Always A Willing Volunteer part 1
A medfet fantasy - not caring about the procedural authenticity
Links to parts 2 and 3 on main blog
Mid-afternoon was my appointment time at the clinic, and I arrived promptly. As requested in the invitation letter, I’d fasted for 24hrs and was feeling somewhat light-headed, adding to the feeling of anticipation at receiving the invitation 2 days before. The questionnaire for the clinic, filled out a couple of weeks before, had been long and some questions were difficult to answer truthfully, but I’d been honest and clear about my reasons for volunteering, revealing thoughts no one else knew. My secret medfet fantasies had been laid bare.
Reception is a clean clear area, and the receptionist took my name and me asked to wait.
After some time, a nurse entered through a large swing door. After confirming my identity, she writes out an identity bracelet, which she snaps onto my wrist. “I’ll take you to your room and we’ll start the intake process, follow me”
She led me through the door and down a couple of corridors, past a number of rooms in which I can glimpse other patients lying in bed, most asleep or unconscious. She is moving at pace, and I couldn’t dawdle to look in properly. “People asleep in clinic, nothing unusual in that” I thought She stopped and opened a room door. “This is your room for tonight. You can put your bag in that cabinet beside the bed. Please undress fully and change into the gown and settle yourself on the bed. I’ll be back shortly”. The bed is comfortable, a large adjustable hospital bed. After she leaves and closes the door, I quickly undress and put on the gown, a standard open back one, which I’m unable to reach and do up. Laying down I tuck the gown under me as best I can and pull the cover up.
The nurse returns with another orderly. They are holding a small metal tray on which lay some meds. “Now whilst you haven’t eaten for some time, we need to ensure you’re empty, please swallow this and in a little while you’ll need to use the toilet, it’s through that door”, she indicates to the left. “My colleague will stay with you”
She hands me a beaker, and I swallow the liquid; there wasn’t any real taste, but it was a little thicker than water. I lay back on the bed and tried to relax, chatting idly with the orderly about weather and the news. Sure enough, I soon have an overwhelming urge to use the toilet. I almost ran through, sphincter twitching, followed by the orderly, who stood at the door, and emptied my bowels in a most rapid fashion. Phew! The orderly helps me clean up, noting the toilet contents before flushing. The orderly did up the gown ties and gave me some disposable underwear. Soft yet crinkly, and odd combination.
After the toilet episode, I felt very empty and tired, and sat heavily on the bed. The orderly says “Time to rest up for tomorrow. I’ll give you a little something to help you rest well”, reaching for a syringe form the tray, and swiftly injecting me before I could protest. I was helped to lie back down and the covers pulled up. Soon I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I was woken by a nurse and orderly with a wheelchair entering the room. “I trust you rested well. We have one or two prep steps, and then we can take you through, the doctor is ready for you”. She helped me pull on tight compression stockings and asked me to remove the underwear. A surgical cap is placed on your head.
“Would you like to walk, or ride? Its not far”. Choosing to walk I followed her, the orderly behind with the chair. She opens the door to a small room with double doors at the other end. In the middle of the room is a gurney, and a trolley sits to the side. Waiting at the head of the bed are two masked people, wearing surgical scrubs, one in blue and the other in green, both have blue gloves on.
“Ah, excellent, let’s get started, could you sit up in the middle of the bed.” The nurse helped me up and then left me with the 2 new people. The one in blue came and stood in front of me.
“I’m Doctor Hal, I’ll be your anaesthetist, this is Anita who will be assisting me”. Your heart skips a beat – anaesthesia!! That had been part of the questions you’d answered so truthfully.
“Thank you for being part of this process, the answers you gave on the questionnaire made you an ideal candidate for this trial, and you will help advance medical treatment for others”. Behind me, Anita loosened the gown ties.
“We’re going to take you through anaesthesia in a way that takes some time, to allow us to measure your responses and record how much you can tolerate and when. I’ll be fully in control, and your total care is assured. Just relax, follow my instructions and let us do the process”
Reaching for a mouthpiece from the trolley, which has a cable hanging from it to a meter, he says “We’ll take some calibration measurements of your breathing, Open your mouth, I’ll put this in” The mouthpiece is like a scuba divers, as I close my mouth two pieces that keep my teeth slightly apart, and my lips close around the central tube, a shield against your teeth.
“Take some nice deep breaths, as deep as you can go, nice and slowly”. You do as asked, expanding your chest and diaphragm as far you comfortably can, 3 times. Doctor Hal watches the meter. “Be sure to fully exhale, couple more times please” and then there a beep from the machine. “Thank you, we have your numbers ready to calibrate the anaesthesia machine.” Removing the mouthpiece, he asks, “keep your mouth open wide” and suddenly sprayed something into my mouth and throat. It tastes metallic, and soon made my throat felt different, almost numb “This will help you tolerate a later step”
“Note no cough response” he says to the nurse, quietly
Whilst this was going on, Anita had put a blood pressure cuff on my left arm and taken a reading. She left the cuff on. “we’ll put some sensors on your chest and belly” she says, reaching into my gown from the side and top, her gloved fingers tracing and finding points across your chest and abdomen, placing stick pads.
“Now could you lie back please, and we’ll go through to the OR”. The nurse helped me swing my legs up and lie back, its hard and somewhat unyielding. The nurse pressed a button and 2 people came in, taking the brakes off the gurney and pushing it through the double doors, into a brightly lit room. I tried to look around but can’t see much, except the table and the anaesthsia machine. They stopped next to the table. “Scoot across please” and I slid across onto the table. A round pillow was put under my head, lifting my head and extending your neck a little uncomfortably. A cover was placed over my body, but my legs were left bare.
Anita is joined by another nurse. They reach under the gown with a bundle of wires and connect the pads. The beeping of my heart beat suddenly filled the room. My arms were stretched out to the side on boards, gently strapped into place by Velcro. The BP cuff was attached to some tubes and inflated automatically, tight and crinkly. A pulse ox was clipped to left index finger.
“Your BP and heart rate are a little high, so we’ll wait a moment so you can adjust to the room, just relax and breath slowly and deeply” Through the journey down the corridor and into the OR ante room, I’d been feeling pleasure and excitement building, but now I’m here I am suddenly not so sure and the machine betrayed my heightened state. “I wanted to be here” I tell myself and try to relax and calm down.
A few moments later, the doctor loomed over me. “We’ll begin now” in his hand above my face, he held a mask, clear plastic with a blue rim. “I’m going to put this on to your face, just breath normally” he lowered the mask ever so slowly, settled it on my face, and then did up some straps of a harness I didn’t know was under my head. The tightening straps squeezed it onto my face, and I felt joyful at the sensation. Reaching for the anaesthesia machine, he adjusted something and cool gas wafts into the mask, and I hesitantly breath it in, trying mouth first then nose. The smell is faintly plastic, faintly rubber, and I really liked it. I settled on breathing through my nose. “Deeply and slowly”, Doctor Hal said “its oxygen only at the moment, we’ll let that saturate you for a couple of minutes. The team will continue to prepare you for the procedure”
I lay, staring up at the ceiling tiles, concentrating on my breathing and the smell. The beeping from the monitors had settled and I felt quite euphoric. Each breath made me want to settle, relax, further into the table, the oxygen making me feel lightheaded and dreamy.
Doctor Hal attaches 2 sticky sensor patches, one to your forehead and one to your temple. “This is to monitor the depth of your anaesthesia”
Gloved hands have been softly touching me as the rest of the team prepared, tucking the cover in, and lifting my legs into some stirrups, pulling the gown up as they did before draping some cloth over my now exposed groin. My heart rate jumped as I felt exposed and the sudden monitor noise made me feel scared that they’ll realise how you are feeling.
“Its okay to feel a little scared, this is all part of the process to prepare you for your stay. we’ll help you relax” Doctor Hal says, looking down at me. He reaches again for the machine, and a couple of seconds later the gas changes, more chemically but again not unpleasant. “This is some nitrous oxide, you won’t find it unpleasant. It will help you relax and feel more at ease as we continue preparing you”
He moved around to my left side, and as the BP cuff inflates again, he taps my arm to find a vein. Once found, he swiftly inserts a canula. The nitrous is already having effect and I didn’t really notice a pain, just the pressure of the needle going in. Some tape strips are stuck around it, and the Velcro strap on that arm done up tight. “Some additional straps are required for your safety” he says, as the nurses pass straps over my abdomen and chest, doing them up firmly. “My safety?” I thought, your heart rate again climbing.
The doctor attaches a multi-port device to the canula and starts a drip. You soon can feel the cool fluid entering your vein. “No turning back” I think to myself.
Coming back to the head of the table, Doctor Hal looked down at me, put both hands on my cheeks. “Now we start the real fun part of the process! I’m going to take over breathing for you over the next few minutes. This will be gradual and I’ll be in complete control. Relax, let me do my job, and you will be just fine. We know this is something you will enjoy, your questionnaire betrayed your medfet tendencies, and we love people like that as you’re so easy to control” I swallowed hard, embarrassed at this being said out loud to everyone in the theatre, but I knew the Doctor was right – medfet was the only reason I was there.
Anita came round to my left side, standing by the canula port. “Anita will give you some meds, and I will be increasing the gases I give you. Concentrate on slow deep breathing”
The first injection is pushed, calming my mind quickly, defocusing me form what was happening around me. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, feeling unsure how to feel about the sense of detachment. Doctor Hal took a gentle grip of the mask stem, and released the straps, before gripping the mask more firmly, wrapping his fingers round mask and under the chin line, pulling my head back so I feel I’m looking at his chest.
“The next injection will start the process to transition you to breathing on the machine, a key part of the tolerance test. Please don’t worry I have complete control and will manage you fully. As the injection takes effect, I will use this bag to ventilate you before intubation.”
I tried to digest that, to think about how this could feel, as the nurse pushed the med. A warm feeling disperses through my body, as the drug works it way through, and my body felt very heavy. After a few seconds I realised my breathing was getting shallow, that my diaphragm was ineffective. I try not to panic, the first med doing its job of keeping me calm, as Doctor Hal squeezes his bag a couple of times, pushing gases into your lungs, gently but strongly “breathing” for me, to his rhythm. He promised me his control - and now he has it.
He released the grip on the mask and took something from a tray I did not even know was on my chest. “Now, I’m going to insert this LMA, try to swallow if you can” The nurse’s fingers pull my mouth open, pulling on my chin, and the Doctor’s fingers are in my mouth, moving my tongue to the side, then passing the LMA into you mouth and upper throat, squeaking as it goes in. Attaching a syringe of air, he inflates the cuff, a very odd feeling inside my body.
Swiftly the hoses are taken from the mask, attached to the LMA and the anaesthesia machine switched on to ventilate. A breath is pushed in, and another. I truly had no feeling of helping this at all, now totally dependent on the machine.
Doctor Hal looked at the machine, taking in the monitoring, then looked down at me, saying “Well done, you tolerated that with almost no gag response. We can see your tidal volume and CO2 are good, the tube is well placed, and the machine is now ventilating you”. He secured the tube with some tape.
“We will continue our preparations for the next stage. The muscle relaxing will ease in a while, but you will be unconscious by then”
I should feel scared, but I don’t. The Doctor’s easy manner, and trust in my reaction to the process, along with my long wish to experience this, make it all feel normal and acceptable. I mentally “settle in” to being fully managed. At the end of the table, catheters are being inserted into my urethra and anus, to manage your waste products. Like the canula, I was numb to any pain from this but felt the push as each lubricated tube is inserted and secured.
“Looks like someone enjoyed that”, is the embarrassing call from the nurse doing the catheters. My body betrayed me at the last! I blush, instinctively trying to move my hands to cover my face, but of course they are not doing anything – the meds and the straps double deny me.
The rhythm of the ventilator, causing my chest to rise and fall, expand and contract, is metronomic and relaxing. I ponder this state, how long it can go on for. As my mind wanders, my legs are moved from the stirrups and place gently together back on the table, slightly apart to protect the catheters.
“Ok, we’re ready to put you under now, for the duration of your stay” and he again reaches for the anaesthesia machine, introducing a strong dose of sevoflurane to the gases.
Duration of my stay? I thought this was a single process! This thought races though my head as I start to feel a blackness come over me and I sink even further into the table. Some lube is squirted into my eyes and they are taped shut.
“Move them to stage 2 please” is the last thing I heard, before nothingness fully took over
