Hen Party

bypapadog©

Copyright 1998 Del Edwards (a nom de plume)

I was already lying face up on the operating table wearing just my briefs when Joan Higley, the nurse who had gone over the paperwork with me, reappeared at my side.

"You were right. There are three sites to be excised, not two," she said as she held up the clipboard with the release form attached. "I just listed the third one so now I need you to initial the form beside number three."

"I can't see the form without my glasses," I told her.

"You can trust me, I'm a nurse," she said.

"Yeah but you're a woman too," I replied. My remark brought verbal responses from all three women in the room with me.

"Wrong thing to say when you are outnumbered three to one and flat on your back," said Marsha Dunn, M.D. dressed in a white lab coat over her street clothes. She had short very dark brown hair framing a nice face and little round glasses with black steel frames. She was a small boned woman and quite trim based on the slim ankles and shapely calves showing under the lab coat. Also there was no excess flesh in her chin-throat area and she didn't have the beginning of chubby cheeks like the ones the lady surgeon was growing. Of course she was at least fifteen years younger than the surgeon. Dr.Dunn, I decided was compact and strong for her size and probably alternated weight work and jogging six days a week.

I was playing a little game with myself, maybe to beat back the anxiety of knowing that the third woman in the room would soon be carving skin cancer off my face in three different locations. I call it the Remember Names Game. I was doing well so far--Nurse Joan Higley; Marsha Dunn, M. D., the anesthesiologist; and of course the surgeon, Doctor Christina Cage.

There was another automatic game going on at another level in my head. I call that one Scope, Compile & File. I think a lot of men do it ... like I said it's automatic. Christina Cage, for example, was a little overweight with the excess stored in her hips and thighs, had a well supported bustline under the green silk blouse she was wearing the day I went to her office for a consult prior to the surgery. She had nice light brown hair done in a sort of a Heddy Lamar do. A nice small nose, I call it a chicken nose because it had a little raised portion about two thirds of the way up from the tip. It was the central feature of her pleasant face. I never got to scope her ankles that day because she was wearing slacks.

Nurse Higley was wearing those baggy green scrubs so I had to work with a minimum of data. Based on her high cheekbones, the absence of excess flesh in her face and neck and the slim angular appearance of her wrists and hands, I was ready to bet she would look pretty good without her clothes.

Someone put a very hard little pillow-more like a sandbag under the back of my head. Dr. Dunn was on my right tying my right arm outstretched to the armboard she had slid under the pad of the operating table. My own body weight was holding it in place. Next she attached several leads to my torso with adhesive pads and clamped something around my right ankle. I was being wired up. The last attachment was clamped to my right index finger. I enjoyed her touch as I felt her work.

"Great veins," she commented. "I could put an IV in you from across the room. You're going to feel a little stick," she advised. She stung the back of my hand with her IV needle and taped it in place. "Don't be alarmed if your arm suddenly feels cold, I am just going to run a little saline as a double check--no drugs--want to make sure our lifeline is operating." I felt the coolness in my forearm for a few seconds and then it went away.

Nurse Higley was pulling the sheet tight between my body and my left arm. I felt her wrap it snuggly over my left arm and push it under my back pinning my left arm to my side. Now both my arms were immobilized. I felt like I had become a captive of these women, vulnerable, defenseless. I fought with that imaginary monster while I listened for whatever was coming next. The brightness from the huge overhead light hurt my eyes so much that I had closed them.

"This is the part that I don't like the most," I heard Dr. Cage say. "You're going to feel some sticks." I felt six or seven cool swabs and smelled the alcohol before each stick. "Okay, we're done with that," she said. "If you feel any pain during the procedure, let me know and I'll give you some more," she added. I was truly touched by her compassion but said nothing.

"I'm going to swab the field now, make it sterile. Keep your eyes closed," I heard Nurse Joan Higley say. There was the strong odor of betadine, sort of like iodine with something added. She firmly scrubbed the areas on my eyebrow and cheek where the surgeon would soon be carving on me.

I went into myself and found that I was both enjoying and was embarrassed by the attention I was getting from these three women. A perfect paradox, I thought to myself. Sometime later Dr. Cage was back. "Feel that?" she asked.

"No," I told her.

"Feel that?" she asked again.

"No."

"Good," she said.

The hen party started very soon after that. The chatter among the three women was about, children, pets, vacations, with an occasional departure into the medical moment at hand. Dr. Cage wanted a number four blade ... stuff like that. I listened for the pecking order as a way to amuse myself since I seemed to be excluded from the conversation. The surgeon quickly established herself as the dominant one because she was doing most of the talking. Pretty young Dr. Dunn was asking questions and responding briefly to Surgeon Cage, a deference that quickly became obvious. Nurse Higley came in with a question or comment occasionally, just to hold her third place position in the trio.

I also plotted their positions relative to me. Someone, probably Nurse Joan Higley, had placed a cool, heavy object across my eyes somewhere back in the stream of time and events after I was partially immobilized on the table. I relied on my sense of hearing to locate them. The surgeon was closest of course at twelve o'clock, just above my head. Dr. Marsha Dunn was at two or three beyond my outstretched right arm, sitting on a stool watching my vital signs on her monitor. Nurse Higley was at ten o'clock in close, responding to the directions of Surgeon Cage.

There came a lull when the specimens went to pathology. The woman chatter picked up to fill the silence. Dr. Cage was very concerned about her son who had to find another apartment in Miami because his roommate had flunked out of school and he couldn't afford the rent on the big apartment alone. She was leaving this afternoon on a flight to Florida to help him find a place of his own and buy some inexpensive furniture so he could concentrate on school.

Dr. Dunn was married and had two young pre-schoolers that she adored and wanted to find a nanny for so she didn't have to leave them in childcare. Higley was divorced and had a Queens Island Heeler for companionship. That started Cage into the money and affection she had for her three dogs and the size of the vet and grooming bills. She also bemoaned the long drive to her isolated desert home each morning and evening. She even mentioned her husband and how he rattled around the huge house with the dogs scampering under his feet. The husband seemed to have a priority behind her son and her dogs.

'Does that really surprise you?' I said to myself. 'No, that's entirely consistent with my own experience,' myself said to myself as I answered my own question in my head.

"How you doing down there?" Christina asked. Suddenly I was the fourth entity in the room. She was indeed the director of this play.

"I'm okay except for a full bladder," I told her.

"Well, I'm on a schedule. I can't let you up--you want to try a urinal or hold it?" she asked.

"I'll give it a try," I said. I felt the thin blanket being peeled off my hips and legs. Hands grasp the waistband of my briefs and I reflexively raised my hips so she could pull them down. Then I felt warmth of her fingers as she lifted my penis and then the coolness of the urinal as she slid it into place.

"If this doesn't work we can always use a catheter," Nurse Joan Higley said brightly. "Do you know what that is?" she asked.

"He knows. I can see it on the monitor," firm and compact Dr. Dunn said from three o'clock.

"Are you sure your bladder is what needs relieving," Joan asked. "You're half erect."

"I can see that on the monitor too. He's excited," Dr. Marsha Dunn said.

"Are you sure this isn't just a way of getting me to play with you," Nurse Joan asked.

"I'm not that creative," I responded.

"Well, I guess I have a trust issue with men just like you do with women," she admitted.

"I could always sedate him so he wouldn't enjoy what's happening," Marsha Dunn chuckled.

"No, we need to go the other way," Nurse Joan remarked.

"As in aprostadil," Dr. Dunn suggested

"Sure. Wouldn't even have to do a direct stick, just an IV push," Nurse Joan giggled.

"Now girls, let's behave. You'll have the man wondering what you're talking about and he'll get uneasy," Dr. Cage commented. "You didn't get much of that, did you sir," she added.

"No, but I'm going to trust you to explain it to me since they seem to want to talk in medical code," I said.

"Oheee, there's that trust thing again," Dr. Christina Cage said. I waited a few seconds and heard a long exhale come from her position. "What they said was that it was not necessary to inject the drug directly into your penis, that they could just administer it to you through the IV in your hand."

"What drug?" I asked.

"Aprostadil. It would cause you to have an erection. They were just kidding ... I think," she said.

"There's a drug that will do that?" I asked

"Yes, would you like to try it?" interjected pretty and petite Dr. Marsha Dunn

"Doctor!" Dr. Cage exclaimed.

"Why not? He's kind of a chauvinist. There's a part of me that wouldn't mind walking out of here with him lying on the table with an erection he can't use pointing toward the ceiling... I don't think he needs the drug. He's still quite excited," Dr. Marsha Dunn said.

"Hard too. I think I'll change my name to Aprostadil if I'm that good," Nurse Joan laughed.

"This has gotten completely out of hand. You two settle down," Dr. Christina Cage ordered in a stern tone. A little later Dr. Cage announced that she was finished and was leaving to write a couple of prescriptions that the aftercare nurse would give me later. It was very quiet in the operating room.

I knew the sisterhood was still alive and well when the coldness returned to my right forearm. "I hope you and Dick have a good trip," I heard Marsha Dunn, M.D., say as her fingers lightly tapped the back of my hand. Five minutes later the coolness was gone from my right arm. I felt the IV being removed. I was also aware that I had an aching erection. The cool, heavy object across my eyes was still in place when her warm wetness enveloped my throbbing cock.

"Oh, yessss," I heard her say as the weight of her hips settled onto my loins.

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