Here I was at age 62, back in the hospital for my third go around with an arterial blockage. Three years ago I had suffered a heart attack while on an airplane returning from a business trip and had gone through this life-saving angioplasty procedure where a cardiologist implants a metal stent in the blocked artery to increase blood flow. The procedure includes inserting a thin wire, holding a balloon and stent, through an artery in your groin and up into your heart where the blockage is located. The surgeon can maneuver the contraption by looking at a monitor with a moving X-ray image of your heart and arteries. The balloon is inflated and the stent inserted which keeps the artery open and blood flowing. Quite magnificent technology.
This was the third time and I already knew the routine and was actually looking forward to part of it. Here's how everything unfolded.
I had been feeling bad for a week, and by Saturday morning, I started feeling those same symptoms, pain in the middle of my back, exhaustion, shortness of breath. When I told my wife she immediately demanded we head for the hospital. I didn't argue. I did not feel good at all.
When we arrived at the emergency room they immediately took me back to an exam room where they had me remove my shirt and hooked up a machine with several stickies and wires that confirmed I had a blockage, but not yet a heart attack. That was the good news. My cardiologist arrived several hours later and and scheduled the procedure for the next morning.
They admitted me and by 5:00 pm wheeled me to a room where the nurse instructed me to disrobe and put on the standard hospital gown with the opening to the rear. You know the routine!
Once I was completely naked I slipped my arms through the gown and my wife helped me tie the cords around my neck and one other one on the back. I got onto the bed and my wife covered me with a sheet and blanket. A middle-aged female orderly returned and I began the process of being hooked up to several monitors, having an IV stuck in my right arm, with strict instructions not to move that arm, and over the next several hours being visited by a couple of nurses who explained the familiar (to me) procedure for tomorrow, and the same older female orderly who brought me water and a urine bottle, with instructions I was to only use the bottle because they needed to measure my urine flow.
By 8:00 pm I talked my wife into going home, because she was tired, and I really didn't need for her to suffer along with me. I told her I would be fine. In the back of my mind, I also did not want her to be in the room when the orderly was prepping me for surgery later that night, because the shaving of my pubic hair by a female orderly had become one of the positives of these procedures.
Three years earlier, the first time I went through this, I was really ill and a 30-something female orderly shaved me while a male nurse was hooking me up to the monitors. Two years later, the second time I had a stent implanted, the nurse herself, an attractive 50-something Filipino, shaved me while a couple of young female candy stripers took my pulse while they "checked out the old man's equipment!" I almost lost control of myself that time and did feel my penis begin to thicken and swell, but I was able to keep from embarrassing myself with a room full of people.
Both of these first two procedures happened during the day with lots of people around, but now my male nurse explained that the orderly would be in later that night to prep me for the next morning's procedure. I realized I would probably be alone with the orderly, and I have to admit I was somewhat excited and looking forward to see how things would unfold.
Around 11:00 pm the night shift orderly knocked on my door and peeked in. I was surprised to see an attractive, heavy set middle aged black woman, dressed in green scrubs, with a bright smile which showed off her perfectly straight white teeth and full lips. She introduced herself as Ruby and explained that she would be returning later to prep me. She asked if there was anything she could do for me and I explained to her that I really needed to urinate, but the other orderly explained that I was not to use my right arm where the IV was attached. I said I didn't think I could hold the bottle and urinate with one hand "without spilling something."
Without so much as giving it a second thought she pulled on a pair of latex gloves, reached for the empty bottle and pulled back the blanket and lifted my gown. She told me to lean on my side toward her the held the mouth of the curved bottle close to my flacid four-inch penis as she lifted it and placed a few inches inside the wide opening of the bottle and informed me it was OK to "cut loose." We both sort of laughed as I relaxed my bladder and allowed it to empty into the bottle with a strong heavy stream.
I could hear the sound of my urine striking the liquid in the bottom of the bottle and she commented that I "must have really needed to go." It seemed like a full minute had passed before I could tell by the sound that the bottle was beginning to fill rapidly and could feel her adjusting the angle of the bottle to hold more urine.
I looked up at her face as she intently watched what was going on as the bottle filled with my warm golden urine. She was very professional as she pull my penis out so that only the glans was inside the bottle. She didn't want my penis to become submerged in my urine. For that I was grateful.
I finally able to shut off the flow to a trickle and gave it a couple of more squirts. I couldn't help the fact that my penis had now began to stiffen slightly from the feel of her warm fingers. When I told her I was done, she expertly shook my penis to remove the last drop or two. This caused me to stiffen even more as she pulled the bottle out and set it on the portable table next to my bed. Shen then reached for a Kleenex and carefully dried off the now swollen glans of my penis then covered me with my gown and blanket. I glanced over and saw that the bottle was almost filled to the top. She noted the amount then took it into the bathroom and dumped it in the toilette.
She then explained that she would return later to "prep" me for tomorrow's procedure. She asked me if I had any questions and I told her the nurse had already explained every thing. "Good" she said, then told me to push the call button when I was ready for her to "prep" me.
After she left I realized that it was just going to be me and her alone as she shaved me "down there." I now realized she was a true professional and had probably helped hundreds of men urinate and probably some of them had developed uncontrollable erections. Nevertheless, I felt another slight twinge in my penis as my excitement level began to rise. I also felt a bit of embarrassment because I was not sure if I could control myself from developing a full erection when she prepped me. Nevertheless, as I reached down and felt my semi-stiff penis and scratched my soft scrotum and egg sized balls, I decided to get it over with, and pushed the call button. I looked up at the clock and saw it was 11:45 pm.
Within a minute the door cracked open and Ruby walked in carrying her shaving gear in a large bowl. I watched her as she began to organize her tools and lay them out on the portable table next to my bed. She then took some white tape and began to make loops with the sticky side out. After she made about a half dozen loops she unfolded a large white towel. She pulled the blanket down to my feet and told me to lift my hips so she could spread the towel beneath me. As I raised my hips my gown fell to my waist exposing my semi-erect penis and my low hanging scrotum. I glanced up at her face as she leaned over me to stretch out the towel beneath me. Her hand bumped my scrotum as her heavy low hanging breasts rested heavily on my stomach.
