Believe it or not, when i woke up in the world at about 3 years, the furthest back i have any definite recollection, we were living out away from everything, they were living off the land and paying on 30 acres of an undeveloped field. Dad drove his 38 Plymouth into town 5 days a week. He also had a disability from his WW-2 service. His guts were literally spilled, and poked back in using tape that needed the gum to be heated over a candle. But by the grace of God! Mom always said he rescued her, and he would shake his head, "NO" she was his rescue. They put up a little three room shack out there as soon as they were done with the war effort. Maybe, it is easy to see now, most of our living life was out doors, and he needed regular enemas. His guts were no longer infected, but neither care free. As kids will be, mom liked to tell me how watching them, i simply turn my butt around and poke it up to get some too. This was more normal for us than bathing our bodies.
Some out door advice: Don't pollute your water source. Often your enema is taken standing or leaning against a tree. Lovers like to put one another in their lap, if they can. But that means getting at least some of it on your feet and legs. 😂 His pump just poured out into a concrete tank, for the farm animals. To get it to fill their overhead tank, he screwed a cap over the discharge pipe. The cap also had a capped nipple on it. The big cap had ear like handles, used to help fix it onto the main discharge. Holding onto those, he could get some of it to blow into his belly.
Out there they had put in a water well, wooden overhead tank, and the house while still renting in town. They met while building ships in the SFO Bay area. Both knew farm life as children, but 2,000 miles apart. We can only imagine the thrills and adventure they built out there in wide open spaces of Sacramento and San Juoquin Valley edges of the foot hills.