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Date Posted: Thursday, March 14, 2013, 03:16: pm
My mother used rectal temps to keep me still while she prepared my enema whenever I was sick. She would come in to the bedroom with the thermometer and the Vaseline and make me pull down my pajama bottoms and lie still with my legs apart.
In went the glass rod and the admonition not to move while it was inserted. Then she went into the bathroom where I could hear the water running and the enema bag being filled.
When the prepartions were complete she returned to my bed to read the thermometer. Before she pulled it out she would take off my bottoms so I would be bare from the waist down.
After noting the temperature she would lead me to the bathroom where I would be greated by the sight of the filled enema bag hanging from the towel bar, its hose draped in the sink. The open Vaseling jar on the side of the sink.
Protested ignored I would be draped over her lap, my butt held open by her fingers and the lubed nozzle inserted. Then the sharp click of the metal clamp to start the flow of the soapy warm water. Further objections ignored, I had to take what she prepared for me. Fortunately she understood my capacity and only tested it slightly ever time I got an enema. I never knew how much volume I got when I was younger, but by the time I was twelve I could take a full bag, if not the first time, then for my subsequent, daily while sick, enemas.
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