On Memorial Day I had retreated to my study, took a half read book off the shelf hoping to complete it, and put some classical music on the CD player. Of all the CD's that I could have picked, I chose Gustav Holst, "The Planets". One of the tracks is "Mars the Bringer of War," but for some reason it struck me as "Mom, the Bringer of Enemas." As I listed to the track the music was such that it seemed to represent my mom getting out the enema bag, running the water, adding soap, hanging the bag, and administering it. Then a quiet passage seemed to represent the waiting as the enema churned away up inside the recipient, the urge to expel growing with each minute, until finally there comes that crescendo meaning that the time has come when it cannot be held any longer and wave after wave comes pouring out. Finally the music gets quiet and it is the peace along with a glorious feeling of relief that ultimately follows a good cleaning out.