My aunt who was an RN had two daughters who were into enemas, apparently as their mom was: they thought nothing of giving and receiving them.
My first lover was an RN. The third time that we made love that night, she had me give her an enema: she was shocked when I asked her to reciprocate. Enemas were a part of our love play for the months that we were together.
The hospital that I worked at as an Operating Room Technician kept me very busy, but occasionally on night shifts, there was nothing to do after I'd finished cleaning and restocking ORs, so I'd go up to the medical/surgical floors to help out. I met a RN one night after assisting a spinal tap who asked me if I'd assist her, and was taken to an empty patient room where she had the old 2-quart red rubber enema bag that the hospital previously used (but gave up in favor if plastic enema buckets), filled with hot, soapy water, hanging from an IV pole: she asked me to give her the enema (and one to clear 30 minutes later) without offering an explanation: I later married her, and enemas were also a part of our love-play. Several other nurses I met at the hospital used enemas as a part of their intense enjoyment of vaginal and rectal intercourse, or a tool used in masturbation.
Hospitalized several years ago following a devastating back injury, the pain meds that I was given stopped peristaltic motion, and despite all attempts to restart the plumbing, I had to be given enemas. Without asking me if I'd ever had them before, she told me that she used them all the time as she began giving mine.
Following my second spine surgery, I had been given so many different types of pain meds that once again, an enema was prescribed and the RN who carried out the procedure, a consummate professional, talked with me as she did her work. I was extremely weak and had spent a week in ICU before going to a regular surgical floor: holding an enema was a herculean task for me and we had a lot of false starts. She came up with a number of creative solutions that made receiving and retaining the enema possible, and if I hadn't been so weak, I would have realized then that she had more than a professional interest in enemas. Her questions made it obvious even then to me that this was more than small-talk, and she enjoyed what she was doing with me, and I might add, to me. A CT scan at the hospital at 6 months post-surgery gave me the opportunity to stop by the hospital's surgical floor and my "angel" RN was there. I stopped in to say hello to the crew that nursed me back to health and express my appreciation in a tangible way. As I said goodbye to them all, my angel walked me over to the elevator. "Any time you need an enema," she winked at me and said "just give me a call."