Going to buy and enema bag with mom

The only thing more embarrassing than having mom call my aunt &* grandmother on the phone to tell them that she had given me an enema that afternoon, was her taking me shopping to buy a new enema bag when I was in grade school.

I don't even recall what had happened to the old one. But, one Saturday morning she and my dad took my brother & I to the Wards department store a few miles away to shop. While my dad & brother were looking for car tires or something, mom took me by the hand to the little "home health" stall next to the escalator on the first floor where a young male clerk in a white coat reviewed the features & benefits of the half dozen enema / fountain syringes in the display case.

Just standing there with mom was embarrassing enough. But, when she began arguing with the man trying to sell her a more expensive appliance than she needed their loud conversation made me cringe! She didn't want the open top, three quart model, didn't need a four pipe nozzle set, or one with the wide neck that doubled as an ice bag. "All I want, she said, is the hot water bottle, enema bag on sale in your catalog, so I can go home and give this boy a "good cleaning out".

The sale completed, mom had me carry the package with the enema bag around while she purchased some material for a dress she was making. Carrying that bag through the store with my mom, knowing how it would be used when we got home, I felt like Jesus carrying the cross up the mount. I was sure everyone in the store knew what was in that package.

As it turned out, it wasn't until early that evening when mom lead me into the bathroom for my enema. It's funny, but I don't recall much about getting that one. But I sure remember shopping with mom for that bag.

I can absolutely relate to your experience!

I previously related in another post on Zity that I contracted pinworms while at summer camp when I was 15 and confessed to my mother that I had worms. This led to a trip to the doctor and a prescription for some truly horrible tablets and a treatment slip from the doctor.

The prescribed treatment was: "Soapsuds enema before bedtime for three days following each Pyrantel tablet. Continue for three weeks until medication is finished. Examine stools daily and return to the office if still present after third week."

On the way home we stopped at the pharmacy and got the prescription filled and while we waited my mother perused the assortment of enema bags and fountain syringes until she settled on a new Rexall Victoria fountain syringe. So here I was, with my mother, in the local drug store getting worm medicine and an enema bag! Of course my mother made no effort to conceal the distinctive orange and black pasteboard box as we retrieved the prescription and made our way to the register.

The pharmacist's wife was the cashier on duty and she and my 'way too talkative' mother shared a conversation about the trials of having a 15 year old boy with worms and how she was afraid everyone else in the house would get them, and how uncooperative I would be with the prescribed enemas! The woman agreed and wished us luck as we left.

Embarrassed? You bet I was!

I would want to run and hide! Would probably have resisted the enema .

There would not be a hole deep enough if that everr happened to me!!

One way to mitigate some of the embarrassment is to keep your in-store conversation such that any interlopers are not really sure which one of you it's for.