Date: Sun, 4 Dec 2016 13:06:03 +0000 (UTC)
From: Juan Martinez <nobus50@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Aston House Chapter 3

ASTON HOUSE

This is my second story.

Further chapters will be coming soon, I hope.  Personal circumstances have
prevented me from being productive on the literary front this year; many
apologies.

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ASTON HOUSE
Part 3
A HOSPITAL VISIT FOR BOBBY
Mb[10]


Bobby was now ten years old, nearly eleven but to look at him you could be
mistaken for thinking that he was only eight years old.  He was about three
foot ten inches tall, slim almost skinny and had no musculature or baby fat
on his small frame.  As expected for a ten year old he was completely
hairless apart from a scraggy, mousey brown head of hair and some wispy
down on his forearms.  All of his limbs were thin and although he did not
look unhealthy or mal-nourished he was not a picture of pre-pubescent
health.  He certainly did not look his age.  Facially he could not be
described as handsome or attractive.  Not un-attractive, there was nothing
fundamentally wrong; but there was nothing particularly cute about him
either.  He had hazel green eyes, a slightly retroussé nose and
cheekbones that could not be described as well formed.  His chin was
rounded and his ears stuck out a little but they were mostly hidden beneath
his rather unruly mop of hair.  His teeth were none too good either.  At
his previous school the regular dental checks had found rotten teeth and he
had already had some of his adult teeth removed as they were too decayed to
fix.  All-in-all he was just an average, no, below average looking ten year
old boy.

Bobby came from a broken home; he never knew his father and his mother was
a hopeless case.  She was a drug addict and had spent most of what little
money she had on drugs not food for herself and her child.  He had been in
and out of care homes and placed back with his mother on various previous
occasions.  He had grown up often wondering when the next meal would be
made available to him.  Even in one of his many stays in various care homes
he seemed always to be hungry and at no point in his short life had he
really known any love.  The men in his mother's life would never make a
role model for him and often he would be in the room when his mother was
punched, beaten and slapped by one of her many partners.  Sex was something
he had learnt from his close proximity to his drug addicted mother and her
numerous similarly drugged up boyfriends.  One boyfriend had even forced
him to join in some drug induced session with his mother.

Eventually the authorities, despite their best efforts, had run out of
patience and Bobby was taken permanently into care.  So at age ten he found
himself at Aston House.  The introductory medical whilst not quite what he
was expecting did not come completely out of the blue.  His meeting with
The Principal had been managed thanks to the knowledge he had picked up
from his mother and her boyfriends.  He had even been down to room 101 on
one occasion with Mr Crighton and another man whom he did not recognise and
forced into taking both men orally.  So perhaps he should have been
grateful for the previous experiences with his mother's boyfriend.

Like most boys at Aston House, Bobby tried to keep a low profile. There
were many much prettier boys that kept the house masters happy in the
evenings.  Bobby was left pretty much on his own by the staff and the other
boys.  One evening, however, he was not so lucky. One of the older boys had
decided that it was Bobby's turn to do him a favour.  Bobby had earnt some
merit points and been given some chocolate bars for good behaviour.  The
elder boy decided that they should really be his.

Bobby had other ideas and fought tooth and nail, literally, to keep his
well-earned possessions.  The fighting escalated as was often the case
around the dormitory but the older boy was always going to win the fight.
Bobby had sustained a bloody nose and a bruised eye socket that would
blacken up in the morning and was already closing.  He fought back the
tears and fought on for pride.  Unfortunately the older boy was not going
to give up and dragged Bobby out of the dormitory and flung him down the
outside fire escape.  Bobby tried desperately to hang on to the metal steps
but a heavy foot landed on his hand and he descended downwards, flailing
his arms and legs until he reached the concrete path below.

He had lost consciousness and knew nothing much about the next few minutes.
The alarm had been sounded and staff quickly came to his aid.  The older
boy was dragged off kicking and screaming to await his fate.  Bobby was
picked up and taken to the sick bay.  He was a mess.  Dr Gallagher was
contacted and suggested that the boy should go to hospital.  The senior
staff member was reluctant to follow up on this suggestion.  All trips to
hospital and outside medical practitioners were fraught with danger; lest
some of the school's activities be exposed.  Injuries such as Bobby's may
take a lot of explaining.  Far better then, that Dr Gallagher attend and
administer some of his medical expertise on young Bobby.

So it was that half an hour later Dr Gallagher was attending to the quite
seriously injured Bobby.

`He really needs to go to hospital.' He said, `He may well have broken
bones and concussion.'

`But that would mean a staff member would have to be with him all the
time.' Came the reply, `We simply don't have enough staff on duty to manage
that this evening. Besides he is one of our "one o one" boys.  Surely you
can patch him up at least until the morning.'

`Well he seems to have stabilised somewhat but I am worried about his
concussion and if he has broken any bones, I and everybody here will get it
in the neck if we delay his movement to hospital.'

The Principal was contacted by phone for the final say and the phone was
passed to Dr Gallagher to speak with him.

`Yes, I understand, but the boy may be seriously injured.  We simply don't
know what internal injuries he may have.'

`A private hospital?  Well, yes but they're not equipped to deal with
emergencies.'

`Yes I can try them.  But it really is most unlikely.'

`A favour, well, I suppose they do. Have you got Dr Wishart's number?'

`Well, if you sort it with them, I'll patch the boy up here and they can
get him in their own private ambulance.'

`Yes, Wishart always said he would love for one of our boys to stay with
him.'

`Ok, call me back and let me know what he says, otherwise he will have to
go to the casualty department at St David's.  But he will need an
ambulance. He can't go in a car.'

`Ok, I'll speak to you in a few minutes. Half an hour tops.'

The call came back and the upshot was that Bobby would be going by private
ambulance to the private hospital for assessment and treatment and then to
Dr Wishart's clinic for recovery.

Bobby was now conscious but Dr Gallagher had given him some pain killing
injections and Bobby was high on gas and air [nitrous oxide] and very
groggy.  His whole body seemed to be in pain but numb at the same time.  He
could feel the pain but felt like he was floating on a cloud.  He would
shut his eyes and drift off to sleep before being awoken by more medical
staff.  His damaged limbs were immobilised and he was carefully placed on a
stretcher and carried to the waiting ambulance.

The trip to the private hospital took about half an hour and the staff
constantly monitored his vital signs and the condition of his injuries.  On
his arrival he was taken into an operating theatre as there was no
reception process to go through and no teams of nurses and doctors that one
would expect at a casualty department.  Whilst they did not have any trauma
specialists, they did have the facilities to carry out x-rays and scans and
could call on a range of expert clinicians.  The Principal was pulling out
all the stops and calling in any favours he could.

Bobby was x-rayed and scanned and some of the best doctors were at his
bedside to attend to him.  A top neuro surgeon assessed his head injuries
and the scan showed no serious injuries.  Nothing untoward showed on the
internal scans and x-rays, other than bruised kidneys.  His bones however,
were another story. He had broken both his arms and some of his fingers and
one leg was broken and the other ankle was badly sprained.  He had bruises
all over his torso and one eye was now badly swollen and the other closed
completely with the swelling.  His nose was broken and he had cuts all over
his face.  Fortunately for him, he was being attended to by one of the
country's leading orthopaedic surgeons.  His prognosis for a full recovery
was good but it would take months for the wounds to heal.  Dr Wishart was a
good doctor and made all the necessary arrangements for him to be
transferred to his private clinic about fifteen miles from Aston House
where Bobby could safely convalesce.



* x x x x - - - - x x x x *



So it was that Bobby found himself an in-patient at The Wishart Clinic.
The only in-patient and probably the first.  Before he left the hospital he
had been patched up professionally.  His right leg had been set in plaster
but his badly sprained ankle could not be fully immobilised in plaster
until the swelling had gone down.  For the moment it was strapped and would
be immobilised in traction once he got to the clinic.  Both arms were in
plaster. His right arm was in a cast from his wrist to his shoulder and was
kept bent at about ninety degrees.  The other was plastered from his
fingers to his elbow and the broken fingers of this, his left arm, were
also splinted where they had been broken.  His head was swathed in bandages
and he had surgical pads applied to the deep lacerations across his chin
and neck.  His right eye had almost completely closed but was left
uncovered.  He could see slightly, but with a lot of blurring.  His left
eye was also badly bruised and was covered in a light compress that was
taped to his cheeks and up onto his forehead with sticky bandages.  It was
this eye that the staff at the hospital were most worried about and there
was much concern that the scarring may be permanent.

Bobby was wheeled through on a gurney to the rear of the clinic, into a
small surgical room where he was transferred to a waiting bed.  Dr Wishart
had prepared the room for Bobby whilst he was being treated at the
hospital.  It was equipped with almost everything that the boy would need
for a lengthy period of convalescence.  The bed was a specialist traction
framed bed so that his left leg could be put in traction and his damaged
ankle could be immobilised whilst it healed.

Bobby himself was heavily sedated.  The journey to the clinic and transfer
to his recovery room meant that he would be in a lot of pain otherwise.
The morphine was administered intravenously and Bobby would be pain free.
Now he was safely at the clinic the dose could be reduced.  He would still
be free of pain as there would be no more journeys to undergo but before he
could be left there were still some procedures that Dr Wishart would need
to administer.  The staff at the hospital had removed Bobby's catheter and
he would need to be re-catheterised now that young Bobby was at the clinic.
Bobby's damaged kidneys would need to be closely monitored and the high
dose of morphine required to relieve the pain would render him unable to
control his bladder.  Bobby was still a mess.  He would need close
supervision for the next few days.  Currently he was barely conscious as
the morphine acted upon his battered young body. Dr Wishart also had to
affix the traction equipment to Bobby's damaged left leg.

It was past dawn and it was essential to get Bobby fully stabilised before
the remaining staff could retire and leave Bobby in peace.  Dr Wishart
would supervise his treatment at the clinic and the staff at Aston House
were adamant that only essential staff should be in a position to know of
Bobby's temporary incarceration at the clinic.  Fortunately it was now
Saturday morning and the clinic would not be open again until the Monday.
This would give Dr Wishart and his small team of trusted nurses the whole
weekend to ensure that Bobby was fully stabilised and on his way to
recovery before the rest of the clinic opened.

Dr Wishart's team consisted of a few very trustworthy male nurses who would
work in shifts to ensure Bobby had round the clock supervision for the
crucial first three days.  Most of his injuries had been treated and, if
there was no concussion, the damaged kidneys, bone and soft tissue injuries
should all recover in the fullness of time.  It was just his eye injury
that was a major concern for the team and nothing could be done until the
swelling had reduced.  The first task was to get his left leg in traction
before they could reduce the morphine levels in his blood.  Two nurses,
Alex Robertson and Hugh Williams, were on hand to help Dr Wishart, both had
expertise in orthopaedics and would be able to safely and quickly put the
damaged leg in traction.  Bobby's damaged ankle was wrapped in loose
fitting bandages and supported in such a way that the bandages could be
removed without the necessity to remove the traction ties.

After a short while a very groggy young Bobby was lying on the bed with his
left ankle supported and raised and held in place with the traction ties.
All that remained was for the catheter to be re-inserted.  Already Bobby
was beginning to come round and become a little more aware of his
surroundings and the extent of his injuries.  Soft words were spoken to him
by the two nurses as they busied themselves at his bedside.

`How are you feeling, young man?'  Enquired nurse, Hugh.

`I don't know. I think I'm hungry.' He replied sounding somewhat confused.

`Don't worry it's just because your tummy is empty.  You're getting all
your food through this tube here so even if you may feel hungry you won't
be.' He said soothingly.

`Do you know what happened to you?' Asked Hugh.

Bobby looked through his one eye and although blurred he could make out the
clinic room.

`I... I got beaten by James and I think I'm in hospital.'

That's right.  But you will be ok now.  In a few weeks I'm sure you'll be
as right as rain!  My colleague Alex, here needs to put a tube in you to
help you go to the toilet so you don't need to walk there, ok?'

Bobby shut his one eye and relaxed back onto the bed.  Alex removed the
light blanket covering his groin and picked up his slim flaccid penis that
was lying over the top of his wrinkled scrotum.  His testes invisible as
they were hugged close to his body.  Alex retracted his small foreskin
revealing a tiny purple glans.  He palpated the small penis a little and
gently squeezed the tip of his penis opening the urethra slightly.  He
applied a little lubricating fluid and massaged it into the tip of the
boy's penis.  Hugh joined him with the catheter tube and as Alex gently
squeezed his glans, he inserted the tip of the catheter into Bobby's
urethra. Very slowly the tube inched its way down his penis until it
entered his bladder.  Hugh fixed up the drain tube and Alex continued to
gently caress Bobby's tiny penis.

`Won't you just look at this?' He said to his partner, `he is managing to
get a partial erection.  It is just so cute!'

Bobby had returned to his former sleepy state and was unaware of the
nurse's gentle caresses of his penis.  With their work done, the nurses
double checked the drips and monitors and Alex was left to monitor Bobby's
progress for the next few hours.

Alex rubbed Bobby's tummy and quietly said, `You get some sleep now, young
man.  I'll be right here if you need anything but I reckon you'll be too
sleepy to need anything for a while.  Sweet dreams, fella.'

Hugh left for his nearby home and Alex settled down at the small desk and
began updating his notes.  Bobby was going to be asleep for a few hours and
by the time he awoke, Dr Wishart would be back to continue the monitoring
of young, battered Bobby.


To Be Continued ...


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