Chapter 1

I pulled into a stall in the visitors' lot, put it in park and reached for my cane. Gingerly I eased myself from the driver's seat and hobbled toward the building. Upon reaching the vestibule I pressed the button.

"Yes?" came a voice through the intercom.

"It's Nick."

"Be right down."

Leaning on my cane I waited for her. Soon I saw Cindy appear. "Is this okay?" she asked and modeled her outfit -- a little, black sleeveless dress.

"Lovely," I replied as I regarded her. Cindy was petite and slightly built. She had unruly red hair that extended down her back, green eyes and freckles on either side of her nose. Her complexion was peaches-and-cream, with a slight ruddy mottle; and broader freckles covered her shoulders and upper arms. Although not most folk's idea of beautiful, she was by no means unattractive. Her forehead was high and broad, and her nose and chin were strong. Her lips naturally formed a sort of permanent pout; however, she had apple cheeks and a pretty smile. We had been dating for about three months.

Together we headed back to my car. I pressed the button on the key fob to release the door locks. She slipped into the passenger seat and I eased myself behind the wheel.

"I'll take that," she said and held my cane.

"Thanks." After backing out of the parking space I headed for a boulevard that, once out of town, became a county trunk highway.

I turned onto a town road. We were headed for The Reef. It was a historic building -- originally a stagecoach inn, once on a busy canal but now out in the middle of the country. Nonetheless it had a well-deserved reputation for excellence.

"Have you been here before?" Cindy asked me.

"Often ... as a kid," I replied. "They have some game items on the menu. I was fascinated with the idea of eating frogs' legs or grouse."

"I hope they have some good old domestic chicken." I hate the idea of frogs sitting in little wheelchairs."

"Right ... Here we are."

I parked in front of the establishment. Cindy handed me my cane and helped me out of the car. "Your knee still bothering you?" she asked.

"Yes and especially today."

"What does your doctor say?"

"He said give it another week or so and if there's no improvement he'll send me to a specialist ... for a laproscopic look-see."

Cindy grimaced. "Let's hope you get some improvement. I hate seeing you..."

"Disabled? Maybe there's a silver lining. Maybe I qualify for a cripple tag so I can park in the handicap spots."

We were shown our table and handed menus. "I see the frogs' legs and grouse," she remarked. "Also eel ... rabbit stew ... I think I'll go with the lake perch almandine."

"Maybe I'll just go with a salad."

She reached across the table and took my hand. "Nick -- what's the matter? You've been down all evening. Is it your knee?"

"My knee is the least of it. Let's leave it at that." I squeezed her hand. "Sorry, babe. I'm not feeling myself and I don't have an appetite."

"I understand. You can't predict when you'll get sick..."

"Or blow out your knee?"

"That either. You were so patient with me when I was sick ... I guess I need to be patient, too."****

We headed back into town. Cindy held my hand. "Nick -- what is it? What's wrong? I'm a nurse..."

"I know you're a nurse."

"Maybe I can suggest something to help."

"It's this pain medication I'm taking."

"Which is?"

"He has me on oxy."

"Oxycodone?"

"That's the stuff."

"Is it not working?"

"Oh, it helps ... helps with the pain. But -- there's this side effect ... I'd rather not talk about it."

"Don't be shy."

"It has me ... bound up. Okay?"

"As in ... constipated?"

"That's the technical term for it," I replied with some sarcasm.

"Opioid induced constipation ... OIC. We see it all the time. Have you discussed this with your doctor?"

"Of course I have. He's suggested laxatives and softeners. It's just been getting worse as time goes on. He had me try something specially formulated for this..."

"Methylnaltrexone?" she suggested.

I shrugged. "Coulda been."

"Did it help?"

"I dunno. I was on it for only two days -- the stuff neutralized the oxy and the pain was back."

"That can happen. When was the last time you were able to..."

"Four days ago. I seriously felt like I was shitting a brick ... sideways."

"Did your doctor mention taking an enema?"

I drew in a breath. "He did suggest it as an option. It's not an option I relish."

"Why not?"

"I know nothing about them and I'm not about to go to a clinic and have some stranger poking around back there."

"Let me help you take one," she replied. "Speaking as a nurse, it's something I know a fair bit about; and, speaking as your girlfriend and frequent bed mate -- I'm no stranger."

"Geez ... no thanks."

"I guarantee that not only will you get relief, but afterward you will feel better than you've felt in a long time."

"You can guarantee that?"

"Double your money back."

"It's an easy guarantee to make."

"You really will feel better, Nick. Tell you what ... If we do this and you don't feel great afterward -- you can ask me to do anything and I won't turn you down."

"Anything?" I glanced toward her in the passenger seat.

"Anything."

"Hmmm ... All right. Seems there's nothing to lose."

We reached her apartment building. She opened the main lobby door with her passkey and we rode the elevator to her floor. I followed her into her apartment.

Cindy was a neat freak, so her place was spotless. From a closet she withdrew a bath towel. "Give me a few minutes to get ready. In the meantime, spread this on the bed."

"Okay..." I spread the towel and sat on her bed. She disappeared into her walk-in closet and by now I was seriously regretting that I had agreed to this. Then, Cindy reappeared dressed in maroon scrubs instead of the little black dress. "Do you really need to dress for the part?" I asked.

"I'm more comfortable doing this in these." From her closet she produced a folding, portable I.V. stand that she set up near the bed. "Have you ever had an enema before?" she asked.

"When I was a kid ... My mom gave them to me whenever I had a stomach flu or the like. I think the last one I had was when I was nine or ten. I don't remember much ... except I dreaded them."

"Don't fret -- I am an expert at this," She said. "You are in good hands."

Cindy stepped out of the bedroom and returned with a tray containing a box of facial tissue, a tube of surgical lube and a box of exam gloves. She left and returned carrying a fountain syringe, its red reservoir full and bulging. From it was a plastic hose terminated with a hard plastic nozzle. This she hung on the I.V. stand and adjusted the height.

"We need access to your bottom," she said.

"Right..." I slipped out of my pants and briefs and sat on her bed, eyeing the bulging red bag. "How much is in that?"

"Two quarts," she replied.

"Looks like a lot."

"Two quarts is your standard, adult dose. It's tap water with a small amount of castile soap added."

"Soap? Why soap?"

"It gives the enema a bit of a kick ... and if you're as bound up as you say you are, you're going to need all the help you can get. Now -- lie on your left side. I'm going to put some lube on you."

Cindy pulled an exam glove onto her right hand and picked up the tube of lube with her left. After snapping open the cap she squeezed some onto her finger. "Now, just relax. Relaxation is critical to success."

Her fingers spread my buttocks and I felt the cold lube on my skin. Then, she pushed her finger inside me. "Wasn't expecting that," I remarked.

"Just checking for anything that would counter-indicate what we're doing. You look perfectly normal back here. Now, I'm going to insert the nozzle." I felt the hard tip easing into my anal canal. "Everything feel okay?" she asked.

"So far..."

"I'll describe what you should expect," she said and I could tell she was in full Nurse mode. "When I start the flow, first your rectum will fill and expand. This may give you a sense of needing to go. You'll need to resist that urge and hold it back. In a little while the enema will begin to flow higher into your colon. It might be an unfamiliar sensation but it should not be unpleasant. I have the bag hanging kinda low so we'll be going slowly at first. You might feel pressure or cramping. If you do, let me know and I'll stop the flow until your colon relaxes and the pressure eases. Understand?"

"Understood."

"You shouldn't feel any real pain."

"That's a relief," I interjected.

"Any cramping we'll deal with by slowing down the flow. As the enema progresses you may begin to feel fullness in your belly or a sense of bloat. That's normal. Understand?"

"Roger dodger."