I am a 41 year old male that for some time now longed for his mother to
again give him an enema like she did some 30 odd years before. You see,
Mom had, like so many other people had, changed her feelings about
enemas. That to me is sad, for at one time, Mom swore by the healing
effects that a good enema would bring about. She swore to me many a time
that if I kept all that sludge from building up, that I'd never be sick
a day in my life. But now that had changed. She didn't even own an enema
She told me once, about 20 or so years earlier, right after I married,
that her new doctor had convinced her that enemas were not needed except
in special circumstances. She went on to say that the good doctor had
said that Epsom salts or prunes would do the trick and in extreme
circumstances, she might try Milk-of-Magnesia. Mom bought that line -
hook, line, and sinker. She was so convinced that she threw the old,
faithful enema bag away.
Because of her change in attitude, I began to do a little research back
then and sure enough, I found that the medical community had switched
their beliefs that enemas benefited human beings and instead, I found
that the medial community, as a whole, began to encourage their patients
to use EX- LAX or other laxatives in the event of constipation. (Now
that really makes me wonder even now how much money the AMA receives
annually from companies that make laxatives for such advise. You know
without a doubt that there are really a lot of people out there that use
laxatives daily...if you don't believe me, just take one look at the ads
on TV, radio, magazines, and even the Internet.)
Mom knew that I didn't buy into her new found information that her new
doctor had supplied and she went about telling me many a day, that I
ought to stop using those things and that if I didn't, that I was going
to hurt myself one day.
She even went so far as to tell my wife those things. My wife, and I
love her to death, believes that I am crazy too! but she likes that I
don't have to waste money on laxatives. As for her, she has only had one
enema given to her in her life, a barium enema, and that was in the
hospital when she had colitis. (Cindy, despite her own beliefs, will
tell me when I get too cranky that I must be constipated and for me to
go and take a good enema. I know that she could just as easily give me a
mouth full of Milk-a-Magnesia than say that. I know she knows that
enemas turn me on and on rare occasions will even leave the room and go
to the bathroom, fill the bag herself, and come get me. I bet you know I
am cranky a lot.)
Well, back to my story, it was a Friday afternoon and Cindy had gone to
her mother's for the weekend and I was home alone. Mom called and when
she found out that I was alone, she asked me to come down and stay with
her. She said that "she would love to have her little boy home."
I reluctantly agreed, but told Mom that I felt terribly constipated and
needed to take care of that first. She replied for me not to use that
enema thing, and for me to go get some Epsom salts and take a good dose.
I, being a good son, reluctantly agreed again, and asked her how long
would it take to work? She said probably overnight and in the morning
I'd feel great. Well, I did as I was told and left the house and went on
down to Mom's. After a three hour drive I finally made it, but I didn't
feel too good. Mom greeted me at the door and after a few hugs, she and
I went in to eat dinner. She had fixed a huge meal just for the two of
us. I, feeling full already, was forced to eat a lot and my breathing
became labored as the night went on.
Mom asked me if I took the Epson's salts. I told her I did and even
added a little extra to the water to be sure I had a good evacuation.
Mom then told me that that should do it and for me to get a good night's
rest. I gave her a big old hug and proceeded to go back to my old room
where I slept.
The next morning came and I had not had a movement. At the breakfast
table over coffee, Mom could tell how miserable I had become. She tried
to again give me some Epson salt, but I told her I'd rather take care of
the problem myself and take an enema. Mom said that she wished I
wouldn't do that. I hugged her neck and said, "Mom, I am miserable and I
need some relief before I get too bitchy."
Mom reluctantly said, "OK then, but I don't have an enema bag in the
house, and I haven't had one since I changed doctors 25 or so years ago.
I guess you could go down to the corner drug store and get one that is,
if they even stock them now."
I quickly got dressed and drove down to the corner drug store. To my
surprise, they didn't have one either. They had their brand and Fleet
enemas, but no bags. I checked the feminine hygiene section for a douche
bag, but like before, they had none...only disposable types. I was too
shy to ask the clerk where I might find one, so I left and went to a
different drug store. In fact, I went to three before I found a simple
combination bottle set.
I returned to Mom's place. She was in the kitchen. I went in with the
package and told her I was back. She turned and again said, "I wish I
could persuade you not to take an enema, but if you must, you know the
way to the bathroom."
I hugged her again and went back to the bathroom to take care of my
problem. I sat on the commode and began to assemble the syringe. Mom
came to the door and watched for a second then left, shaking her head.
After I had the shut-off onto the tubing and the nozzle and adapter in
place, I began to fill the bottle with warm water. When it was full, I
attached the hose and began to look for a place to hang it.
Mom had had the bathroom redone and the old nail where she once hung my
bags was no longer there. There was a curtain rod on the window, but the
kit did not come with a hook even though it was supposed to.
I decided to try to take it while sitting on the toilet. I had just
inserted the pipe when Mom came back to the door. There I was sitting on
the commode holding the bag about head high with my left hand. No water
had even left the bag and even when I even squeezed it, nothing really
Mom stated that if I wanted for it to go in, I needed to get down on the
floor. "I told her that I would but that old nail ain't there any longer
and that the bag didn't come with a hook like it was supposed to and I
ain't going to take it back."
She said that she would try to find something to help out. I sat there
for a moment or so, but decided to try it again. I got down on my knees,
leaned over, and held the bottle in my left hand about a foot or so
above my rear. Mom returned and said, "Hun, that won't do either, you
aren't holding the bag high enough. Now give me the bag and I'll hold it
above you and give you this enema like I used to, even though I have
reservations against it."
I told mother "thanks" and handed her the bag and then stated, "You know
that I save a whole lot of money by taking enemas rather than buying the
stuff the doctors advertise. Ever think about why they want you to use
laxatives instead of these? I have, you are padding their pockets! when
you buy EX-LAX or Milk-a-Magnesia!"
Mom said, "You do have a point son. I never thought about all the
advertising as that!"
I was watching her now, she looked at the bag and said, "Son, you have
put an awful lot of water into this bag, you weren't planning on taking
it all, were you?"
I said, "I was and even a little bit more if I can! That is if I can get
you to refill it for me? You have to admit now that I am not as little
as I once was!"
Mom grinned and proceeded to raise the bag about head high. When she had
it just right she leaned against the wall and opened the tube's
shut-off. Water immediately began to enter my rectum and I sorta
grinned. Mom seeing that said, "See, I haven't forgot how!"
Mom continued to give me my enema and I know Mom couldn't help but hear
the gurgling sounds that my stomach made as the water pushed past all
the stuff that was up in me.
When the bag finally emptied, Mom closed the shut-off and proceeded to
unscrew the adapter from the bottle. She spoke up saying, "Son, you sure
you want more?"
I quickly replied, "I'd just love it if you don't mind!"
I turned around and watched as Mom refilled the bag with warm soapy
water. When she had it brim full she re-attached the tubing and again
held it about head high. I told her thanks and she proceeded to open the
shut-off. A minute or so later, Mom commented that the water wasn't
going in very fast now and that she should shut it off. I asked her to
please not turn the enema off just yet, that I wasn't hurting or
anything. She then said "well, ok then" and allowed the bag to go
completely empty. She was right, for it seemed to take about 3 times as
long for that bag to go in.
Finally when she had drained the bottle, Mom commented, "Son, I am not
going to put anymore up into you now. You have at least a gallon of
water and crap in you now and I don't want you to pop. Go expel what you
have in you now and we will see if you really need more."
I sat up and sat down onto the toilet to expel my enema. I had been
sitting for about 10 minutes when Mom returned. She didn't say anything
just proceeded to the sink to refill the bag. I flushed the toilet and
got down onto my knees and chest. Mom, when she had it ready, slipped
the pipe into my waiting rectum and proceeded to give me my second
enema. This time though she didn't stop with only two bags. I took three
and one half and I probably could have taken more. I just didn't want to
seem too greedy!
And oh yes, one more thing...Guess where I left my new enema bag?