Who’s mom squeezed the bag

Mom would roll the closed top bag to get the solution in at times or with the amber latex bag wait until a fourth was in and twist the top closed and squeeze the bag. Any body else have that done ?

The first true adult enema I received from Mom happened in such a way that as I looked up I saw Mom squeezing the Rexall Victoria Combination bottle. I must add that I had been after my Mom for about 3 months just to get her to give me one. A girl that lived next door to us and I were friends and we talked just about anything including enemas. We both got enemas from small red bulb syringes, but one day, that changed. Her Mother had started giving her adult enemas with her open top douche bag and Dattie told me that it was way different than the tiny bulb enemas that we both had been given. She said that she liked the feeling that the enema gave her as she filled and that I should get my Mom to give me one. Well, I thought about it and a couple of mornings later I went into the kitchen and found Mom sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and smoking one of her Salem cigarettes. I sat down across from her. She said "good morning! do you want anything for breakfast?" I smiled at her and said, "No, Mom, but I would like you to give me something." Mom asked me..."Mike, what is it?" I took her free hand and looking her straight in her eyes said "Mom, will you please give me an adult enema today?" Mom looked at me like I had a screw loose. She shook her head and said "come again! I, again, stated 'Mom, will you please give me an adult enema today?' Mom's mouth opened, but nothing came out of her mouth. Finally, after a minute or so, Mom did say something "Mike, where on earth have you heard of such a thing?" I told her. She shook her head almost in disbelief. A minute or so passed and nothing else was said. I ended the silence, by saying "Please, MaMa!" Mom didn't say anything, so I got up and went into the living room to watch some tv. The next morning came and I, again, asked her to please give me one. Mom did not respond. Day after day came and went and even though I asked Mom for adult enemas, all I got was enemas from that tiny little red bulb. Meanwhile, Dattie continued to tell me when her Mother had given her one with her Mom's douche bag. I knew, I needed help. So, I rode my bike over to my Mom's Mother's house. Mam Maw appeared surprised to see me when she opened the door, but she let me in and we went into her kitchen where she gave me a coke to drink. I wasted little time in explaining what I had come for. She listened and did not put me down. She asked me if I was sure that I wanted her help. I told her I was. Mam Maw then said "Mike, please understand this, you had better be sure of what you ask, for it just might not be what you think!" I told grandma that I was sure and please help me. Mam Maw smiled at me, patted me on the head and she walked me to the door saying "ok, Mike, I will do what I can, but I can not assure you that you will be getting one of those things." I kissed her cheek, told her thanks and rode my bike back to my house. When I arrived home, I went onto the porch and sat down on the porch swing. I was still on that swing when Mam Maw drove up in the drive. As she got out of her can, she pulled out a large sack with a black and orange box sticking out of the end. When she got onto the porch, she sat on the swing with me for a minute or so. She told me that she was going in to talk to Mom, but, again she reminded me that she could not promise me anything. About 15 minutes or so later, grandma, again, appeared on the porch, this time without the sack and box. She, again, sat down on the swing with me. I waited for her to say something and finally she did. "Mike, ok, I've done it. Your mother listened, but made no statement that she would do it." I kissed her cheek and told her that I loved her. She patted my head, got off the swing and left. I waited another 5 minutes before going into the house. When I did I eased my way into the kitchen were Mom was, again, sitting at the table. The sack that Mam Maw had brought in with her was also on the table. Mom said nothing about it, but she did say "Wow, Mike, I can't believe you have involved my Mom in such a request." I didn't know what to say so I got up and went into my room. I sort of waited thinking Mom would come in and give me my first adult enema. But, Mom did not come. I waited a couple of days before I restarted my quest to get Mom to give me an adult enema, but she, like before, ignored me. Finally, a couple of months had passed. It was a Saturday morning. I didn't have school and Mom didn't have to go to work. Normally, we both would sleep in, but not that morning. Mom had been busy. She came into my room and woke me by rubbing the back of my neck with a finger. Once I was awake, Mom took my hand and lead me into my bathroom. I spotted the box Mam Maw had brought Mom open on the washing machine. Nothing was in it. I turned toward the back wall where the toilet was and I spotted a reddish orange hot water bottle hanging from a hook on the wall. There was also a reddish orange tube extending down from the bottle with a silver looking clamp on it. At the end of the tubing was a black nozzle with Vaseline smeared on it. Butterflies began fluttering in my belly. I left the room and hid behind my closet door. Mom called out saying "Mike, if you want me to give you this here adult enema that you have been begging me for you'd better get back in here. If not, I am going to take it down and if I do, I do not want to hear another word about adult enemas, you hear?" I came back into the room. I took off my undies and lay across the toilet. Mom pulled on my left hip exposing my hole. She, then, took the nozzle and slipped it into my rectum. Once it was secure, Mom asked me if I was ready. I told her that I was. She unsnapped the shut-off and nothing happened. A minute or so passed when Mom asked me if I could feel the water. I told her "no." I looked up and saw Mom holding the hot water bottle. She was squeezing it. Again, she askd me if I felt anything? I said "maybe!" Mom continued to squeeze the bag. Finally, I felt what Dattie said was so wonderful. Water! Mom, after that particular enema, gave me 2 more that morning and the little red bulb was retired .... never again to be used on me. My enemas from then on was always with that Rexall Victoria Combination syringe that Mam Maw had bought for me. Thank You, Mom and Mam Maw

She squeezed it and rung it for every drop of water.

Never received enemas as a kid except the fleet at 6, but I squeezed my enema bag to make sure all the water was in. Only issue is that there's more air.

Was not lucky enough to get many enemas from Mom, but always liked them. When I was "playing," I would often do that with women I played with, especially if there was an interruption in the flow. I've done it with myself on occasion, but it's usually unnecessary, since if the bag is a closed top, I normally overfill it so there will be plenty of pressure to get everything started...

My mom never squeezed the bag. For her gravity was going to do the work and all the warm soapy contents of the bag would eventually be in my bowels. When I think back to those times, it seemed like she was making me take an awful lot of enema when in fact it was seldom much more than a quart. That is what likely made her enemas so comfortable. Not too much, not given too quickly, and they were much easier to hold too.

Mine never did but my best friend’s mom would put it on the floor and step on it, or so he said. Never saw so had to take his word for it. I can just imagine what a sudden rush of hot, and soapy water that was for him. And she was a big woman so the pressure must have been something else!

I don't remember my mom squeezing The bag, but when the bag was half empty she would pick it up off the hamper and hold it up. I know that my Aunt did for sure. My cousins if they knew my sister or I had got one they would simulate a squeezing bag when they would tease us. A few times my aunt was enlisted or probably encouraged my mom to let her help she held the bag the whole time and would roll the bag to get it in quicker.

Never received enemas as a kid except the fleet at 6, but I squeezed my enema bag to make sure all the water was in. Only issue is that there's more air.

If it's a closed bag as long as it was full when you started, squeezing it should not give you more air. I will sometimes squeeze a bag if I think it isn't going in or will raise it over my head once or twice to get it all in.

Mom never squeezed the bag when I was getting an enema. The red family fountain syringe hung on the robe hook next to the toilet and gravity provided the flow. One hand held the nozzle in place up to the hilt, while her other hand was on either my back, my butt cheek or working the clamp. I imagine she would looked at it to announce our progress as my bottoms-up position did not allow for watching the bag. To the best of my recollection she only reached for the bag when it was drained, to either rinse it out or fill it for a second enema.

What she was good at squeezing was the bulb syringe. Not fast or hard, but steady until the bulb was fully compressed and the soapy water delivered. She could really give a good enema.

Not my mom, but:

The first time I was given an enema with a Fountain Syringe at about 11years old for being badly constipated.

I don't think I'd not gone in 5 to 7 days and neither a laxative nor an 8oz adult bulb had done anything to make me poo.

The doctor ordered a bag enema and a visiting nurse came to give it to me. At the time I had no idea what was to happen.

She prepared an enema with warm water and Ivory bar soap, out of my view in the bathroom. Then came into my bedroom

carrying the filled red Rexall Roxbury fountain syringe. I was on my tummy on the bed, protected by a pad of newspapers.

I saw her open the clip and jet some water onto the pad to purge the tube, and felt the nozzle enter me. She then opened the clamp and held the bag a foot or two above me. I felt nothing. After a few minutes, I saw her over my shoulder, squeezing the bag, to see how much water was left, I think.

After a while more, she closed the clip and removed the nozzle. Soon, I felt a very strong urge to poo and asked to get up. Se asked why and I replied I had to go to the bathroom and was told OK. I ran to the toilet and whitish water started to pour out, uncontrollably. The soap I guess. The VN came in and sat on the tub rim as I pood, likely to be sure the enema worked well. After a while she got a bottle of liuid laxative and gave me a big spoonful "to keep me going" and left. I never saw her again.

No, my mom would have needed three hands. One hand was holding me in place over her lap, the second was holding the pipe in my bum, and if available that third hand would have been the one squeezing the bag. The bag was hung at a height where it just emptied its contents into me at a very predictable rate. I suppose it was comfortable, but given my choices would have rather been doing almost anything other than getting an enema.

My grandma squeezed the bag on me a time or two because I was making too much of a fuss. Boy! They must have heard me 4 blocks away.

When I got my first enema from a bag, a Rexall Roxbury Fountain I was on my bed, lying flat on my tummy, with the hose up me. After a bit I looked over my left shoulder and saw her holding the bag in her left hand about two feet above me. I then saw her reach with her right hand and squeeze the bag, roughly in the middle.

In thinking about it, squeezing an open top bag does not work to increase the solution flow, so there must be another reason. I now think she squeezed it to determine how much solution had gone in and how much was left to be given.

My mother was a 'raiser' who lifted the bag off the towel rack and raised it up if she thought the flow had stalled or she wanted to get the last couple of cups in. My Aunt Elizabeth who was an RN was a 'squeezer. She would squeeze the bag to either clear an obstruction or increase the flow if it slowed. She would always finish up an enema by saying, "Good to the last drop."

I often wondered if she did it the same way in the hospital where she worked before joining a doctor's office staff.

The other day when I wrote about when I had my last enema, I waited until my wife had gone to bed to go wash the bag, hose and nozzle and hang them up to dry. But.....when I actually had the bag in my hands I thought I might as well give myself another one right then and there before washing it. I got the bag filled with very warm soapy water and hung it as before, but this time instead of sitting to take it I stood facing the hanging bag with the nozzle inserted. As the flow began to fill me I was overcome with the urge to really FEEL it. I reached up and squeezed the bag and already being mostly cleaned out from the previous enema earlier I could feel the warm water really flowing up through me. Oh what a wonderful feeling. I kept squeezing until every last drop was fully in me and then just stood there for awhile savoring the sensation of a full colon and expanded belly. Finally I had to expel and finally got around to the job I had put off of washing it. Again, I think an enema is the best gift you can give yourself and sometimes doing something a little different like squeezing the bag is an extra bonus.

Mom would take her yellow douche bag when half empty twist the bag until sealed and squeezed the rest in. My aunt as the bag emptied would raise the bag higher. If you took that she would add more to the bag from the measuring cup she had !

I have noticed that when my wife gives me my enemas that she does squeeze the bag when there is maybe a pint or so left in the bag. The odd thing, though, is that the bag is a open top fountain syringe. And I doubt that squeezing the bottom of that bag does little to aid the water into me. I think all that she is doing is moving the water up into the bag and not down through the hose. To reason with her, I have asked her nicely to just lift the bag maybe a foot or so above where it is hung. But, she persists to just sit and squeeze. My wife is a great lady and I love her to the moon and back, but when it comes to understanding what I am saying... well, that's just not going to happen. I may just have to show her.

My Mom never squeezed or raised the bag. I guess she had it at the right height because every single drop managed to leave the bag and enter my bottom. She wouldn’t stop it until I had taken it all. Then I had to hold it “so the soapy water can do it’s job”, she would say.

The one I got when I was nine mom did not squeeze the bag. My sister got them often and she told me that if the nozzle was in but nothing was flowing mom would take the bag off of the hook and raise the bag high. If that did not start it flowing she would squeeze the bag until my sister said she could feel it flowing.

That is a good question. It must be somewhat common. I remember my sister telling her girlfriend that while giving her an enema in my bathroom. I had to say where because I know someone would ask how I heard it.

Mom didn’t squeeze the bag during my enemas because it was an open-top bag. On the occasions where the flow stopped, usually because I was so blocked up that my poop had clogged the nozzle she would just raise the bag to it’s maximum height to increase the flow rate. If this didn’t work the enema nozzle would be removed and she would get the bulb syringe with the long curved douche nozzle, fill it with warm water and slid it up my bottom and gently but firmly break up the blockage by sliding the nozzle in and out while squeezing the bulb. It didn’t hurt and was a great alternative to having a nurse do a digital disimpaction.

I got all my age 9--12 (1959-63) constipation relief enemas with a Victoria enema bag.Per Doctor it was hung @ 18" above the level of my buttocks. At age 11 it was raised to 20". There was no need to squeeze the bag. Depending on how constipated I was it would take 5 to as long as 7 minutes for the bag to always go empty. The full 32 ozs. (40 ozs.@ age 11 on) would go in--no bag squeeze needed.

Mom always hung the red bag on the towel rack. That was quite sufficient for a thorough fill. However, if I complained or squirmed too much she would squeeze the bag which made the Ivory soap enema fill much faster and it hurt. That stopped my fussing.

Mine never squeezed the bag, but was a pro at squeezing the bulb!

Never had the bag squeezed.... all my enemas were given to me by my father... I remember getting it one time from the enema bag he asked if it was flowing in - foolishly, and out of defiance, I would said it was not going in. He then raised the bag higher and I really got it.

My parents sure squeezed the bag. Oh my that caused cramps and huge pressure in my belly. Then feeling like I could pop and had to go poop really bad. Then being placed on the potty crying as my butt exploded. Oh the memories...