An attractive, smiling African American nurse I had seen there before, took me back to the exam room where the Urologist was going to perform my endescopy. She said "Take off your pants", tossed a paper towel on the examining bench, and said "Cover with this" as she walked out. She surprised me by quickly returning before I had my pants all the way off, but I took some comfort from the fact my flannel shirt sort of hid me as I tossed my garments on a chair. I reclined on the bench back rest and my shirt pulled up. I grabbed for the towel that now seemed to have shrunk to the size of a postage stamp. Yikes!
Moving about with her back toward me, she asked if I was allergic to iodine. As I started to answer, she turned and, pushing the towel aside, proceeded to pick up my prized family jewel as if it were a discarded pickle. I coughed to cover my embarrassment but then strove to prove I was oblivious to her stretching and twisting it as she dabbed with a wet sponge. I said "Why I remember, when a child, that iodine stung and was replaced with mercurochrome." She joined my game, saying she didn't know mercurochrome. but was sure it was okay.
As I inanely rambled on, she dropped my gem to retrieve something from the shelf behind her, then picked it up again like a dentist's tool and swabbed the head with bright red iodine. I lay back, determined to somehow accept this new set of modesty rules. However, I couldn't acquiesce completely and, as she finished her preparations, I asked her if any patients had ever objected to her ministrations. She paused a beat, then answered, "Why, no." But as she left the room, she said over her shoulder, "And I sure hope there won't be a first time!
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