To wit: you will never be too old or infirm to think about sex. Unconvinced? Well then, proceed below the fold, and let's see if I can convince you!
First off, I’m not going to say anything disrespectful about my former patients. The nursing home was their home, and they were like family to me. But every family has a relative who gets a little “frisky” from time to time, or speaks a little too freely. We would never condone the harassment of staff by the residents, or vice versa, but when you have known someone for years, and you both understand what the proper boundries are, you can sometimes relax & get real.
“Doc” was not a medical doctor, but he was a man with a PhD. who was well respected in his former field. He was able to afford a private room, and after supper, he would putter around getting ready for the night. Eventually we noticed a small group of ladies regularly clustered in the hall across from his door. Apparently, Doc decided to amuse himself by parading around stark naked, back and forth, as he attended to his routine. When asked, he said, “Someone has to liven this place up a little bit!” His “audience” tended to contain the same 3 ladies on a regular basis. Clara would sit in her wheelchair with a huge grin on her face till her aide came to wheel her off for to her room. Marie was a bit confused, and usually just settled there because that’s where other people were. I don’t think she noticed Doc at all. Sarah was still mobile with a walker. She would hurry to her “spot” in the hallway so as to get the best view. And when I came by with her evening meds, she always said the same thing.
“That pig in there, walks around with no clothes on, with his door wide open.” She would pause for dramatic effect, then add, “And he does it every night!”
Clifford was a favorite resident of mine, although some couldn’t stand him. He was a jaunty, diminutive bachelor, but Raynaud’s and peripheral neuropathy left him almost unable to bear being physically touch. Even worse, he wasn’t very mobile and was high risk for decubitus ulcers. We were able to secure him a “special” bed, like bubbling sand, by enrolling him in a study. We also tried to distract him from the pain of being handled by joking & flirting with him. So as soon as he got that fancy bed, and found out I was working the night shift, well, he couldn’t wait to invite me to come back during the night to help him break it in! Clifford also had to have an indwelling catheter, because keeping dry when you are at risk for skin breakdown is of paramount importance, and Clifford understood. But once a flirt, always a flirt, and Clifford seldom minced words! [Actually, my nursing textbooks included tips on having sex with a male with an indwelling catheter. Apparently, because I do not know this for a fact, one would merely fold back the tubing and slip a rubber over the penis and catheter. Something to keep in mind.] So the shift wore on, call bells were answered, incontinence rounds were done, and there are housekeeping chores delegated to the night shift, but not a peep out of Clifford! By daybreak, he had roused, and called me in sheepishly. “I was thinking, we really didn’t have much privacy here, I mean, someone could walk in any minute. And what would we do with this thing?’’ Meaning, of course, the catheter. I assured Clifford our day would come, and left him with his ego intact.