Nurse Darby comes up with a unique way to treat a muscle condition

Lois was in the hospital for observation and physical
therapy for a muscle condition she had. Her doctor
decided to hospitalize her for tests and observation.
Here’s her story:

As I also had 2 separate orthopedic injuries as well, I
would have tests in the morning and physical therapy in
the afternoon. I was in there a total of 25 days.

I got to know one nurse quite well. Her name was Darby.
Well, Nurse Darby to you. She was a very commanding
type person, as most nurses are. She was my “primary
care nurse” who coordinated all my activities at the
hospital. She was the one who checked me in. She was
the one who made sure my condition & vital signs, or
vitals (temperature, pulse, respiration, and sometimes
blood pressure, BP) were done and charted.

All progress or lack of was duly noted. By the end of
the first week we got to know each other so well, that
when she came in on her day off to pick up her pay
check and oversee some prescriptions that she stopped
in to visit. I was flattered. But I also thought it odd
that a professional person would get that personally
involved.

I got to know her and found that she had undergone a
divorce a year ago and was still living alone. Refusing
to pick up the first man that came along for a roommate
and bed partner.

“Lois, I want to be happy. Not desperate. I’ve never
lived alone before. Its freedom. When I’m tired of it,
Mr. Right will present himself.”

“That’s an uplifting philosophy,” I told her.

Then she went on to tell me that her sister who was
younger than her by 15 years, and had lived with her
for a couple of months had recently died in a car
accident. She was only 23. Just out of nursing school.
Passed her RN licensure exam with flying colors. They
worked together here for over a year. Everyone loved
her. Darby loved taking care of her, bringing her along
in the profession. Having her for a roommate was
wonderful after the divorce.

When she came back to work, first thing she did after
report was come to my room and tell me what would
transpire that day. She check my vitals. Unfortunately,
I needed regular enemas from spending so much time in
bed with not enough exercise. And had to have rectal
temps done. It was embarrassing to have my Number One
Fan seeing me like this, from an anal point of view!!
HE! HE!

But I got over it. Sometimes I felt too sick to care
about being embarrassed.

She started giving me a back rub in the afternoon,
between therapy and dinner, so I could rest up and feel
like eating my meal. Then, if she happened to be near
the hospital she would check in about 7 or 8 to see if
I needed anything and look at my chart. She normally
works 7-3 shift.

She told me, “I was offered the position of head nurse,
but I don’t want to be a manager for the hospital… or
a cost accountant for the patient’s insurance
companies. I want to do patient care… That’s what I
was trained to do… When my son is in college in 5
years, I’ll be 43, maybe then I’ll take them up on the
promotion. But I doubt it. It pays more, but I really
love making sure people get the care they come in here
for.” Or something like that, is how her story goes.

One night she looks at my chart and says, “Oops the
evening nurse hasn’t charted for you this shift. I’ll
check you myself and chart it.” Coming back with an
electronic rectal thermometer, she put a plastic sheath
on the probe. And gently turned me on my side.

“Let’s have you draw your knees towards your chest. OK,
good.” She put a dab of lube on my abused anus and
inserted the probe. As it rested there, she noted my
pulse and respiration rate. My temp was l/2 degree
over. So she told the night nurse to make sure temps
were done and charted on time, I might be heading for a
bone infection. If not, I may be elevated from fatigue.
It was also close to my period I told her, and that
tends to raise a temp.

After 10 days I was doing pretty well. She turned me on
my tummy one night and did a back rub. Then covered my
back with a sheet, exposed my legs and rubbed them.
Soon I was so drowsy, I didn’t need my sleeper
(sleeping pill) She pushed up the gown and finished my
massage by rubbing my buttocks exquisitely. She asked
me if my temperature always elevated when my period was
due. I told her it seems like it, as I always feel too
warm then.

“I’m going to do an oriental massage move, called…
called, oh, I forget the term for it, but basically
it’s an internal massage. Now take a few deep breaths
and relax your bottom for me Lois. This will help you
relax your back, and may diminish your need for enemas
and laxatives. It’s a problem people with MS have, even
mild MS like you have. By the way, internal massage is
highly recommended for pregnant women in the last month
of pregnancy. Because their tummy is so big, they can’t
bend forward to stretch the spine. So it feels more
tired and achy. This is a way to prevent that problem.

“Some women like sodomy during this time, and at no
other time ever again! A deep dark subject, but,
true. A penis is the perfect fit. Much larger than a
finger…wider, longer, so… a more thorough job. But
lots of women don’t care for this. Rather taboo. Can be
painful! But not to a kind and experienced man. And
also, a good old fashioned orgasm, vaginal or rectal,
is good for tension in the muscles and back pain, too.”

I looked over my shoulder at her to see if she was
keeping a straight face. She was. I was feeling
embarrassed. And wondered if she was just telling me
this because she thought I had a cute butt. Why she
would want to “molest” me was foreign to me. I realized
her recent loss of a husband and sister could have
provoked it. But put this aside feeling because “she’s
a professional nurse, let her do her job, I may feel
better.” Even my husband told me, “Don’t try to second
guess the nurse. She knows what to do. Be good for the
nice nurse.”

OK, so I said to myself, this reminds me of when we
were kids and we would play doctor. They were always
shoving something up my ass and handling me all the
time. I chuckled inwardly and tried to relax for her.

She came back with KY lube, “Never use Vaseline, it’s
too sticky and you can have pain during penetration.
Plus it’s just down right messy to clean up. Am I
being too frank with you? If so I’m sorry. You don’t
have to have this procedure if you don’t feel OK with
it.”

“No, go ahead and do what I need to have done. I’m in
here for therapy. I want to get well. I hope to be
better off when I leave,” I confided to Nurse Darby.
Not to mention the fact that I hadn’t had intercourse
with my husband in a month. I felt quite horny. I just
hoped I could disguise an orgasm if need be! No need in
further embarrassing myself. As I recalled I had seen
this maneuver in a massage book my roommate had when I
was single. I couldn’t believe it then. I guess I had
to now.

She clipped her finger nail so as not to hurt my tender
bottom. Washed her hands. Lubed me up. Her finger
circled my dark anal ring and when it relaxed, she
penetrated me. And began a slow thorough massage and
touching of every square millimeter of my rectal
passage. I was wondering how deep she would go, then I
saw that her fingers were small, about the same size as
mine. I soon found it a somewhat titillating.

“Some people, particularly males, find this will lead
them to orgasm. So if you get to that point, let me
know if you need a little rest break. For whatever
reason,” Kindly spoken as always.

I felt my low back relax and pain dissolved. I wondered
how far she would go. (“Act decent!” I scolded myself.)
I began to sweat a little. My forehead was dotted with
it.

“Are you OK? Tell me if I’m hurting you Dear. I don’t
note any fissures or hemorrhoids. No bleeding. You seem
to be doing just fine. Ahhh… that’s my girl. You’re
getting drowsy. I want you to act on
that feeling of sleepiness and relax as never before. I
don’t think you’ll need a sleeper tonight…” And her
soft, yet firmly disciplined voice trailed off. She
said this in the most encouraging of nurse speak.

She started me out on my tummy over a pillow, then
turned me on my side in the temperature taking
position. I asked if I could put my knees down a bit,
so I could breathe easier. She said it was okay.

At times she massaged my low back and buttocks with her
free hand. In the end, I relaxed and drifted off to
sleep before she finished me. I didn’t wake till the 7
AM rounds and breakfast trays.

Next morning, I speculated further on her interest.
Thinking that perhaps I reminded her of her dearly
departed sister and that was why she was so protective
and interested in me. After her shift she visited me
again about 8PM that night after dinner. After she left
I felt the exhaustion from another day of physical
therapy. I had some bone inflammations the doctor was
keeping an eye on. So they watched my temperature, for
if it went up, that was a sign my infection was back.

***

After I had been in the hospital 18 days, my surgeon
and Nurse Darby noted that I had made excellent gains
in my health status. My chart’s progress notes formed
the basis of this opinion. I was so happy. Perhaps I
could slow my deteriorating health.

It was early in the day, I had just had some kind of
lab test. Darby hugged me good morning and hit me with,
“Roll over.” She examined me and asked how I felt.

“You’ll be going home soon. I’ll miss you! But I’ll be
calling you at home for follow up info on how you’re
doing. “ Her hair was just like Barbra Streisand.

“I may even make a visit if necessary for assessment of
your needs and for treatments,” her brown eyes
twinkled. Gosh, she didn’t usually use that red
lipstick in the wards, but it certainly looked good on
her full mouth. Did she look more like Barbra Streisand
or my “big sister” Lainey? Her curvaceous bust barely
stayed beneath that uniform. The attractive cleavage
showed when she leaned forward with her stethoscope.
Occasionally I had chest pain.

Her demeanor, and even her face reminded me a little of
Streisand. I have all her albums. God I love that
voice! I sing and I’ve won several Karaoke contests at
the local pub and county fairs. That is, when my vocal
cords aren’t strained. Then they hurt too much to sing.
Swallowing something bulky like a crusty piece of bread
sometimes makes that feel better, or a muscle relaxant.

It’s the MS… I’ve had it since I was 23, I came down
with a fever and was in bed a week. Afterward, I was
never the same, weak and tired all the time. My
emotional health was frail too, I was either manic and
hyper, or tired and depressed and felt like jumping off
a bridge. My eyes burned with fatigue . But somehow I
taught myself how to keep working at my job, to push
and persevere. To save steps. How to work faster &
smarter. My doctor gave me some mood elevators and I
began to put an end to a lot of the pain and fatigue
and emotional problems…. Well so much for disease
descriptions!

I worked as a nurse for awhile in a general hospital,
and later in a convalescing hospital, and had cared for
patients with MS. My star patient, Ethel Moss used to
call my name as she said it rolled so easily off her
tongue. So, without lots of expensive MRI’s etc, I
figured out what my Dx (diagnosis) was long before my
doctors did. I had so many doctors.

When I married and had my kids I never returned to full
time work. I did volunteering for the Cancer Society
and MS fund raisers, working part time (paid) for
friends who had family businesses, plus babysitting, a
weekly ladies group, etc. I pieced together my life all
over again as I started raising my children.

“Any low back pain today or bowel problems?” Darby’s
eyebrows elevated.

“Yes, both,” I replied, baiting her to see what she
would do with it.

In she came with a tray of lube, exam gloves,
anesthetic ointment for my anus afterwards, etc, etc.

“Turn back on your side Darling,” she nearly whispered,
but encouragingly.!

“Darling?” I thought. Hmmmmmmm, sounds like she took
the bait.

She circled my anus again as before. Then slowly
penetrated me. This time she worked as though desperate
to achieve some sort of result.

“Remember if you feel discomfort, such as pain, or even
, like you might be approaching an
orgasm, let me know and I’ll stop if you wish.”

I thought, “Not today Honey, I’m getting that BIG O. I
earned it, I need it, I want it, I’m gonna have it.
Today, right here and now, any way I can, with you or
without you. I’m gonna have a muscle spasm in a place
that will feel good!”

She worked hard at it, instead of relaxing though, I
did the opposite, heightening of sexual awareness and
straining backwards against her ram-rodding finger.
Today I believe she used a finger cot or latex glove,
as there was a lot more friction.

My mouth was salivating and my pussy was lubricating. I
felt impending orgasm.

But couldn’t quite get there. I got on all fours and
fucked her finger as she stood beside and behind me.

“You’re doing well, enjoying this aren’t you?” She
whispered in my ear. She pulled the curtains more
secure around my bed in my private room and locked the
door.

“Roll over on your tummy so I have better access for
your therapy.”

I did as I was told. She started to stimulate me and
then she pulled out of my butt and gave me another
directive.

“Put your hand under yourself, right where your panties
would go.”

Done.

“Put your hand down over your pubis. And put your
fingers inside your labia, your pussy lips. Do you
understand?”

“Like this?” I asked, not understanding at first.

“Put your fingers on your clit like you do at home and
play with yourself, make yourself feel good.” She
guided authoritatively. Debauchery in the making.

“Here?”

“Yes here.”

“Now?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes now. Right here and right now. Go ahead. You have
my permission. You need release. Make yourself feel
good. It’s a medical necessity.” She instructed quite
seriously and pompously.

Then it dawned on me, I needn’t act so innocently. I
may as well drop all pretense and go along with her.
When would I ever get a situation like this again to
see how far she would go? After all I was leaving in a
few days. Finally.

Then I began swishing my clit button between my index
and my “fuck you” finger.

My other hand pinched my left nipple. She noted that
and smiled dotingly.

“Come on, you can do better than that, make yourself
come. Can you?”

“I need help. My hands are getting tired and starting
to hurt.”

She took her bare finger and inserted it in my already
slick rectum, twisting turning plunging like a piston
gone mad. GOD DAMN. I hadn’t felt this good in months.
I was feeling no pain.

I was excited, my hormones were high (close to my
period), and the woman was sexually stimulating me with
a medical procedure. Lucky me. She was a turn on.

In more ways than one.

All of a sudden I moaned and cried out, ARRGGHH! Stop!
I’m cumming!”

“Come on little girl. You’re doing such a good job. I’m
pleased.”

My eyes brimmed with tears and I cried and shook at the
same time, she turned me on my back and took me in her
strong RN arms for a hug.

“Tonight when your husband comes to see you, I’m going
to lock you two in here for a half hour. I believe good
old fashioned marital therapy would do you good!

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