A Friendship Changes

We had seen each other off and on since we stopped working together a few years ago. She was about my age and a hard worker and it was always pretty easy to talk to her. Sometimes we would see each other in the store or talk to each other in a text message or two here and there and it was always good to talk to her. She was married and so was I and whenever we talked always caught up things.

One day, at my office, she told me that she was going to be going in for a colonoscopy the day after tomorrow and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She had a history of polyps and so had to have one every year or so as a follow up until they could be fairly comfortable that she didn’t have any more. This was her third year having to have one and said that maybe she could skip a year or two but it all depended on what the outcome was. She asked me if I had ever had a colonoscopy. I told her I had not had one yet and it was mainly because of that crap you had to drink and that it made you sick as hell you had to basically take a day off to get it all done.

“That’s dumb as fuck,” she said. I was a little surprised about that and she wasn’t done talking, “If you don’t get checked you are running the risk of getting colon cancer. You don’t want that.”

I knew all of this and the thought of drinking all that crap was a big kicker for me. She told me that her first colonoscopy she had to drink that stuff and yes drinking it could, “… make you shit through a key hole at fifty feet!” That was a pretty good laugh and then she told me that there were pills you could take or ask for an alternative or something. I put up the usual lame assed excuses about not wanting to be close to a stool all damn day or shitting my guts out and on and on and on.

Well this pissed her off because she was talking to one of the dumbest people on the planet and she said, “You know, you can have an enema or two before you start all of that medicine to kind of clear out the way and have less to shit. You do know what enemas are, don’t ya? You have had them before haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I know what enemas are. I do them whenever I can.” I think we both looked pretty damned shocked at what came out of my mouth just then.

“Do you like them, too?” she asked. I think she had a look on her face when she asked me that like, “… did I say ‘too’?”

Too? Did she say, too? The look on her face was one of whether or not she should die right there or hope I hadn’t heard her say, ‘too.’ She was thinking she may have crossed the line and then again we both had just said things we weren’t too sure about.

I looked at her and thought that since I had already opened my mouth, I would just change feet, “Yes. I like them, too.” We both had looks on our faces that said, “Oh wow!”

Now we were both curious as hell about to what extent we both liked enemas. The door had been opened. Both of us sitting there going, “No shit, I thought I was the only one who liked enemas.”

We both took a deep breath and then dropped our guard completely and began to talk about how we came to like enemas. The more we talked the more we found out about each other and that we more than ‘liked’ enemas. We both pretty much kept our love of enemas from our spouses. She asked me if my wife knew I liked enemas or ever knew I had taken them. I told her about one time when I really did have a problem with being stopped up and had gone to the doctor about it. I had told my wife that the doctor prescribed three enemas for me and that I basically lied about that just so I could do something to clean my ass out and not take those damn laxatives. I told her my wife was in no way a fan of the enema or anything else back there and was kind of a prude in that way.

She laughed at that and I asked her about her if her husband knew about her love of enemas. “No, but us women have a little more space to be able to pull off those things without catching hell or what-the-fuck-ever.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well,” she started, “he knows I had to have those polyps removed and that part of it might have been because I’ve always had problems with constipation – periods and all that ‘female stuff’ and so it was easy for me to become a little more open about my taking an enema.”

“Lucky,” I said.

“You betcha,” she laughed. “Us women can get away with anything.” And she gave me a wink. “He thinks it is gross and won’t talk about it and leaves me alone. I’d really like for him to just talk to me or keep me company but, seeing how he feels, I don’t bother. It would be nice if he would even help or something.”

I must have been sitting there with a dumb look on my face or something because I was getting a hard on just thinking about her having an enema. It was probably one of those silences that could have got awkward and finally I said, “So, you have your colonoscopy the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said, waiting for me to do or say something more. She was looking right at me. I was thinking, it was something crucial about this.

“You said you do some enemas before you start the medicine?”

“Yes,” she said, still looking at me. She could probably hear my mind twirling.

“When will you start?”

“When I leave here.”

“Anything I can do to help?” We were both processing this whole conversation in our minds. It was a lot we had learned about each other in a short time and something that we didn’t really want to let go of just yet. I was hoping she would say yes and that she was trying to think about how to say yes and both of us not wanting to screw up a friendship or our two marriages. Or was I wrong about what she was thinking?

Then I thought to myself, “Oh shit! I fucked this up!” She looked at me and I would have bet she was reading my mind.

I saw her take a deep breath and I thought this was going to be it, I’m going to be apologizing or that was the end of this friendship.

“Yes,” she said and my heart was in my mouth. She looked like she wasn’t done talking and she wasn’t going to make me ask her what kind of help, she said, “Would you keep me company?”

I wasn’t sure what she meant and she said, “Maybe we could talk on the phone while I had my enemas, sort of you keep me company while I do them. I’m always nervous before I go in and my husband doesn’t get it.”

I could tell that it bothered her, there is a history of colon cancer in her family, and that she really did want to talk about it – even without her doing enemas.

“I’d be glad to. I’m assuming you mean by phone.”

“For now,” she said. “I’m probably going to have a couple tonight and then some more tomorrow. We could talk or text or both. Do you think you could?”

The texting would be no problem. The talking on the phone might be but I didn’t know and neither did she. It all depended on where our spouses were and all of that jazz.

Then we got to talking about the how we would do this and what would need to be done so she could have her enemas and talk at the same time.

“Do you want me to have an enema while you do yours? If I can?” I asked her. “I’m not sure I could get my stuff and have the privacy.”

“I would like that,” she smiled, “and thanks for offering, but I know it would be hard. If you could just talk to me or text me when I am having the enemas, I would really like that.”

“No problem,” I smiled back at her. “I am looking forward to talking to you.”

“Me, too,” she said still smiling but sort of tearing up. “This always bothers me.”

“How will I know when to call or text?”

“I’ll text you. If you can talk, then I’ll call you. If you can’t, then we will by text – if you can,” she told me and she really seemed glad that we were going to be talking when she had her enemas.

She got up to go and so met her and we hugged. As we hugged I told her everything was going to be alright and she said it had been ok the last couple of times. She was just worried. We held that hug and finally let go and there were tears in her eyes.

She got to the door and was ready to open it to go when she said, “Hopefully the next time we talk tonight I will be having my enema and getting closer to getting this shit done.”

“Could you maybe wait to start your enema until after we can talk?” I asked her and she had kind of a quizzical look on her face. “Yeah. I don’t know why I asked that but, hell, I’d just like to be there when you are just about to start.”

She gave me a wink and a smile and said, “I know what you mean. I won’t put it in until I see if we can talk.”

Another hug before she left, and suddenly I had something to look forward to tonight. Dirty dog that I am, I did look at her ass as she walked down the steps. We knew it could be something special about to begin.