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Simon laid on the bed, carefully washed clean with all the mud removed by the nurses in the casualty department who dressed him in the open backed gown. He was lying on top of the bed clothes, covered by a white cellular blanket with his left leg splinted on both sides with wooden splints and bandaged together firmly. He'd been given a rather painful intramuscular injection into his right thigh, to help with the pain, which left him feeling sleepy and with a rather pleasant floating feeling as he waited his turn to be taken from the orthopaedic ward to the plaster theatre to have his leg set in plaster. He grimaced as he remembered the sickening crack which sounded like a gunshot and the pain following that rather late tackle which had snapped both bones in his lower leg. The curtains around his bed were parted for a moment as a nurse came in carrying a clear glass urinal. She lifted his gown without a by-your-leave and placed the urinal over his penis. “I'd like you to pass urine for me into the bottle, please, before you get taken down to theatre. I'll be back in a few minutes to finish getting you ready and to check you've passed urine for me.” She slipped out again through the curtains leaving Simon to dwell upon the memory of the last times he'd been asked to use a urinal. Because of his reverie and the pain he was in, he didn't manage to pass any urine.
He'd been nine or ten at the time as he'd had a lot of trouble then with his milk teeth and had to have several extractions. His dental surgery where his mother took him was a big one with one dentist just doing extractions with gas. He'd been down in the surgery where his dentist poked at his teeth and, turning to his mother, said, “These ones here and here (pointing to them with that pick type instrument he used) needs to come out as the permanent teeth beneath seem to be having problems pushing them out. I suggest that he has one out today and you bring him back next week for the other one to be removed. I presume you have made sure he hasn't had anything to eat or drink this morning?” His mother reassured the dentist that was indeed the case. On a dentist morning, he wasn't allowed breakfast just in case the dentist wanted him to have a tooth out: this had happened before with the dentist recommending that course of action so Simon didn't have to come back for treatment. The dental nurse removed the small rubber bib from Simon and, holding out her hand, helped him out of the chair. Simon's mother went to the main waiting room while the nurse, taking Simon's chart with the request for the teeth to be extracted a week apart, upstairs to the dentist who would remove one tooth today and the other the following week.
There was a c***dren's waiting room and an adult waiting room for gas, with a dental nurse in the c***dren's room to keep the c***dren happy by playing with them until their turn came. There was a toilet off the adult waiting room and a rather larger one for the c***dren. Simon was handed over to the care of the upstairs nurse while the downstairs nurse took his chart in to the dentist who would do the extraction that day. Simon was the only c***d in there. The dentist had a policy of taking c***dren out of order before any adults waiting, even if they had a booked time, as he didn't want the c***dren to be waiting too long and getting distressed. The nurse was wearing a green gown with a red rubber mackintosh apron covering the front of it. Simon always associated the smell of rubber with the dentist for that very reason. “Come with me, pet. He's nearly finished with his present patient and he won't be long before he can see to you,” she said to Simon, holding out her hand to him. She took him by the hand into the large toilet and shut the door. There she undid his shorts and dropped them to his ankles, Hooking her thumbs, covered in the rubber gloves she always wore, into his underwear (always a clean pair put on just before he left the house to go to the dentist!) and pulled them down round his ankles too. She turned to pick up a clear glass urinal, just like the one the nurse in the hospital had given him. Standing behind Simon, she held it over his exposed penis and said, “Try to be a good boy for me and use the bottle. You must try to pass some urine for me, or you know what happens!” Simon tried for her as he always did, but he found great difficulty in 'starting', especially like that in public with someone watching. At school, he found great difficulty in using the toilet when other boys were there as he was essentially a shy lad and had a shy bladder to match! Despite his efforts, for which the nurse couldn't fault him, no golden stream or even a trickle entered the glass urinal. “I'm sorry,” Simon said, “It's no use, I can't go.” “Never mind, pet,” came her reply, “You've tried for me. You know what to do next, don't you?” Simon bent down as she put the urinal back on the shelf next the the small bedpan which Simon guessed correctly was for the girls. He had a younger sister and was aware that she didn't use a toilet as he did. He undid his shoes and kicked them off, then removed his socks. shorts and underpants, handing them to the dental nurse for her to fold up and put on the shelf. As he stood there bare from the waist down, she reached onto the shelf, muttering to herself, “These look about his size,” as she picked up a pair of terry towelling knickers and blue rubber pants. The terry towelling knickers were made of several layers of terry towelling with extra thickness of towelling between the legs for girls and up the front for boys. They had drawstrings at waist and thighs running in hems like pyjamas so that they could fit snugly on the appropriate c***d. The terry towelling at the sides was white from where they were boiled after use, although the towelling had yellow stains in the crotch and the front from repeated soakings as well as an orange stain between the legs where c***dren had passed more than just urine into them. She held them out as Simon, having worn them, or similar pairs, several times before, stepped into them. She pulled the drawstrings around his waist and thighs, tying the cords in neat bows, so that the waist and legs were tightly closed. The pair of blue rubber pants followed and were fitted to him, making sure that all of the towelling knickers were inside the tight waist and thigh elastics which cut into his legs and waist to ensure no leaks. Just as she'd finished, the anaesthetic nurse came in. “Oh good, you've got him ready. You can bring him through now!” The toilet floor was linoleum and cold on Simon's feet. As he was led out through the c***dren's waiting room, a young girl was sitting there, playing with her dolly while waiting for the nurse to come to her. She smiled as she looked down and saw Simon's blue rubber pants over the towelling knickers. Simon knew she'd be wearing the same sort of knickers and pink rubber pants whether she went to the toilet or not, as it was dental surgery practice to put young c***dren in the knickers and pants 'just in case' anyway. He wondered whether she'd manage to pass anything in the bedpan in a moment for the nurse, or whether, like him, she'd be unsuccessful. Part of her smile at seeing Simon in his rubbers was her secret thought that she'd make the right noises for the dental nurse so that she could wet herself as she was gassed to feel the warmth spreading between her legs as she did so.
Simon was led into the surgery with a nurse taking a hand each. The dentist was there with his big rubber apron and cotton mask over his nose and mouth. “Come on in, Simon,” he bellowed in his gruff voice. The dental chair was covered in black rubber with a strategically placed towel for Simon's hips in case he should leak during the extraction, although the thick nappy knickers would soak up all but the very biggest outpouring. At the head of the chair was a rubber head rest with two raised portions either side to restrain the person's head. This was removable for different sized rests for adults and c***dren. “Hop on the chair, young man and let's see these teeth which are getting in the way.” Simon remembered that he'd done the dentist's bidding and opened wide as the dentist looked with his mirror to see the offending teeth. “Ah yes!” the dentist said, “One at the top back each side. Yes, I agree that we should take one out today and the other next week as you'll find it easier to eat as you can chew on one side for a week and swap sides next week. All right, young man?” Simon was happy as it meant another visit to the dentist and further gassings. “Pop up again and let the nurse put the bib on you.” Simon stood as the nurse held out the special bib with closed sleeves into which Simon put his arms. It was made of red rubber mackintosh sheeting with a collar which came up under the chin to protect clothing. As Simon stood there, the nurse did up the straps at the back so that the c***d was held in a sort of rubber strait jacket to prevent them from struggling as they were gassed. She then helped Simon lie down in the chair. The rubber covering of the chair struck cold against the backs of Simon's legs. The dentist asked Simon, “Right or left tooth out today?” Simon replied that it was up to the dentist to choose. “Left it is today, then,” the dentist replied, “Open wide, please.” Simon did his bidding as the wedge shaped rubber prop was pushed between his teeth on the right of his mouth to keep his mouth open. The chain from the prop was clipped to the bib which covered Simon in red rubber from chin to just where his rubber pants started. Simon hated the way his mouth was wedged open as the sides of his jaw always ached afterwards, but he realised why it was necessary. The black vulcanised rubber also had a funny taste, not as pleasant as the smell from the other rubber items in the surgery.
Simon turned to look at the anaesthetic machine with its tall blue cylinders of nitrous oxide and the black cylinders with the white tops which held the oxygen chained to the wall with the pipes coupled to the trolley with the vaporiser for ether and the flow meters for the oxygen and nitrous oxide. There was the large black rubber breathing bag hanging down connected to the black corrugated rubber tubing with fittings for the masks. Behind the machine and on the wall over the cylinders was a glass fronted cupboard with all the different types and sizes of mask, as well as tubes for intubation and larygnoscopes, although Simon at his age didn't know the names for some of the equipment: it was only the hindsight of maturity which informed him as to what he had seen that day. The nurse fastened the strap around his ankles, thighs and attached the special restraining bib to straps either side of the chair, leaving Simon only able to move his head. “Head back now, young man,” the dentist said to Simon as he put the small black rubber nasal mask hissing with the oxygen over his nose and fastened the tubing behind Simon's head so that both the mask was pulled firmly to make a good seal and his his was well restrained. As usual, the mask smelt of the anaesthetics. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon could see the breathing bag inflating and deflating as he breathed the oxygen. Simon was well behaved so wouldn't breathe through his mouth, but,as the dentist said to Simon, “Time to go to sleep now!” As he turned the nitrous oxide up full, the dental nurse put her rubber gloved hand across his mouth, sealing it against any attempts to mouth breathe.
Simon remembered smelling that sweet smell of the nitrous oxide and things began to get blurred as the anaesthetic started to work. The dentist started massaging the bag to make Simon breathe in more of the gas, adding a whiff of ether to take him under quickly and deeply. Simon's throat 'caught' as the ether fumes filled his nose, but by now he was on that downward spiral into u*********sness as his vision blacked out with the feeling as if he was falling down through that black tunnel once again with the roaring in his ears. As this happened, he was aware of his bladder letting go and the warm urine filling the front of his nappy pants.
He awoke with the mask giving him oxygen and the dental nurse holding a suction tube in his mouth so he wouldn't choke on his blood. The dentist, seeing Simon was awake and had come round, although still a little disorientated, as well as nauseous from the ether, disconnected the nasal mask, then raised the chair for his nurse to offer Simon a glass of the pink mouthwash to rinse and spit into the white ceramic bowl beside him with the water jet which constantly flushed round the rim into the drain with that classic gurgling noise. He rinsed twice and then was helped to his feet. The nurse undid the bib and pulled it off him while she offered him some tissue to hold to his mouth. Taking him by the hand, she led him back to the c***dren's waiting room where the little girl, sitting there with the nappy pants covered with the pink rubbers was sitting with another nurse. The nurse with Simon handed him over to the other nurse while she led the little girl out to the surgery for her gassing. As the little girl left, she turned to Simon and gave him a knowing smile. Simon thought to himself, “I bet she didn't empty her bladder either and will soon be wetting her pants!” (Little did he know then, of course, just how right he was!) The other nurse led Simon back into the toilet where she pulled down his blue rubber pants and commented, “My goodness! You're wet! Good job you had our special pants and rubbers on, or you'd have been soaked!” Simon politely agreed as she removed the wet rubbers and pants, then started to wash his 'nappy area' and dry it for him. That too, was part of his 'dental experience' as he enjoyed the close attention of the dental nurses.
The next week was a hot day, so Simon was wearing just his shorts and sandals with no socks. (In those days the dangers of skin cancer were not known and it was common for young c***dren of both sexes to run around in just shorts) The little girl was there as well and she had arrived first. She was already in pink rubbers, nappy pants and a tee shirt. The dental nurse was the one who'd washed Simon the previous week, so she held out her hand and said, “Come on then, Simon, let's get you ready too.” She'd already got a pair of pink rubber pants out for Simon as well as a really thick pair of the nappy knickers with the knickers on top of the folded up pants so Simon wouldn't see the colour of the rubbers until it was too late. She pulled him over to her and said, “Kick your sandals off! We can't get you ready like that!” He removed his sandals, although,, being a good boy, he was careful to unbuckle them properly first. When they were off, the dental nurse put her fingers in his waistband and pulled off both his shorts and his underpants together in front of the little girl. Admittedly he had his back to her, but, as he turned his head, he could see her laughing at him. “Look lively and step into these,” the nurse said, holding out the knickers for him to pull on. He was blushing beetroot red with embarrassment as he did so, then the nurse pulled the drawstrings tight. They were particularly stained yellow in the front area from much use by little boys, even though they'd been boiled after each c***d. She'd half turned him as she tied the drawstrings so that the little girl could see the yellow stains on his knickers, even when the nurse pulled the pink rubbers up over them and tucked all the terry towelling inside the tight waist and leg bands. “All the blue ones are in the wash today, Simon, so I'm afraid we've only got these pink ones, at the moment, as we did a lot of boys yesterday. Can I leave you two alone in here for a minute of two as I have to help change some cylinders. I won't be long. By the way, this is Simon and that's Jane.” With that, she left and shut the door behind her with Simon standing there, bare-footed in just his pink rubbers and nappy knickers underneath
Jane spoke first, “Those pink rubbers suit you. You look sweet in them!” “Don't start,” Simon replied, “it's bad enough having to wear girly pink ones without you rubbing it in.” “I wasn't, “she said. “You really do look sweet in them! By the way, she's not used to working in here or her mind is on other things. I know you weren't offered the toilet first, and neither was I.” “Perhaps she knows that mine were wet last time so she decided she'd have to wash and dry me anyway,” offered Simon. “Mine were soaked too,” she said, as she sat there gently rubbing her hand over the front of her pants. “What are you doing that?” Simon asked. “ 'cos it feels nice,” she said. “I like the feel of rubber pants. I wet my bed at home and my mum puts me in nappies and rubber pants at night. I love it.” Simon was amazed at this sudden revelation. She continued, “I really need to use the toilet 'cos I was hoping to be in there by now with the excuse to wet myself. I'm bursting!” “Well, let it out then,” was Simon's reply, “You can't undo the knickers yourself, can you, so what choice do you have. After all, it's not your fault you weren't allowed to use the toilet.” “What a good idea!” she said, and the concentration which flashed across her face told Simon what she was doing. “That's better. They feel nicer when they're wet!”
At that moment, the usual nurse came in. “Come on, Jane, you first! Did you use the toilet first?” “No,” Jane replied, “I wasn't given the chance to and neither was Simon. We were put straight into our rubbers and knickers.” “Ah well, never mind,” the nurse replied. “They're thick enough to cope anyway.” With that, the door closed as both Jane and the nurse disappeared into the surgery. Simon too was bursting by now as they were running quite late. “What the heck?” he thought as he let some urine trickle out into the nappy knickers, to be soaked up by the thick terry towelling. He slowly released some, leaving a warm wet patch over his front, but holding back ready for his gassing.
After a time, Jane was led back in with a bloody tissue clutched to her mouth. “Are you alright, Jane?” asked Simon. “Fine, thank you, Simon,” she said, winking at him, leading Simon to think she'd wet herself a second time. Simon was led in and the nurse held out the special bib. “You won't get any blood on your top today, Simon,” she said to him, “as you're not wearing one! Still, better put it on you anyway, just in case.” As he put his arms into it, he shivered at the tough of the cold rubber, slightly damp where Jane had been sweating during her extraction. It was a different dentist this time. “My Jones is on holiday and I'm standing in for him from the local hospital, Simon. I do things a little differently, so just lie in the chair and we'll soon have you asleep.” Simon was helped into the chair and was strapped in over ankles, thighs and the rubber bib was strapped down. The dentist asked simon to open his mouth as the hard black rubber prop was put in on the left side this time. With the prop in place and the chain clipped down, the dentist looked in Simon's mouth with his mirror. “Ah yes! I see the one to come out, and not a moment too soon either!” The chair has been moved a little so Simon could see the chrome and glass anaesthetic machine with its snake-like rubber tubing and the big black rubber bag. The dentist sat on a stool behind Simon's head and reached over to the machine to turn a knob to allow the oxygen to flow. To Simon's surprise, a big black rubber mask with a soft inflated rim was placed over his nose and mouth and held down by the firm grip of the dentist who curled his fingers under Simon's chin to hold the mask in place. With no warning, the dentist flicked up the lever on the Boyle's vaporiser with the ether in it. Nitrous oxide was added as the sickly cloying smell of the ether caught in Simon's throat making him want to cough. “Don't fight it, take nice deep breaths,” came the dentist's instruction as he massaged the bag to make Simon take bigger and bigger breaths. This time the black tunnel opened up for him to fall into much quicker as he fell into u*********sness with the loudest roaring in his ears. He was aware again of his bladder releasing as he slipped into deep u*********sness.
He heard voices before he became aware of what they were saying. There was one voice which wouldn't go away and was sounding insistent. As he slowly regained his hearing, though not yet sight, he could hear the nurse saying over and over, “Wake up, Simon, it's all over. Open your eyes, pet.” He did so, to find he was lying on his side on the chair, feeling rather more nauseous than usual. “Take some deep breaths of the oxygen, pet, it'll help blow away the anaesthetic fumes.” That was the dental nurse holding the black rubber mask near his nose so that the oxygen blew over it. Gradually he regained consciousness more fully and was taken back to have his very wet nappy knickers and rubbers removed. He felt like a big baby walking back with the nurse in just his pink rubbers with the wet knickers inside. He was washed and dried by the nurse and dressed in his underpants, shorts and sandals.
Simon remembered all of this as he was lifted onto the black rubber surface of the plaster theatre table. The lady anaesthetist was at his head, next to the anaesthetic machine with reserve cylinders and a pipeline feed of oxygen and nitrous oxide fed in from outside. There were no glass vaporisers. Instead there were shiny chrome vaporisers with names like Isoflurane and Sevoflurane engraved on them. The anaesthetist went through the check list one more time. Simon was asked his name and date of birth which she checked off against his wrist bands. “No dentures, crowns or caps?” Simon again confirmed that his teeth were all his own, as well as the fact that he'd not had anything to drink for over two hours and well over four hours since he'd eaten. She explained that she was going to 'breathe him down on Sevo' – in other words, put him to sleep with gas. Simon smiled and said that was fine by him! He was disappointed to note that the modern masks were green plastic with silicone rubber inflated rims. He had the pulse oximeter placed on one finger by the ODA (operating department assistant) who also placed three electrodes on his chest and connected them up to the heart monitor, wrapped some white fluffy material around his other arm and placed the cuff of the sphygmomanometer around it, so that his vital signs could be checked while he was anaesthetised. The mask smelt quite pleasant from the anaesthetic as she lowered the mask over his face and held it there for him. He saw that, instead of two black rubber tubes, there was a blue plastic corrugated tube inside a see-through plastic tube. The once familiar shiny black rubber bag had been replaced by a matt green one which, however, did inflate and deflate as he breathed. “I'm going to add the anaesthetic now, Simon. Continue to breathe normally and you'll soon be asleep.” As she said this to him, the anaesthetist turned on the Sevoflurane vaporiser so that, very quickly, Simon could smell the apple-like odour of the volatile liquid anaesthetic. The anaesthetist then turned on the nitrous oxide as Simon began to drift gently into u*********sness. Suddenly he recognised the additional smell as he started to fall into that deep black tunnel with the roaring in his ears. To his horror he felt the same reaction he'd had as a c***d at the dentists as his bladder let go in reaction to the nitrous oxide.
When he awoke, he was aware that the pain in his broken leg was every bit as bad as it had been, even though it was now encased in a white Plaster of Paris cast. A clear green oxygen mask was over his nose and mouth, held in place by an elastic around the back of his head. He could still taste the anaesthetic on his breath. A recovery nurse leaned over him, “Would you like some morphine for the pain?” “Yes, please,” came Simon's mumbled reply. A few minutes later, two nurses checked his wrist bands against the d**g prescription. He was told to wriggle his toes on his good leg as, with the warning, “Just a sharp scratch”, the needle of the hypodermic was plunged into his thigh muscle, the plunger drawn back to check it wasn't in a vein, then the morphine was injected, the syringe removed and his thigh massaged to help the d**g to be distributed and absorbed. He was also aware of something around his hips. He raised his head and looked down to see he was encased in blue plastic from waist to crotch in a garment which fastened with tapes across his abdomen. The other nurse had gone back to her patient and Simon's nurse leaned close to his ear. “You wet yourself when you had the anaesthetic. It happens sometimes, but you've been put in an incontinence garment, a sort of adult nappy, just in case you wet yourself again as we don't want your plaster getting wet. When you're wet, the nurses on the ward will change them for you and keep you washed and clean. Through the morphine haze, Simon mumbled, “But I don't wet myself.” “Never mind, pet,” came the reply,” “You've been put in them now and you'll be expected to use them. We just can't risk damage to your plaster, so you'll be cared for as if you do wet yourself. Just lie back and let the nurses care for you. Would you like some sips of water now?” Simon drank eagerly, aware that soon he would be testing that garment around his hips and being cared for by those lovely nurses. Things perhaps weren't so bad after all!