My childhood experience with enemas did not revolve around irregularity or constipation; instead, it was always related to my behavior and mood. Whenever I had a tummy ache, mother would trace it back to stress I might have experienced earlier in he day. If I complained that I wasn't well enough to go to school, it was because I wasn't ready for some vent that would happen that day. If I had an argument or disagreement with a friend during playtime, mother would say I needed to relax and calm down. Her cure for all of these situations: a gentle back rub and body massage followed by one, maybe two nice warm soapy high enemas, given very slowly and intimately. Her goal was to get me relaxed and ready to release all my fears and inhibitions. She would often say the best way to accomplish that was for me to turn over all control of my body to her as she ministered to me.
I was always a rather frail, timid "mommy's boy" who always did what mother said was best. Every enema she gave me was a pleasant experience. At first, I had to learn to relax enough to avoid cramps, but with her expert coaching (I.e., pant like a puppy), I soon was able to overcome any discomfort, from the nozzle penetration to getting that last bit of water into cecum.
This went on for all the years I lived at home ( age 1😎, and from time to time when I would visit.