This chapter includes a historically accurate gynecological exam and hysteria treatment. This can read as non-con and has the ability to make the reader uncomfortable or trigger. Consider this your content warning.
Flurries were in the air as Christine followed her friend Daisy Jones out of the carriage. Both women stood in front of an impressive brownstone.
"Are you sure this is a Doctor's office?" Christine pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.
"Of course," Daisy walked up the stairs and opened the door for her friend. "He is the best in the city."
Inside the brownstone was a lavish sitting room full of plush velvet chairs, chaise lounges, electric lamps; heaters and a fire place. Behind a large mahogany desk, a very fashionable young woman sat looking down at a folder as she typed. A few equally fashionable women in the room looked up as the door closed.
The young woman typing looked up and smiled, "How may I help you?"
Daisy linked her arm with Christine and led her to the desk, "Yes my dear friend is here for her first appointment with Dr. Morris."
"Splendid! I do not mean to brag but my uncle is the best you will find. And your name."
"Mrs. Christine Y."
The young woman looked into the large open book, found Christine's name and lifted a fountain pen to it and placed a check mark, "You may have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly."
The two women sat as far away from the others in the room.
"Are you sure about this, Daisy?" Christine removed her gloves and put them in her purse. "My midwife told me to come back and see her when…"
A door opened and a doctor called a name. One of the other women in waiting room got up and followed him.
"That is not him," Daisy informed in a whisper. "That is Dr. Milton. He handles the mild cases."
"The mild cases of what?"
"Hysteria. I thank God I have avoided such illness." Daisy turned to her friend and smiled, "And Christine you'll want to see a doctor over a midwife. The advancements medicine has made can provide women of means like us are astounding. Dr. Morris is the reason I have not had a child since Sara. It is a perfect fit, never shifts. You wouldn't have had your miscarriage if I had known you were using such a terrible womb veil."
"Daisy, please," Christine grabbed her friend's hand, blushing.
Daisy's laugh echoed through the waiting room, "Don't act coy, Christine. You came to me remember? With as affectionate as you two are withdrawal alone is a child waiting to happen."
Before she could respond, Christine's name was called by an older balding man.
"That's Dr. Morris," Daisy smiled.
Christine followed the older balding man into an exam room where he introduced himself as Dr. Morris. He instructed her to place her coat, hat and purse on the chair before he introduced her to a younger doctor, a Dr. Reid.
Once up on the table, her skirts lifted and feet in the stirrups. Dr Morris asked her questions. Wasn't this table enough? My old doctor had never used one.
"And how many children have you had?"
"Three."
"Miscarriages?"
"Two total. My most recent one was a few weeks ago. It is why I am in. My dear friend informed me you fitted her with a diaphragm. The womb veil I have been using has been shifting thus the pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage."
"Are you sure it was a proper miscarriage?"
"Excuse me? Are you accusing me of…?"
Dr. Reid spoke for the first time, "Of course he's not. We just need to make sure we know the truth."
"Relax Mrs. Y, you'll feel pressure and a pinch as I put the speculum in."
"The what?" Christine lifted her head up.
"Speculum," Dr. Reid spoke holding up a metal device. "You've had gynecological exams before, right?"
"Not with that thing."
"That explains so much," Dr. Morris pushed her thighs open wider, the stirrups creaking. "The speculum, please."
Dr. Reid handed it to the older man, before looking up at Christine's face, "Just take deep breaths and relax, Mrs. Y."
The Soprano closed her eyes and followed the directions, the cold metal slathered with Vaseline against her insides made her shiver.
Dr. Reid handed Dr. Morris something different then moved up to be near Christine's torso. He wiped her forehead with a cloth and then took her hand. He smiled at her exposing teeth under his handlebar mustache, "Now this will be uncomfortable but this is the most accurate way to get a measurement of your cervix. You may squeeze my hand if it will help."
Christine's chest rose and fell in labored breath. Which was more threatening the man trying to calm me or the man getting ready to prob me? Daisy said he is the best doctor in town. That he is the reason she has not had any more children.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she cried out in pain. She squeezed Dr. Reid's hand. Tears rushed down the sides of her face.
"Unclench! I will not be able to measure accurately unless you do!" Dr. Morris exclaimed.
Christine cried and squeezed Dr. Reid's hand tighter.
"Unclench!" Dr. Morris tapped her inner right thigh.
"Breath, Mrs. Y and push as if you were delivering," Dr. Reid lifted the cloth and wiped her cheeks.
Christine pushed her pelvic muscles down and felt the tool go further up inside her.
"That's a good girl," Dr. Morris said casually not looking up. "That will be a 2.5," He slid the instrument out. "You're going to bleed later, more than you should since you didn't cooperate. Nothing to be concerned about though. I'm going to remove the speculum now, from what I can see everything is relatively fine."
Christine let out a soft sigh as she felt the device leave her body and return to normal, "May I set up now?"
"Not yet, Mrs. Y. I do believe you have a slight case of hysteria and we should treat you while you are already here. I am going to let Dr. Reid take over. I believe you will prefer his technique over mine. I will go ahead and get you that 2.5 diaphragm. You will feel a significant difference in the fit. Between that and this hysteria treatment, Mr. Y shall be one happy husband tonight." The elder doctor walked away talking over his shoulder, "Reid use plenty of Vaseline. You never use enough."
Christine let go of the Doctor's hand and propped herself up on her elbows, "What is going on?"
Dr. Reid smiled again at her. "We're treating your hysteria. You will feel extremely relieved after this."
"What do mean hysteria? I am not hysterical; I have never heard such a ridiculous thing."
Dr. Reid walked down to the end of the exam table, dipped the tips of fingers in the open Vaseline jar and smeared it around on them with his thumb, "Mrs. Y, Dr. Morris is one of the leading doctors on hysteria here in the city. If he thinks you're hysteric you will want this help." He sat down on the wheeled stool, "Now just lay back down and keep breathing. "
The Soprano felt the young doctor's greased fingers touch her clitoris and she jerked, "What are you doing?"
"He's supposed to be giving you a massage don't tell me he's already failing," Dr. Morris walked back over a frown on his face as he sat a couple little boxes down on the table.
"I barely touched her! And she's already fighting."
"Did I underestimate it by saying slight case? She might be so hysterical she's no longer showing the typical symptoms but the slightest touch shows just how anxious she really is," Dr. Morris stood behind Dr. Reid and crossed his arm, "Start again. I want to see."
Dr. Reid rubbed her clitoris in a circular motion and this time Christine gasped.
"I knew she'd prefer your technique. We'll have her cured in no time. Do continue, Doctor."
Dr. Reid rubbed two more circles before Christine jerked away, pulling her legs out of the stirrups and into her chest as she sat up, "Nobody but my husband touches me like that there!"
"Is your husband a doctor, Mrs. Y?" Dr. Morris chided. "Untrained hands should not be trying to treat hysteria."
"He is not treating anything," The Diva's cheeks pinkened. "Cannot a husband and wife partake in the joys of the flesh in their marital bed?"
"I did underestimate; you are a wanton woman, no husband desires that in their marital bed."
Wide blue eyes darted between the men. How Erik and I always tease that I am a wanton woman but never did we imagine it meant I have an actual medical condition.
"Lay back down, Mrs Y," Dr. Reid spoke softly again. "We will get this treated, send you home with your diaphragms and we can guarantee Mr. Y will return to the dashing young man you remember courting you."
"Dashing young man?"
"Yes," Dr. Morris stepped forward. "You are not alone, Mrs. Y. I have treated many wanton women who have found their husbands much more the man they used to be now that they themselves were much more sane."
"Dashing young man?" Christine laughed as she lowered herself from the examination table to the floor. Her skirts rustled as she straightened and smoothed them out. "You clearly have not met my husband. I should never want him to be the man he was years ago! And he was never dashing."
As she took a couple steps towards the door a twinge from her womanhood made her stumble slightly. She stopped, both doctors now stood in front of the door. Her purse, hat and coat were on the chair beside it.
"Do I pay you here or do I need to collect my things and pay your secretary for my appointment and diaphragms?" She forced a sweet smile at the men.
"Mrs. Y, as your doctor, I strongly recommend against leaving without a hysteria treatment today." There was a frown on Dr. Morris' face.
Christine continued to smile, "Shall we compromise? I will inform my husband and he shall decide if I am in need of treatment. He is the one who has to deal with my emotions after all. I believe the diaphragms will be a wonderful start; not having to worry about adding to our family will make me a calmer wife."
The younger doctor nodded as he looked at his mentor, "I believe that is an acceptable arrangement, but you have the final word."
Dr. Morris met Christine's gaze, "Your husband is the one who owns Phantasma out on Coney Island, correct? That Mr. Y?"
"Yes."
"That also explains so much," Dr. Morris cupped his hands in front of his chest. "My apologizes, Mrs. Y. I do believe you are correct in your assertion." He took a few steps to the table, collected the boxes and handed them to her, "You may pay my secretary. Does Madame Giry still work for him? I have not heard from her or any of her girls in some time."
The Soprano let out an audible gasp. The sudden mention Phantasma and his line of work made sense. She arched her back, making herself stand taller, "Madame Giry was dismissed several years ago. My husband was not aware of any aspects of what she required of them then. Whatever you assisted in we are thankful for they are alive and well. And yet you questioned my miscarriage."
The younger doctor rocked on his heels.
Dr. Morris coughed, "Mrs. Y, I will walk you out and inform my niece we are even. No payment is needed."