Some of my earliest memories of growing up was in a small place in rural Colorado. It was fairly remote and away from any towns. Just a collection of houses owned by a company my father used to work for and maybe one or two other families or workers lived in these houses. There were not many kids where I lived and only one other family who had a couple of children my age.
I remember not liking enemas which were given to me by my mother. It was not pleasant and I fought them and just did not like them. My sister also was given enemas but I don’t think she had as many as I did. That’s probably not right, but it felt like I got most of the enemas.
The other family had one daughter who was a year older than me. This was in the late 50's and this girl’s family apparently gave her enemas, too. I think that she liked them or at least didn’t fight them the way that I used to.
One enema I vividly remember was when this family was over to our house for a visit. For some reason my mom got it in her head that I needed an enema right then and there. In today’s language, I would have been thinking, “WTF! Now?”
I knew something was up when my mom put a couple of towels on top of the kitchen table, there were only 4 rooms in the house and kind of a back porch area. I usually was given my enemas on the towels in my bedroom on the floor or the bed. It didn’t matter, I didn’t like them. A few times I did receive enemas on the kitchen table and it was usually during the day. I wasn’t in school then, so I must have been four or five.
That night, when ‘company’ came over, mom decided I needed an enema. My enemas were given to me with a bulb syringe a lot like the avatar picture but not quite the same. Mom would put a piece of soap, probably Ivory, in a water glass or a mixing bowl, and fill it with warm water. The ‘company’ was in the living room just off of the kitchen and there was no door. I knew they knew what was going on and I was humiliated and mad as hell. I fought it and was screaming at the top of my lungs when I was laid, naked, onto the kitchen table and held down by my mom. I heard her squeeze the air out of the bulb and then the water being sucked up into it. A little dab of Vaseline on the tip and then I felt it being put into me.
Right when it was being put into me, the neighbor girl was sent in to get her parents and my father something to drink. She wasn’t looking but I yelled at her to get out. I was very mad and it was right at the time mom was slipping the enema nozzle into me and I felt the warm soapy water being pushed in. I was so mad and the neighbor girl, without looking, left the kitchen with the drinks and I could hear the adults laughing about something in the other room. Probably to drown out my yelling. I was crying when I got the next two bulbs put into me and at last the ordeal was over. We had outhouses where I lived back then and so I had to go into a chamber pot. Apparently this one enema was all I needed. Why it couldn’t wait, I have no idea.