Ever asked for an enema when you were a child?

Believe me! Growing up, an enema was the last thing that I had to ask for. All I had to do was look a little sluggish and I was face down over the toilet seat with my bare butt the apex of my anatomy. Hell, my mother gave me at enema during Christmas break when I was home for college and I wasn't sick. I was hungover. I don't know to this day if she knew I had drank too much or I was coming down with something. The enema did make me feel better.

@ddell2 Out of curiosity: was there anything special in the enema for hangover? Plain water?

Soap and water -- clean out enema.

@ddell2 Wow. I think my mother in law used water + some electrolytes (baking soda) for hydration during hang-over.

@ddell2 Out of curiosity: was there anything special in the enema for a hangover? Plain water?

I have had hydration enemas. Mother used apple juice with olive oil added -- small volume, long retention time. In this case. I don't think my mother knew that I was hungover. I was home on break from college.

I too never had to ask for an enema. At the slightest sign of constipation, excessive gas, fever, or any other common ailments the bag was out and I was getting a soapy fill. Mom just seemed to know anytime things were not right down there.

No

When I was 5 or 6 I recall telling my mom I couldn't poop. She said she could give me an enema but I refused, at least for a day or two. By then I told Mom that I wanted her to give me an enema. I recall her administering one then, with Dad watching.

Oh yeah…… the first I ever had one against my will was at 4 or 5, and I remember that vividly. But from there, from 8 til maybe 11 or 12 there was a week or more every year when my dad left town and I was alone with mom. I would start the I don’t feel good bit…..carry that on for a day or so…..then sheepishly report that my stomach hurt. She would always ask when was my last BM😁. I’d of course tell her a couple of days ago. She would say “you’re probably backed up. Do you need some help?” I’d say no, not yet, but then next morning she would ask again, and say, “do you want some water in your bottom?” JACKPOT! I’d sheepishly say OK. Next thing I know she’d have the hospital bag (surgery souvenir) out of the drawer and out of its box, running water. Now that thing held 1500 ml? She never filled it more than a third or so. I would strip to my tighty whities, and enter the bathroom. She’d be in the toilet, almost always in a dress with an apron. She would put a towel on the floor. I would get into hands/knees position, my butt facing her. She would open the old Vaseline jar and get a small button of the goo and rub on the end of the hose AND gently lube my eagerly awaiting hole. Then the tube would slide in, she was asked if I was ready, then CLICK - it had a spring steel metal clip on it. The warm water would pour in and I would try to drain the bag. At the end I would run to the other bathroom, or send her out. Later she would wash everything up, re-box, put in bottom drawer of dresser, and it was our little secret! I don’t think she ever figured out I only did that when there was no fear of dad walking in on us.

No, I don't think there was ever an age where I felt like that was an appropriate thing to ask.

On the contrary, the few times anyone decided I was spending too much time on the toilet, I was just told to go self-administer under threat of hemorrhoids.