Enema Mine, a Fleeting Moment

   Enemas. They've been around since... hmm. I should look this one up.

In other contexts, enemas are used by some alternative health therapies, used for enjoyment, chiefly as part of sexual activities, but also in sadomasochism, as well as simply for pleasure, used to intoxicate with alcohol, used to administer drugs for both recreational and religious reasons, and used for punishment.

No. I did not need to be reminded of this. Some people engage in odd romps. That's fine. Keep your pursed back door and tossed salad to yourself.

None of this has anything to do with the actual topic at hand. One more time:

  Enemas. They have been around since antiquity. The first mention of them in medical literature is in the Ancient Egyptian Ebers Papyrus (c. 1550 BCE).  We have evolved the procedure since the mid 1900's. Today, you can purchase a Fleet kit without ever having to worry about those bladder-sized bags and massive tubing.

Personally, I have not had an enema in decades. Until now. Because I have to take pills twice a day that give me constipation - instead of taking one pill only when I have extreme pain. Whatever. 

Things were getting urgent. I had swallow my pride.

"I need you to go to Walgreens and pick up an enema kit," I poked at Better Half to wake him this morning.

He mumbled something about waking up.

I return a half hour later and find him asleep.

"Go to Walgreens. I'm in pain!"

"Pain" was putting it mildly. Six days without pooping. I imagined things were unhappily sitting in the sigmoid because things at the end were impacted. Everything in my digestive system was screaming at me.

He returned with a six-pack of Fleet. Awesome! Let the party begin!

It isn't rocket science. "Insert in proper hole and squeeze."

And that's where I run aground.

There are several positions available for thrill-seekers. None of the positions will work for me for self-administration. Fat ass aside, my spinal nightmare won't allow a full range of motion. Ain't no way that tube is gonna find its mark.

I did my best to get the job done. A little Kama Sutra, yeah? Heck, I was trying positions that probably never occurred to the Puruṣārtha.

Five minute pass. Then ten. I would know. I could observe the clock while rolling around in the Dying Turtle position. There is only one way this enema was going to happen: Suck up my insecurities and ask better half to administer it. 

I need to mention a sad fact: I have parcopresis. It started in childhood (thanks, Mom). It manifests as an overwhelming fear of being judged by others - or offending them - because of the sounds or smells associated with defecation. I can't poop in public unless it is a potty emergency. I won't allow any member of my family into the bathroom if I'm peeing because I might also need to poop. Unless they're in the shower. They can't hear me over the water spray, and can't smell me because their nose is being assaulted by their own soapy smells.

Getting back to this digusting story.

...it was time to suck up my insecurities.

I shuffle off to ask for help, wincing all the while. He finds the situation humorous but willing to do the deed. "We're married," he said as I press my forehead against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, assuring me.

The actual enema was painless and took only moments.The flood gates opened five minutes later.

And yes, I did draft this entry while doing the deed. "Treat every toot as a shart because it probably is a shart."