So, as time went on, I kept getting constipated and the enemas kept getting administered. I grew to like them, of course. I got excited with the thought of getting an enema or two from Mum.
Saturday became “enema day”. A gentle probing of my rectum would determine how many enemas she thought I should have. This was always confirmed by the expulsion in the toilet. She always examined what came out. Sometimes, I would get 3 enemas.
One Saturday morning, my aunt came by. She was also an RN. I always wondered if she was into this “enema thing". I always figured I was the only one who got enemas. Boy, was I wrong. I found out over time that a lot of constipated people were out there, getting a lot of enemas.
They were at the kitchen table talking, and I figured my enemas would be put off until later. Wrong, again. I was within earshot of their conversation. It got interesting for me when they started talking about patients and different treatments, including enemas. My mother said “Well, I was about to give S… his weekly enemas. Would you like to help me?”
I about collapsed on the floor in the next room. Enemas were embarrassing enough with just my mother. Now my aunt was going to join in? They disappeared upstairs to my mother's room, still talking about enemas. I tried to disappear also, into the basement. I knew it wouldn't work. I got the call, and went upstairs to the bathroom.
“Aunt B… is going to help me today with your enemas. You know she is a nurse like me, don't you?” “Yes.” “Okay, so take your pants and underwear off, like always, and bend over the tub.” I did as I was told. Got on my knees, leaning over the tub. “I always start with a rectal exam on him, to see if he might need some mineral oil first, or perhaps a very strong sse”, she said to my aunt. “Sometimes he gets close to impacted.”
“Have you had to dis-impact him?” “Not yet, but if I don't keep a close eye on him, I may have to”. I heard them both snap on the rubber gloves. I heard the vaseline jar being opened. I was on display. I felt like a guinea pig. My mother went on with the program, instructing Aunt B… on what to do. I gathered my mother had more experience than her.
“Would you hold his buttocks apart, while I give him a quick rectal?” My aunt got next to me, bent over, and spread my ass cheeks open. I felt mum's finger at my anus, pushing a glob of vaseline into my hole. Her finger followed, twisting up inside my rectum. “Oh, he is quite full of hard stool.” Aunt B.. said “Is he always this constipated?” “Usually. Here, feel for yourself." She handed the vaseline to my aunt. My mother moved over and spread my cheeks. I felt Aunt B.. probing my rectum. “My, he is quite full.” Her finger stayed in my rectum, probing. Yes, my pecker was hard by then.
“We'll give him a strong soapsuds enema to start” said Mum, “with a 26 French rectal tube. I think we can get it past the stool with the right lubrication and insertion technique. I have done it before. The 2 quart should do it for the initial enema." “Do you ever give him more than 2 quarts?” asked my aunt. “No, but I do give him additional enemas. Today he will need several.” “I agree, he is really plugged up."
I was the guinea pig, for sure. Four enemas from the metal irrigator, that my aunt was happy to hold in the air. They both got to insert the rectal tube, to their delight, and my embarrassment. I have to admit, I enjoyed my aunt's finger in my hole, despite the embarrassment. She inserted the rubber colon tube under my mother's direction. She got the right angle, the right twisting and back and forth movement to get it inserted past the hard stool. Mother, of course was controlling the flow from the irrigator. My aunt did the same while my mother did the insertions. It was a good cleansing. They both agreed after enema number 4 that the returns were good. Despite my feelings about the whole affair, my body did feel much better.