I have always had a sensitive gut. As a child in the 50's and 60's they said I had a 'spastic colon' which caused frequent bouts of pain and bloating which, in turn, caused frequent appointments in the bathroom with my mother or aunt - and me bent over the bathtub with a big red enema bag emptying into my backside. As I grew through my teen years into adulthood, the episodes got less frequent and I thought I was cured. After age 15 there were no more enemas from mother or aunts.
My bride hates even the thought of enemas and over the years has only very reluctantly assisted me with an occasional enema. Never any encouragement, no nozzle insertion, no 'just a little more.' Everything is grudgingly clinical with no hint of fun or eroticism. She thinks my upbringing with frequent enemas was barbaric - even though her mother revealed to me during a
conversation about a bowel prep she was undergoing that she gave her daughter plenty of enemas right up until high school!
Nowadays that 'spastic colon' has become IBS and it still causes occasional episodes of pain and distress in the lower gut. Muscle relaxants, pain medication, massage, diet changes, and meditation all have failed to produce a cure for me. The one thing that does provide relief is a couple of good, warm, baking soda enemas which seem to calm the bowel. My doctor says that SHOULDN'T work, but for me, it DOES.
I do have a problem, however, taking more than a pint of water or so when I self-administer. Scars and adhesions in the lower bowel, combined with spasms which 'freeze' the colon make taking an enema very difficult. My reluctant bride will help if asked, but her help has always come with a lot of 'attitude.'
A few days ago I woke up feeling those old familiar symptoms and all through the work day they got worse. I arrived home before my bride and was shortly in the bathroom filling the big old red combination bag with baking soda and warm water. She soon arrived home and found me on the bed in the Sims position, hose in my butt, bag only slightly empty.
She said, "Oh no, not THIS again!"
I replied, "Yup, I thought it better to catch it early rather than let it become a big issue."
She then said, "How is it going? Do you want my help?"
I thought to myself, "Holy crap is this really my bride ASKING if she can help give me an enema??"
Before she could change her mind, I agreed and said the bag was nearly at a standstill and I could barely get any more in.
She then told me to refill the bag and we would start over! Not wanting to lose this golden opportunity, I refilled the syringe with solution and then syphoned about another half-quart of water into the bag making it bulge like a balloon. I brought the bag back to her in the bedroom.
After again hanging the bag next to the bed, and lubing the rectal nozzle, SHE actually inserted it as I lay on my left side. OMG! She started the flow and after a pint, I could take no more. I fled to the toilet to release.
When I returned my bride said, "what you are doing isn't working and maybe you should try a different position."
She then said, "Get up on your hands and knees and we'll try it that way. That should work better." I happily agreed, but wondered where she had heard of the knee-chest position.
She again inserted the nozzle and opened the clip, but since nobody was holding the nozzle in place it shot out and squirted the bed!
She then asked, "Don't you have some tube-thingy that you use for some of your enemas?"
I replied that I had a rectal catheter that helped get the water in deeper, but it had to be inserted slowly as the solution was flowing - and had a real tendency to slip out if not held in place.
She said, "OK, we'll try it, cause this still isn't working!"
Long story short, after topping off the bag and adding a 16 inch colon tube to the hose, I was again in the knee-chest position with her inserting the lubed tube into my butt. After opening the clamp, she slowly introduced more of the tube into my bottom - often having to withdraw it a bit and then inserting it further until it was in as far as the connector. The in-out was GREAT!
Her fingers holding the hose against my pucker was also heavenly!
Too soon, the suck at the red bag announced it was empty. It was one of the fastest fills I have experienced and over way too fast! She withdrew the colon tube excruciatingly slowly and I left to empty. She followed me into the bathroom - which she NEVER does - and started mixing baking soda and warm water in a cup.
She said, "One is never enough to do the job, is it??"
She even asked how I got the bag so fat, after she had it filled to the brim, so I showed her how to syphon in a bit more water to overfill the bag.
She smiled and said, "I'm glad my mother didn't know that trick! She always insisted an enema was good to the last drop and you had to take it all! Mom started me off with about half a bag, but pretty soon the bag was always full."
I said, "I thought you never had enemas! Now I find out your mother gave you enemas as well! I wondered where you came up with that bottoms-up position!"
She said, "All my enemas, and there were NOT that many, were on my knees, bent over the tub once I was old enough. That way the water gets in higher - or that is what my mom said. I really hated them!"
I said, "They were probably given too fast, or the bag was too high. All the enemas you give me are much slower and more gentle."
She said, "Well, that is nice to hear, but the water is getting cold and it is time for your next one."
That led to a third bag full, since three seems to be the magic number of enemas for me. I was very clear by then. Later that day, after my gut calmed down, I asked her to come help me again upstairs.
She moaned, "Not ANOTHER enema!" I pointed to the obvious bulge in my pants and she said, "I see you are feeling much better!"
Much later, after a very satisfying afternoon in bed for both of us she said, "Maybe you need an enema more often! I think I can arrange that!"
I certainly can hope!!