When I was in my early thirties, I developed an unusual condition that simultaneously upset several of my bodily systems. None of the doctors I saw at the time had ever seen a similar combination of events and the only solution seemed to be monitoring everything in the hospital until things calmed down and I could resume a normal life. Fortunately, it didn't happen very often and by my mid forties had only hospitalized me on three occasions.
A week after my 47th birthday I found myself in the hospital for the fourth time. The doctors planned to keep me there for five days while testing and monitoring my condition. They were hoping to normalize and strengthen each misbehaving system in the hope I would remain symptom free when I left the hospital. Monday was my first day in the hospital. After admission, I was probed and tested for the morning and the early afternoon. I was resting in my private room after a hospital healthy lunch, wondering how I could get a decent cheeseburger or pizza delivered, when she entered my room.
She was the nurse assigned to me. She was about five foot ten inches tall with longish ash blond hair stacked on top of her head. She wore a white, one-piece, starched nurse's tunic I thought had gone out of style during the Clinton administration. It had buttons down the front and a skirt that ended just inches from her knees. The top two buttons were undone and rest were strained by a bust line only imagined by oversexed, teenage boys and 47-year-old men. She introduced herself as Lacie, which matched the name on the badge pinned on her left breast that I had somehow missed while memorizing the rest of her super structure. Lacie explained that she would be my exclusive aide for the entire week. She told me she would be staying in the hospital at night and if I needed anything, anytime, I should use the call button and she would be notified.
Lacie then began to adjust the various dials and knobs that controlled the monitoring equipment recording my every twitch, sneeze and cough. Lacie was on the right side of my bed and the equipment was installed on the left side, facing the bed. Instead of walking around the bed to make the adjustments, Lacie leaned over the bed, and me, to reach the controls. I assume this was to avoid having to reposition the equipment to see what she was doing. I didn't complain since while leaning over me her ample breasts hovered near my face and eventually brushed my nose and lips. The bottom of her skirt also rode up the back of her legs revealing the backs of her smooth, long, bare legs. It became obvious to me that not all my body's systems were impaired.
I've never been shy about taking advantage of any situation. That's possibly the reason I've never been married. While Lacie was leaning forward, I placed my right hand on the back of her thigh and rubbed up about six inches. Lacie stopped what she was doing, leaned up a little and looked me in the eyes. I rubbed her thigh a second time. She smiled, wiggled her backside slightly and leaned down further; this time pressing her breasts into my face., I rubbed her thigh several more times, reaching to the lower edge of her panties before she stood up, apparently happy with the results of her adjustments. She smiled at me, patted me gently on the cheek and left the room.
Tuesday morning was more of the same, more testing and probing. I was back in my room before noon. Following an unmemorable lunch, I began to wonder when Lacie would appear. I didn't have to wait long. Lacie walked into the room with a runway-like cadence and closed the door. She was dressed identically to the day before except the top four buttons on her tunic top were unbuttoned. The result was an astonishing display of mammary cleavage and the distinct possibility of the absence of a bra. I held my breath wondering if she was going to repeat yesterday's equipment-setting performance. I wasn't disappointed. With a smile that warmed my heart and raised my libido, Lacie squeezed up close to my bed and leaned over to reach the equipment controls on the opposite side of the bed. I immediately placed my right hand on her bare thigh and moved up to the hem of her panties. At the same time, I used my left hand to attempt to unbutton more of her tunic. Lacie reacted to my attempt by lifting her torso slightly to ease my unbuttoning effort and, when I slid my hand under her tunic and over her naked breast, she sighed slightly and supported herself with her hand on the bed while I explored and gently squeezed her breast. When I pushed her tunic aside to expose her breast and moved to raise my head, she shifted slightly so I could get my lips on the business portion of her breast. Meanwhile, my right hand had moved under the hem of her panties and was rubbing and squeezing the most impressive left cheek I'd ever experienced. We spent several minutes like that and when my right hand moved down between her cheeks she stood upright, ending the moment.
Lacie stood alongside my bed with a huge smile while she rebuttoned her tunic, except for the top two buttons. I was extremely disappointed wondering if I had just blown what could have been a most pleasurable experience. When she finished buttoning up she leaned close to my right ear and whispered, "Next time champ," and left the room. I was astonished, amazed and ecstatic. I knew Lacie and I were on a path to much more and I couldn't wait until tomorrow.
Later that afternoon, three doctors who were working on my condition came by to talk. They told me the testing had confirmed a theory they had developed since my last hospitalization. They believed they understood what was happening enough to recommend a possible treatment. Over several months, they had developed a combination of drugs and natural herbs they felt had a real possibility to manage my condition. They were prepared to administer the compound if I agreed and understood the possible side effects.
Of course, I was interested and expressed my wish to hear more of what they were offering. The doctors then explained that the compound they had developed might reverse the trend of my weakening body systems and might provide a treatment protocol that would prevent future hospitalizations. However, while they were confident the weakening systems would respond positively, since the treatment would affect all body systems, they were unable to predict the effect on unaffected portions of my body. If I agreed, they would recommend a treatment now and each of the next three days and I would go home on Saturday. After that they felt a prophylactic dose once a week or even as infrequently a once a month.
I immediately agreed. That train was not leaving the station without me. One of the doctors left the room and soon returned with a large glass of water and a spoon. He placed the water on the rolling table by the bed. He then removed a small vial from the pocket of his white coat. He opened the vial, poured a gray powder into the glass of water and stirred it up. He offered the glass to me to drink and I downed it in three large swallows.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
They told me it would be best to remain in bed, resting, for as much of the time as I could tolerate to allow the treatment to work and they would be back the next day for the next treatment.
Wednesday morning was endless. With no testing and only daytime television, I was desperate for some attention. In desperation, I used the call button just to see a familiar face. Lacie came into the room with her usual smile and tightly buttoned tunic.
"Are you alright?"
"Yep."
