Waiting time before enema

You are in your room. you hear the footsteps of your mother or aunt is coming to bring you to the bathroom to give you a enema. You know in the next minute you have to take off your clothes and get into the position to receive the enema. You feel fear, humiliation, anxiety for the upcoming enema or suppository. How were you feeling?

Or, in my case, I am either in the bedroom setting up the bed for the enema in the bathroom mixing the enema, or back in the bedroom with the mixed enema making the final preparations.

I'm thinking about, Is the room secure and distractions minimized?

How long since the oral bisacodyl? Don't want it kicking in too soon.

Is it time to pee?

I have so many things to think about I almost don't have time to let that nervous anticipation that is back there in the back of my mind to get too close to my active thought process.

LisaK described it about perfect when saying "Nervous anticipation". That is a great way to put it and it may be my favorite part of an enema.

I don't remember when it was, I was perhaps 6-10 years of age, I was at home, sick in bed. My mother would put me in her bedroom because it was easier to care for me rather to go to the other end of the house. Sometimes I would hear her talking on the phone with the doctor, other times not. I would hear her in the bathroom with the water running in the sink. I would become suspicious, about what she was up to. I would dare not go in there, but I'd ask, mommy, what are you doing? The answer was "testing." It reminded me of the execution chamber being prepared for it's next customer.

The "testing" was preparing the enema bag, it was an amber folding open top bag, I remember the opening on the top was black, and the place where the amber hose attached was black. The nozzle was always the small child size nozzle.

A neighbor would come over, the enema bag would be hung from the ceiling light and I'd be told to roll onto my belly with my pajamas down, the fight began. I'd always lose and would end up taking the bag. I have no idea if there was anything added to the bag, soap, salt, etc. I'd put up a terrific fight, and was told if I kept fighting, I'd get another one, so I'd stop fighting.

Years later, I'd start experimenting with that same enema bag which always hung in the shower. I had no idea what masturbation was, for that matter, didn't know anything about sex. What I did learn though, while laying on the bathroom floor giving myself a tap water enema, I got an erection and would spontaneously ejaculate. I'm guessing I was about 13 years old then.

the hoseman1 - fire hose, silicon rubber hose, latex hose, all kinds of hoses

With my (1959-63) boyhood constipation relief enemas--I had a 30-45 minute "wait time" as my Dad prepared the Dr.approved warm (103°-104°F)enema in the kitchen. Testing the temp of the solution, pouring it into the enema bag then taken to the bathroom, hung on the (nail) @ the 18" above my buttocks level point. The air was flushed out of the 4" black child enema nozzle and generously lubricated and ready..I had a lot of 9 year old boy nervous/panicky anticipation and goose bumps.A lot of (melodramatic) verbal fussing/griping, some hystronic crying--and some (face down) mild wriggle-squirm as the full enema was given.

I can honestly remember a couple of times where waiting times before me taking an enema was special. Time number one was when I was somewhere around the age of nine. Enemas were nothing new to me for I had been taking them since birth. However, my Mother had found a new doctor since our family doctor had retired. The new doctor did not believe in anyone taking enemas, including me. He, actually, called the "Barbaric" in front of me and instructed my Mom to stop giving me enemas and immediately and start giving me an oral laxative called Castoria. I absolutely hated the taste of that stuff. In fact, I often gagged the moment that the stuff entered my mouth, but Mom kept right on pouring that stuff into my body.

At least once a week, I would beg Mom to not give me Castoria, but give me an enema instead. But, Mom had nothing to do with that.

I even enlisted her Mom to help convince Mom to help me out. Mother, actually, became furious with me when her Mom talked to her about my request. If I had been a roach, I would have been squashed! I didn't want to see her or even hear her.

Several weeks went by and Mom saw me at least ten times throw my guts up when she gave me my Castoria. Maybe that evidence may have convinced Mom to at least once and a while give me an enema instead of that dreaded oral laxative.

The one I am talking about occurred on a Saturday morning during July. Mom didn't have to work and I slept late. Grandma had come over to the house to chat and drink some coffee. Well, I guess they talked about my problem because Mom prepared me an enema, hung it up in my bathroom and eased into my room to wake me up. Once I was awake, Mother pulled me out of bed and led me into my bathroom. Upon entering I could hardly believe my eyes. Mom's Rexall Victoria Combination syringe was filled and waiting for me. I, for some reason, became embarrassed and turned and ran into my bedroom. I hid behind my closet door. Mom, I think, became a little bit perturbed and called out to me "Mike, if you want me to give you this here enema, you had better come in here now or I am going to take this damn thing down and if I do, I do not want to hear another word about you wanting me to give you an enema!"

Well, butterflies were flying all around in my stomach. I felt really odd. I knew I wanted this here enema. In fact, I wanted this here enema really bad. So, I slipped from behind the closet door and eased my way back into my bathroom.

Mom was in there waiting, red enema hose in her hand, with the black enema nozzle glistening with Vaseline. I just stood there watching Mom. Mother broke the silence saying "Well, Mike, are you just going to stand there glaring at me or are you going to get out those underpants and come over here and let me give you your enema. I quickly slipped out of the underpants and walked over to Mom and kissed her cheek saying "Mom, I love you so, so much!"

Mom patted my head and pushed me into a knee chest position. I snuggled down on the towel Mom had put there for me. Then, Mom slide the black enema nozzle into my rectum and gave me my enema!

I, absolutely, loved it and wish that I could re-live that event just once. It was great!

I remember enemas more or less were like a ritual / routine . At times if I was sick I could here the preparations and would get the butterflies in tummy. The feeling of anticipation. Then the bed would be covered with a rubber pad and a towel and I was put in position . The bag would be brought in. Grandmother helped at times .

Anticipation of an enema is very arousing. Hanging the full bag and the glistening black nozzle knowing where it will be going soon and the feelings that will come on whether it’s the urge, the struggle, the slow building full feeling. Whatever. The anticipation is great. Goes along with an enema schedule

I was feeling all of it. The fear of what was about to happen., the humiliation of being naked in front of my mother and Aunt even though they have seen me this was lots of times, but now you are a lot older, in your late teens, early 20's so you are more mature in so many area's of your body. You walk into the bathroom and see the eight red bulbs sitting on the counter and each of the nozzles glistening with Vaseline. Your mother and Aunt smile as they see your hard manhood. Your Aunt sits on the closed toilet seat and pats her lap. You place yourself in a way that your ass is in perfect position to receive each of the four full bulbs that she will slide in and out of your puckering rosebud hole. She takes the first bulb, spreads your clenched tush with her thumb and forefinger exposing your hole, firmly but gently she pushes the nozzle all the way in and then in a steady motion squeezes the bulb till all the liquid empties into your rectum and bowels, then she slides the nozzle out. She does the same thing with the other three bulbs. When she is done she helps you up so she can get up and my mother sit down. I'm clenching my bottom so I don't leak. My mother sits down and I go over her lap the same way so she can insert the other four bulbs with the warm liquid into my hiney hole. She holds the last nozzle in so I don't leak and waits for the liquid to work and I have to go. I tell my mom, I need to go potty NOW. She gets up and puts the lid up and I sit down and evacuate the mixture of liquid and fecal matter into the toilet bowl. As my Aunt and Mother watch me and wait till I finish, I couldn't help but notice wet spots in the middle of their pants. I smiled to myself knowing that they climaxed giving me the enema. To add further embarrassment, when I was finished I had to bend over the sink so they could wipe my dirty bottom.

With the occasional on going battle with constipation if I was getting seemingly blocked up my mom would let me know in the morning I could expect an enema later. Those statements alone instilled so much nervousness into me, any chance I had of finding bowel relief on my own were pretty much gone. I remember always being optimistic that I would be able to talk my way out of it somehow. When I finally heard the water in the bathroom running for a while I would hurry over and tell my mom that it was fine, I was actually feeling ok. She knew better than to let me off that easy though and would tell me to start getting undressed. Refusal to do that would end in a spanking or the threat of more enemas, but even being naked with the bag filling up I would still try and convince her I didn't need one. Finally she'd direct me on my back or over her knee. If I was really being stubborn sometimes a struggle would ensue and she'd have to enlist help from another family member to hold me down. Only when she lubed me up and slid the child retention nozzle in I knew all my options had run out. Then with the inflating of that little balloon it really sank in that it was all out of my control.

I remember having all those feelings one particular time before having a suppository when I was about four. I was standing by my mom's bed, sobbing, as she knelt in front of me, feverishly unbuttoning my shorts and pulling them down to my ankles followed by my undershorts. Then she then suddenly remembered that she had forgotten the Vaseline which was down in the kitchen. "Don't you dare go away!" she ordered "I'll be right back!" and without any further ado she rushed downstairs as though the house was on fire! She was wearing a red and white flowery silk dress and I remember the wondeful rustling noise it made. So there I was, standing there half naked, looking through tear filled eyes at an open box of childrens glycerin suppositories and how they were all lined up in a row ready fo use on me. I remember touching one of them and how jelly like and slippery it felt as the heat from my finger melted the glycerin. The last thing I truly remember from that day was starting to cry as I heard that rustling noise again as she rushed back up the stairs with the Vaseline to finish her mission.

I actually like to watch the reaction while I am filling a bag. The anxious licking of the lips or the quick blush on the face as she knows what will soon be happening. It is a very fun moment in enema history!

I remember many Fridays when I was in grade school and junior high, when I would be distracted all day thinking about being over mom's lap after school for my weekly enema. I knew that as soon as I got home, she would tell me not to go outside because she wanted to give me my "weekly clean-out".

I had many erections during those days in anticipation of that afternoon/evening's treatments.

I certainly was an analy horny young boy!

I mentioned in othe thread how my young enema involved Ivory Snow being dissolved in white metal pot of water heated on the stove and I would have to wait till it cooled enough to given as an enema. I would only have T-shirt on. Now here the thing - I remember feeling very exposed, and looking down and I saw that penis had shrunk to almost nothing! It was a strange feeling. As a result, I might be why today I never get hard when given an enema or even when anyone does things to me anally, despite that I'm enjoying it while it's done today.

Waiting time could be different for many reasons. Usually A doctors visit was in the morning or early afternoon. In those cases Once home If I knew I was getting an enema I would try not to be in my room or on the main floor. I would retreat to the basement to watch tv and take my mind off things not that it changed the outcome. I had done the bedroom wait before hearing the linen closet open pans rattling in the kitchen moms phone calls telling any number of friends or relatives she could about the day's upcoming event like it was nothing?

I only ever remember one night time event and I think it was due to a late afterschool appointment when it was decided enema before bed. I put up enough grief and the nozzle came out and the bag leaked all over the floor. Sentence reprieved until the morning. Little did I know to the next day mom would enlist my aunts help with keeping me still. A story that I have mentioned in other threads somewhere.

Then there was the short wait usually with a fleet be it regular or oil one. The few regular or child ones I got I seem to think they were the first ones I got and almost as soon as home it was into the bathroom and they were over. Even the few mineral oil ones were done without much delay or at least planned delay. The first two oil ones are also a part of another story but the delay was caused by a classmate and her mother stopped by just before I was to get it. So unplanned that mom answered the front door box in hand and invited them in. she had them sit in the living room like they were there for tea.Box now out of hand but sitting on the coffee table as a reminder of what was to come. The mother was a part time teacher at school and had heard and almost definitely saw the exam as well as her daughter and friend. They offered to bring home school work if I was not going on Monday but mom assured them I would be back to normal by then..

All of the few of many different situations described above of waiting time have the same feelings just to different types of degree due to outside interference . They all start with the decision and you have no control really as to the outcome. They no matter what one you pick that nervous anticipation depending on where the wait fits in all come full circle and were just part of growing up in I guess for the most part the 1970'S

I wish I had a retention nozzle. At my age it really is hard to hold an enema for any length of time. I remember the retention balloons from my episode with a barium enema. That balloon was something else !!!! Thick walled . And when it was inflated it REALLY stretched my rectum. Pressed against my prostrate too!!!! And at least for a few minutes I have an erection. I don't know how long it took to fill my entire large intestine, but it wasn't very long. And they really filled it! Without that balloon I am sure I would have lost it. I was very uncomfortable

Waiting time for getting an enema from mom varied from an hour or more to none. The longest was probably when during dinner mom noticed I was not hungry and after a few questions to determine the likely cause she would say something like, "After I clean up the kitchen I will give you a small enema." "That should make you feel better." The shortest would be no advance notice when she had previously decided I needed an enema and would have already prepared for it in the bathroom, then she would tell me, "I think an enema would do you good." "Please come to the bathroom with me."

In either case, I would protest a little but knew full well that once she decided I needed an enema, I was getting one. I remember one time when she thought I was constipated but I had recently gone poop, I told her so but she just said, "An enema when you don't need it won't hurt you so it is good insurance. I really didn't mind because I liked those enemas so I didn't try to talk her out of it.

I've always had something to do during that time.

Between getting the bed ready, getting the enema itself ready and getting myself ready I'm always somewhat busy during the "dead" time.

Never had time to let it get into my psyche.

Yes waiting time knowing it was coming was common for me. Mother would usually make the announcement early in the morning when i came downstairs, often after taking my temp. She would tell me to go sit in the den and watch TV, my mind would be swirling knowing she would soon be coming and take me by the hand to her bathroom. My tummy would have butterflies and would be doing flips knowing what was going to happen. I still get those same feelings now when i know i will be getting my enemas

A jumble of fear, humiliation and excitement. Mom never announced that I would be getting an enema. I knew the telltale signs, however. The preparations involved running the bathtub taps and the faucets squeaked. If I heard that from my bed I knew an enema would be given very soon. That set me off worrying and whimpering. When the enema was ready she came to get me and took me to the bathroom. Pleading and crying did not move her. I couldn't look at the hanging enema bag once in the bathroom. Bottoms off, over the lap, Vaseline coated rectal tip inserted, the clamp opened and the ordeal begun. Afterwards, past the initial trauma, I would admit that I felt better.

An alternate scenario was being told that my temperature was to be taken. I'd dutifully turn onto my stomach and lower my underpants to my knees for the the insertion. If, after the thermometer was inserted, mom removed my underwear I knew that an enema was next and that she would be preparing the solution while the thermometer registered.

Being sick in bed during my husband'a favorite Green Bay Packers football game brings back a memory of a few years ago. That was what we fondly remember as my "half-time enema." I was feeling lousy with a headache and bloated. I asked if Rob could give me an enema, and he said that he would do it during halftime of the game. He sat on the bed with me watching the game during the second quarter before the half and gently stroking my forehead. I never told him how wet I was getting in anticipation, so much so that we started making out. I don't remember much about the enema, but I sure do about the anticipation.

Dread, a little terror even and also excitement. I was "going to get it!" And, get it I did. She was no believer in half measures.

Others speak of butterflies and I'd add weak knees.

I felt the same if one of my siblings was on the receiving end, although not so much dread or terror. I did feel a little sorry for them. It was excitement, anticipation that was the main feeling.

Same when, mostly at night when she thought I was asleep, I'd hear mom getting herself an enema ready in the bathroom next to my bedroom. No feeling sorry or dread at all. It was like every nerve fibre in my body was alive. I'd be lying so quiet, straining to hear everything I'd almost forget to breathe.

The waiting time was anxiety for me, but once I new it was going to happen, resistance was futile. Sometimes, it would be announced, your getting to get an enema, go to room and get ready or I will call you in the bathroom when I am ready. I remember on a number of occasions having a rectal temp done as younger child in the kitchen, over the knee with pjs or undies and pants to the ankles, then the announcement, your getting an enema. I would often say “No enema” please but the response would be, I said your getting an enema, do you want a spanking first. You will get the enema anyways. This always raised the anxiety level and the submission and acceptance when it just about to happen would set in. I remember it seemed like a lot of soapy water going in. The cramps were of course unpleasant. Sometimes it took a while to poop the enema and poop out and I would think I was done and had to go again. That was frustrating.

When I got into puberty, the enema announcement caused to worry would I get hard, would it be noticed that my penis had gotten bigger and was growing pubic hair. This was harder with anxiety and emotion but acceptance did occur and after the enema was over and i had emptied out, I often masturbated. I am not sure if I understand the connection there was pleasure from them. The good part was that once I started into puberty the enemas became less frequent.

Remember this was the late 50s in the 60s when this was happening in our household. Enemas, rectal temps, etc. were still pretty a standard in many households.