Just a little more. Almost done.

Who else got an enema when someone told you this, and your bowels about to explode? A mom, Aunt, or Grandma telling you that " almost done ", along with just a bit more, or being told that that the last of the enemas does the best good.

I got lots of encouragement to take just a little more. Anyone else, and what did they say to you ?

This is a fondly remembered moment in enemas from my giver. I’d be on my left side in his bed and hear him say, “You’ve almost taken it all, honey,” and then feel him hold the nozzle in my bottom with one hand as he lifted the can with the other, bringing the last of the water in.

Shortly after, he’d very gently remove the nozzle, get into bed next to me, and begin massaging my abdomen with his warm hands. While this was always for an IBS attack and often hurt some at first, he was very good at relaxing my trouble spots and would soon have me comfortable. I loved his touch and his encouragements.

My wonderful colon hydrotherapist used, sadly she is no longer working, to hold my hand and massage my tummy whilst filling me and yes she would ask "do you think you could take a little more?".

There was no question about when I released. She was the judge of that. She would maintain the clamp on the discharge line until she was ready and with the CSRE-2.75 colonic speculum enhancement nozzle implanted I wasn't going anywhere!

Then it was the same thing all over again, several times, until she achieved her goal - the cecum flush

Mom was quite vocal during those childhood enemas. Those words and many other phrases became happy ending triggers for me. After filling me with the bulb syringe, my late wife would insist that I hold the enema until her slow stroking produced the desired result. Asking me repeatedly if the enema feels good, or telling me about how she needs a good one too was all it took.

When mom gave me an enema with the bulb syringe, there wasn’t a specific number of bulbs that I needed to take. I was allowed to tell her when I was full and it wasn’t always the same number of bulbs that made me feel full enough to ask her to stop. Sometimes if she felt I didn’t take as much as she thought that I should, she would encourage me to try one more, and sometimes I would try another one but if I said that I couldn’t take anymore, we were done. I guess not being forced to take a specific amount is one of the reasons why I liked those enemas.

As kids growing up in the nineteen fifties, mom, grandma, and our teenage aunts, all gave us enemas using a two-quart douche/enema bag. The first enema I can remember getting, was from my grandmother, when I was around four or five years old. She was sitting on a bench, against a wall in the bathroom, and I was laying naked across her lap. If I turned my head, I could see the bag hanging on the wall, and its red hose leading to the nozzle buried inside me.

We never knew, how much soapy or rinse water was in the bag, until around age eight. However, in some respects, it really didn't make a difference. Because, as a rule, we had to try an empty the bag. If we couldn't, and asked them to stop, they stopped. However, if they thought we hadn't taken enough, the enema was repeated. Even after we knew how much was in the bag, it didn't change the fact, we had to try and finish it, if we could. That being said, my siblings and I, never really had a problem emptying the bag.

The soapy enemas we received, weren't as large, as the rinse enemas afterwards. They were always a little larger, and if they thought we hadn't taken enough, we got another one. Growing up, I can still remember hearing "Just a little more." More times, than I care to think about, during either a soapy or rinse enema.

My mom would say honey we are almost done you will feel so much better after it's over. I would be usually fussing and crying and maybe yelling. No No No Oh No... . I have to go now... My mom said almost honey. You are doing so good I am proud of you. Ok that is it let's get you on the potty now. Sitting on the toliet it felt like my butt was about to explode which caused me to cry and try to hold it in. my mom said let it all out sweet heart. She would coach me though it telling me I was a good boy as my behind exploded.