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Views: 15861 Created: 2007.07.17 Updated: 2007.07.17

A Comfortable Thanksgiving

A Comfortable Thanksgiving

Several stories ago I told of how my cousin Debbie and I had spent time together especially over summer vacation when we were growing up. It's now many years since those wonderful summer days and we've each married and had families of our own. Both Debbie and I got enemas from our moms when needed and in turn have given them to our own children the same way. The following story about Debbie's oldest daughter, Dawn, seems appropriate for the season. Hope you enjoy!

At this time of year when many people are gathering for Thanksgiving many family members typically request those dishes that have been long-time favorites. You could call these comfort foods, and there is a long list of those that come to mind many of which not having anything to do with Thanksgiving. In our house, comfort foods include homemade soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, oatmeal, hot chocolate, apple pie, and meatloaf. There are other things associated with the word comfort, too, as this story seems to suggest. But now I'll let Debbie tell her own story!

It was just the day before Thanksgiving and our daughter, Dawn, had arrived home from college for the holiday late on Tuesday night. She attends a university that's about five hours driving time from home and had left after her last class, but also stopped en route for something quick to eat. Like all college students she hates early classes and will take the opportunity to sleep in whenever it presents itself. This particular Wednesday morning was no exception.

"Morning, Mom!" said Dawn coming into the kitchen and greeting me. By all appearances, Dawn, dressed in old sweats and hair still somewhat disheveled had tumbled out of bed and made the kitchen her first stop after the bathroom.

"Morning, Sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

"Fine. Do we have any oatmeal?"

"Sure, check the pantry. But since when do you eat oatmeal for breakfast? I thought you never had time."

"I usually don't, but even when I do I usually just grab a protein bar."

"So what's the special occasion this morning?"

"I guess I just want some comfort food. That's all?"

"Are you OK? It so unlike you."

"I think I'm going to make myself some oatmeal and a cup of tea. It just sounds good this morning," replied Dawn putting a pot of water on the stove and turning up the flame.

"I suppose being away from home for long stretches makes you want to be nostalgic about some of the old routines. Thanksgiving has always been that way for me, I know."

"I just want to feel pampered a little this morning, I guess," said Dawn pouring some oats into the now boiling water and not sounding as chipper as I normally I have known her.

"Pampering is good for all of us every now and then. I know I sure enjoy those moments when I can kind of self-indulge. Besides, you've been working really hard this semester and every now and then you need to let go."

"That's true, but I'm PMS-ing right now, too. I'll be OK in a day or two once my period starts," Dawn offered as explanation. "Today will be just one of those days when nothing will go right. I just know it. My jeans will be too tight, my bra will feel a cup size too small, and I'm already feeling pretty moody, too."

"Now I understand the comfort issue. Just take it easy and relax," I offered. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Well, there kind of is something that I could use," she continued pouring the now-finished oatmeal into a bowl and adding some milk and brown sugar. "Do you remember when I was younger and you would give me something to help me go to the bathroom?"

"I do. And I think there are some laxative tablets in the medicine closet upstairs."

"That's not exactly what I meant though. There were other things that you'd do to help me," said Dawn not specifically using the word, enema, but was sure that her mother knew what she meant.

"Oh, yes! I sure did. And I also remember how you never liked getting one all that well, although you were usually pretty good about taking one for me."

"I remember that, too," Dawn said with a smile. "I didn't like them at all, but I knew that you just wanted to take good care of me." Dawn took a spoonful of her oatmeal and I could tell that it truly was comfort food to her by the way she seemed to savor the mouthful.

"So why did you bring that up?" I asked somewhat bluntly.

"Well, an enema on a morning like this would be another comfort thing for me, that's all."

"You're probably right. And I know it wouldn't hurt you at all. You know where the enema bag is in the hall closet. I assume that you use the one you took away to school so you know how to make one for yourself."

"I take one sometimes, but not every month. I was also kind of surprised that some of the other girls in the dorm take them, too. It wasn't until that I saw some of the others with enema bags did I decided to bring that extra one you had last year."

"So after breakfast you can go take an enema and then shower. You'll feel better, I know you will."

"That's probably true, but I guess I was hoping that you'd give me one instead. I would never have admitted it then, but you always gave good enemas. Would you? Just one more time? Please?!"

"OK, I think I can do that. But finish you oatmeal first."

A few minutes later Dawn and I were in the upstairs bathroom. I'd already retrieved the box containing the combination syringe from the hall linen closet. With a certain irony, Dawn was pleased to know that the bag was a Comfy brand which seemed appropriate enough given the current conversation. She'd told me that she wanted a really comfortable enema that would give her minimum crampingóMy intentions were to give her a not quite a full bag of warm water with two teaspoons of baking soda would work just fine.

"Why don't you spread a few of those big bath towels on your bed," I said as I put the baking soda in the bag, filled it with water, and secured the stopper with its attached hose. "I'll be right in with this." Dawn went to the linen closet for the towels as I let some enema flow through the hose to be certain there was no air that would cause her cramping. When I got to her bedroom, Dawn had already spread the towels on her bed. When she saw me coming, she stepped out of her sweatpants and slipped off her bikinis. She smiled at me and said, "Thanks, Mom," before lying down on the bed on her left side.

I set the syringe down on the bed and opened the jar of Vaseline that I'd also brought along. Taking a generous portion on my index finger I lubed her well. "Golly, but it's been years since I've had to have done this for Dawn," I said silently to myself. "But after all, what are moms for?"

"Now take a nice deep breath for me," I instructed. When she did, I inserted the black rectal nozzle. It was amazing how much better Dawn tolerated this process than when she was younger and would at least whine about having to get an enema. I clicked open the metal clamp and held the bag about two feet above the bed. The enema started to flow.

"Oh, Mom. That feels nice. I can sense the warmth. I think I'm feeling better already."

I just smiled and reached over and rubbed Dawn's back with my free hand making certain that the other kept the enema bag appropriately elevated. "You're doing just fine, Sweetie," I told her.

"You know I just can't believe how much I appreciate an enema now that I'm older. Especially considering how much I hated them when I was younger. I remember the feeling of dread that would come over me every time I either went into the bathroom and saw the enema bag drying in the tub or if I knew that you'd gotten it out of the linen closet. Whenever you did, I always assumed that it was for me."

"You're doing fine. Look, the bag is nearly empty," I said clicking the clamp shut and removing the nozzle from Dawn's bottom. I let her get up to go to the bathroom and expel in privacy. Cleaning up the enema bag could wait until later. I then went back downstairs.

Dawn took her time and expelled the enema. Afterwards she took a nice long hot bath instead of showering. It wasn't until nearly an hour later that she rejoined me in the kitchen downstairs. "Feeling better, Sweetie?" I asked.

"Oh, Mom. You just can't believe how much better I feel. Thanks. I can't believe how that was such a comfortable enema. I wish I knew how to give them to myself that good."

"That's great. I knew it would work. What I really like about them is that they always do! Now, what do you think you want me to make for lunch?"

"How about grilled cheese?" said Dawn. "I haven't had that in a long time. Maybe even with some bacon and tomato if you have any. And I love it."

"I guess that the word for today around here really is comfort, isn't it?!" Both of us had a good laugh, mostly because it was true.

"It is for me!" she exclaimed with a broad smile.


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