Found this on the voy forum the other day. Sounds like quite a way to be put out! The full post is quoted below:
'' This happened to me in late 1970s (probably '78. when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen years old and I had my tonsils out. It was a memorable experience for a young male in the beginning stages of puberty.
The morning of my tonsillectomy, a guy nurse named Mike had me strip off my undershirt and tightie-whities and changed into a hospital gown. I was lying in bed reading a comic book when Dr. Becker came in with another doctor who I didn’t recognize.
“Good morning, Chris. This is Dr. Nicholas. We’re here to get you ready for your tonsil operation.”
Dr. Nicholas was considerably younger than Dr. Becker, thin but not gaunt, with just a hint gray in his otherwise full head of brown hair. He introduced himself: “Hi, Chris. I’m Dr. Allen Nicholas, I’m going to be your anesthesiologist today. In just a minute, Mike and I are going to give you some medication to make you sleepy for the operation. I know you must be a little nervous, but don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it and you’ll be back here having a bowl of ice cream in bed.”
I wasn’t reassured, but he seemed to be a nice guy. Just then, Mike came in with a tray. Dr. Nicholas quietly asked him, “Has he had a morning B.M.?” “Yeah, I think he’s ready to go,” Mike replied. As an eighth grader, I knew what a B.M. was, and I could feel my face get warm.
Mike carted the tray next to my bed. There was a funny looking syringe and blue-and-white tube of what looked like toothpaste.
“Now Chris, this is the medicine we’re going to give you,” Dr. Nicholas started explaining. “Don’t worry, it’s not a shot. There’s no needle, just a plastic tip. We’re going to make the tip slippery and slide it in your bottom to give you a tiny squirt of medicine.” He uncapped the tip of the syringe to show me. “No needle, see?”
I nodded in acknowledgement.
“Chris, the first thing I need you to do is to roll onto your side. I’m going to examine your rectum, you know, the inside of your bottom, to make sure you’re empty of stool back there. That’s to make sure the medicine gets absorbed properly.”
My face must have turned beet red. Dr. Becker interjected, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re used to this kind of thing. And besides, I made sure Mike was your nurse instead of any of the women nurses so you’re not embarrassed.”
I reluctantly rolled onto my left side with Dr. Nicholas now seated behind me putting on gloves.
“A liitle bit more, Chris. Slide your left arm behind your back for me and bring your right knee all the way up so you can rest your weight on it.”
I got into the awkward, exposed position and Mike adjusted my pillow.
I nodded. Next the drawstring of the gown came undone and I could hear Dr. Nicholas open the tube and squirt some out. I realized that he was putting it on his finger. A gloved hand was placed on my right buttock and lifted it to expose my anus. I hoped I was clean enough back there. Knowing what was about to happen, I hid my face in the pillow. But nothing could prepare me for what came next.
All of a sudden, I felt a spine-tingling coldness plunge deep into me, and I quickly realized that it was his finger. I instinctively tried to clench up, but the finger was relentless, and just made my sphincter muscle sore. It swept around, probing every which way for what seemed like an eternity before withdrawing. I had never felt anything like it. It was strange and uncomfortable but something got me excited and my penis twitched a little bit. It would be years before I felt the same sensation during a prostate exam.
“You’re doing great, Chris. We’re ready to give you the medicine. It’s going to make you very sleepy. Don’t fight it, just let yourself drift off, and it’ll all be done when you wake up.”
I heard the tube being opened again, followed by the squirt. And then, the feeling again of his hand lifting my cheek. I held my breath in anticipation. It felt much smaller than his finger, but it was hard plastic and cold. I could vaguely feel it deliver its payload before withdrawing.
I had never had an enema before. I didn’t want to make a mess, and it was clear that Dr. Nicholas didn’t want me to either. His hand was firmly pinching my cheeks together. I think he knew it was going to be very uncomfortable.
Looking through a drug handbook, I later found out it was sodium pentothal in a concentrated gel form. There was a feeling of warmth in my lower bowel which gave way to a burning sensation and the urge to defecate. My rectum was signaling me to expel the irritating drug and I blurted out, “Dr. Nicholas, I feel like I have to go to the bathroom.”
“The medicine has to stay in to work. I need you to hold on for a couple more minutes,” he said firmly. With his hands still holding my butt together, this was clearly not negotiable. “He’s having trouble holding it, I think we’re gonna need to strap him,” I heard him whisper to Mike. I was nervous about what that meant.
I felt Dr. Nicholas’s hand nudging me to straighten out my leg. “There we go. We just need to do one more thing,” he said reassuringly. With my legs together, I then felt Mike apply a large square of adhesive to my backside, and then another one closer to my scrotum, as Dr. Nicholas squeezed my cheeks together. The two of them rolled me onto my back. Dr. Becker smiled and stated the obvious, “That’s to help you hold it in! You wouldn't want to make a mess on the operating table, would you?”
“Lie still and keep your legs together for me. Start counting backwards from a hundred,” Dr. Nicholas instructed. Of course, I had seen that trick before in movies; the patient was usually out by ninety as the doctor held a mask to his face. I wondered why they didn’t do that to me instead.
As I started counting backwards, I could tell that the potent anesthesia was already starting to work. My head was starting to spin and the warmness in my rectum seemed to spread to the rest of my body. I started seeing double, and at around fifty, my numbers started to get jumbled up. I felt a pang of terror as my consciousness faded out. I think it was either fear of losing control or maybe fear of never waking up. I tried to fight the narcotic as everything faded out, but of course it was a futile effort.
It was late afternoon when I awoke in the same place. The adhesive was gone, as was the urgency to evacuate. (I did have an oily “accident” passing gas later, which must have had something to do with the drug). My mouth was dry. I was suddenly assaulted by the pain in my throat when I tried to swallow. I must have passed out again. This time when I woke up, it was almost dark and I was still groggy. Mom and Dad came to visit and Mike came in to give me chips of ice and the promised bowl of ice cream.
Every surgery I’ve had since then, I was put out by IV, which works instantly, so this experience was definitely unique and memorable. I’m not sure why they chose to do it via the rectal route, but it was definitely effective, and from rectal injection to lights out was probably couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, though it was way too embarrassing for a boy who was well into puberty by then.
A few years later, I had gastrointestinal issues that required getting frequent enemas as a young adult, but it was this tiny one that knocked me out that awoke my fascination in what most people consider an unpleasant medical procedure.
Anyone else experience anything like this? ''