and even for vulvodynia which was almost unheard of and undiagnosed then because few physicians really paid much attention to what we women said, but we, the Dr.s Jones', were way ahead of their time.
MC: Vulvodynia is a non-specific, non-agentable, non-infectious condition of the female genitals, specifically the outer labia but also going into the vaginal canal, where the patient experiences a wide variety of unpleasant sensations, including but not limited to extreme burning sensations, extreme itching, random stabbings of non-specific pain, soreness to the touch sometimes, sometimes a non-infectious-related discharge that no one knows the origin of, but mostly, just a lot of burning and itch and pain.
PD: Sounds wicked.
MC: It is.
PD: So, clinical masturbation was used to treat that as well?
MC: When all other topical and internal treatments failed, yes. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Would you like to hear more of the story?
PD: By all means, Maggie, please.
MC: Dr. Mrs. Jones, Helen, didn't come out until the following June. With her expressed permission, Dr. Mr. Jones, Phil, and I became regular lovers for that time period. It was understood by all that if I became pregnant, he would give me an abortion, despite the fact it was a felony to do so back then. I didn't get pregnant. We were careful, and I gave him lots more oral and anal sex than vaginal, except when I wanted a good old-fashioned screw. Like I said, his cock was average, and he was an average lover at best. Most of our time was spent getting their office ready and when that was complete, our first ad announcing formation of their practice in the local paper in March brought in a total of fortry-seven phone calls, of which twenty-nine booked appointments. We were on our way. Their, the Dr.s' assessment about the demand for their services, if anything had been too conservative. Dr. Phil had to "bootleg" a bit, since he wasn't officially FACOG certified but tried to stay within the spirit of the AMA's regulations. He was a physician after all, could do anything he basically wanted with patients.
PD: So, please describe some of your typical cases.
MC: Let me finish up about how things eventually wound up. When Dr. Mrs. Jones finally came out to Long Island, my physical relationship with Dr. Mr. Jones officially ended that day, except for the once-a-month maybe twice or so blowjob that he had become spoiled on and which she didn't want to do, thought it was unwifely and unfeminine for herself to do to her husband. That was a common attitude for many women of that day. I know she thought me a bit of a tart if not a slight whore for not just doing it but admitting to actually enjoy giving them, let alone my occasional penchant for anal sex, but she never spoke negatively about it to my face, and in fact she and I became friends, fast friends. Yes, one Sunday in late August of that year, 1946, Phil had made an appointment to have an interview with the membership committee for the nearby prestigious Black Woods Country Club, which he was immediately accepted into a week or so later, and gave Helen and I total privacy for the day.
PD: Yes, I'm listening, getting a little hard-on actually.
MC: (She laughs approvingly at my joke) Keep in mind that I had been "just" Dr. Phil's nurse for the time until then. I hadn't done any clinical female masturbation techniques on our patients, not at all. Helen wanted to make sure they had the proper clinical and documentation protocols in place before I began doing so. So, the premise of that Sunday was that she would teach me how to clinically masturbate female patients, using proper, detached clinical form and technique, and then after that they would begin incorporating that more into their treatment modalities, especially for infertile couples.
PD: Pardon me, but hu?
MC: Yes. It was Dr. Mrs.'s belief that "pelvic congestion", dyspareunia could be a cause of infertility in women, when all other reasons had been ruled out. Actually, I had seen Dr. Phil clinically masturbate maybe a handful of women patients during the couple of months the practice had been going, but I didn't do any, he didn't show me how to do so clinically, and I was just doing as I was told to do, as is and was the job of a nurse, any nurse.
PD: So, you and Mrs. Doctor were at your shared home in Long Island on this Sunday, and the premise was she was going to teach you the proper techniques of clinical female masturbation.
PD: Were you excited?
MC: Yes, I have to admit I was. I was hoping that this "training session" would lead into something more with her. Something maybe not romantic but at least sexual. Remember, I knew about her lesbianism or bisexuality, she had written me letters telling me bits of what she did with her female lover that she had to leave behind in California once she moved east to be with her husband.
PD: Did it?
MC: Did it what?
PD: Lead to something more.
MC: You know it did, Peedy (she and I softly laughing). In her bedroom, she had me strip to the waist and pulled out two old-style Oster massagers, the kind with the big electric motors and those flexible spring-type series of metal bands that held the oscillating motor to the back of your hand in place, the vibrations being transmitted through the hand proper to the area being massaged. She said when doing what we then simply called "clinical massage" it was important to relax the patient first, so most of the time unless she or her husband indicated not to as a contraindication, the patient would be relaxed with a massage to the face, neck, chest, and breasts.
MC: When she touched my breasts with her hands pulsing with those massagers, there was a look of pure lust in her eyes but she kept her composure at first at least. She massaged my face, neck, upper chest and then played with my breasts for a while, working my nipples expertly. Yes, I became excited. I had been hoping she would introduce me to lesbianism.
PD: And you weren't disappointed.
PD: Maggie! (Laughing, we trading touches of arms sitting near each other)
MC: I was on my period right then but she said that clinical massage was a treatment for dysmenorhea too and I needed to become comfortable clinically touching female patients during their periods and "normally" and the best way to do that was to learn from experiencing. I took off my skirt and sanitary panties, then my sanitary belt and pad. She examined my pad in detail before I laid down on the bed. She asked me if had any cramping or passed any large clots during my period. I told her no, not usually, some mid-cycle cramping but little during my actual period. She felt of my soiled pad, examined my menstrual fluid on it. She told me that my flow indicated to her that my reproductive system was normal and healthy and I shouldn't have any problems getting pregnant, once I found a husband to marry. Then she began her genital massaging of me, but not before getting a medical shaving kit from under the bed and a pan of water from the bathroom and giving me my first pudendal shave, explaining that the wire coils of the massager would grab and yank pubic hair out by the roots if not careful and the easiest thing to do was simply shave the "affected" area.
Putting a cloth Chux clinical towel underneath my tail as I lay back on the bed before she shaved me and then finished up, she still clothed, she touched me both clinically and unclinically. Those old Oster massagers made such a racket, let me tell you. One of them massaging my breasts, her other Oster-powered hand touched my clit and I had a revelation.
MC: That I wanted her to become my lover, and I also wanted her husband to me my lover too, more than he had been. I wanted us to become what you would now call a permanent threesome. I wanted to have his child, and wanted to be her lover. I wanted to be with both of them, always.
PD: Did that happen?
MC: No. Well, yes, a little, but no, it really didn't. I also had the revelation that I loved the touch of a woman and would never do without it again. She would be in clinical mode one minute, telling me exactly how and why to stay on a patient's clitoris for maximum efficient use of clinical time for maximum orgasmic results, and then the next minute be giving me this "I want you so badly!" look as her fingers would slip inside me, the massager giving me sensations I never knew I could feel before.
PD: Sounds hot!
MC: Yes, it was. I thought I fell in love, was falling in love with her, but I wasn't. I found out over time that the feelings I was feeling for her then was a common manifestation even when a patient was heterosexual, feelings for the nurse who was treating her.
PD: Maggie, why didn't things work out between you three? I mean, sounds like they didn't.
MC: I don't want to talk about it, that, anymore, Peedy. I will say that, like I mentioned before, that during the time I was with them as their head nurse, I did give him monthly blowjobs when Helen was on her on own period and wouldn't let him touch her, and she and I would end up usually in bed as lovers a couple of times per month, usually once during her period when she wanted sex but didn't want to give her husband any and then another time or two, no particular pattern. All that ended up doing was making me frustrated, because the two of them more or less dictated to me when we, they individually, would have sex with me.
PD: But you mentioned the three of you having sex together?
MC: I don't want to talk about it.
PD: Okay. Please continue about your clinical masturbatory practices, Maggie.
MC: Oh, that reminds me, here, here are my notes I've been working on for you; is this okay? I'm getting a little tired now, Peedy. Why don't you take these home, read them, and then I'll see you tomorrow for a while, you can ask me some follow up questions. Okay?
PD: Okay, sure, Maggie (me kissing her on the cheek as a friend)