The best way to illustrate enemas during the mid 20th century is from
My mom and dad are grew up getting enemas as a child and during
their teens. Anyway, needless to say, she continued the tradition. Every Tuesday
and Saturday the three of us, younger sister, older brother, and me, were naked
and standing in line for our cleanouts. It was till HS graduation for each. My
sis and I were o k with it most of the time, the alternative was a session with
the switch to calm one down, but my bro usually ended up over mommy's lap at
least once a week. Wow, he hated getting an enema.
I grew up in the 60s when most kids got enemas. My mother was
good friends with the moms of several of my friends. They would talk daily and
if any of us were sick everyone knew the details. This included if I was about
to get an enema or if she had given me one earlier. All of the friends also knew
what had happened to whom, too. Even though we all knew it was still
embarrassing to hear one half of the phone conversations, especially once we hit
Observing others getting enemas in our household, when I was a
child, in 50's-60's, was pretty commonplace.
During the summer, mom liked to administer the enemas
out-of-doors, near the outdoor privy (we had both indoor and outdoor
facilities). Mom would announce that "today is enema day" and we had to be ready
(that meant being naked) when she called. If we were going to have an outdoor
enema, my brothers would simply undress by the privy (in the summer, often
they'd often wear nothing more than gym shorts) while us girls would get
undressed in the house, don a robe, then meet mom by the privy where we'd hang
the robe on a hook on the two-holer building.
Sometimes when mom had a real production line going for the five
of us getting enemas, I'd end up sitting next to my brother expelling. We didn't
think anything of that situation, even when we were in high school.
Our indoor bathroom was quite small so mom gave enemas in the
kitchen and we'd take our turns expelling.
When I was 12 years old, I had the most embarrassing experience
of my life up to that time. It was summer and there had been an illness going
around our neighborhood. We and the Benderís, another family in the
neighborhood, had the same family doctor. I had come down with whatever was
going around and so had the two Bender children. Cathy and Tom, 11 and 13, which
resulted in back to back appointments. My mother and I were called in first and
at the end of my examination the doctor gave my mother two prescriptions and
also prescribed an enema for me when we got home. As we were leaving the office
the Benders were taken in. We walked about two blocks to a pharmacy to get the
prescriptions filled. And while we were waiting for them the Benders came in to
get prescriptions filled. As we waited Mrs. Bender told my mother that she
needed to give her two children enemas and that she didnít have an enema bag at
home and would need to buy one but wasnít sure what to get. My mother offered to
help her select one and she ended up selecting an open top Duvol bag
After completing our purchases we all rode home together on the
bus. As we went Mrs. Bender confided to my mother that she had never given an
enema or taken one herself. She said that she had been given several by her
mother when she was quite young but didnít know how to give one. My mother told
her that the doctor had ordered a soap suds enema for me and she needed to give
it to me and follow it up with a rinse enema, Mrs. Bender said that she had been
advised to do the same thing, give soapsuds enemas. Much to my distress my
mother invited her come over and observe her giving the enema to me and, adding
to that distress, she suggested that after I had the first enema that she, Mrs.
Bender, could give me a second enema because she needed the experience before
she gave them to her children and that another enema would be needed to clear
any residual soap out of me, then after my enemas she would go with her and help
her give her children their enemas
Shortly after my mother and I arrived home Mrs. Bender came to
the house and she and my mother took me into the bathroom. I was told to
completely undress and sit on the closed toilet while my mother showed Mrs.
Bender how my enema was prepared. A bar of Ivory soap was put into the bag and
it was filled a little, then the top rolled over and the bag was shaken
vigorously then opened and filled with more water allowing the bar of soap to
remain floating in the bag. It was then hung from a towel rod and I was told to
get onto the floor mat on my back and pull my legs up and back exposing myself.
I was so embarrassed and felt so ashamed to have Mrs. Bender see all of me. I
knew what was going to happen regardless of my pleas for privacy and not to have
the enema, bit I also knew that it could not be avoided. Like all the enemas my
mother gave me, it would be painful and relentlessly given with the bag hung
high resulting in too much pressure, and with the bar of soap remaining in the
bag, very, very soapy. As I lay there on my back my mother and Mrs. Bender knelt
on the floor beside me and mother had her hold my legs back and look closely as
she lubricated, first the outside and then inside of my anus with her finger,
and then the enema nozzle. Then she pushed the nozzle into me and opened the
clamp. When the enema started flowing I yelled that I didnít want an enema and
reached down and pulled the nozzle out. Enema sprayed everywhere, all over my
mother, Mrs. Bender and the bathroom. My mother closed the clamp and then
spanked the daylights out of me. Even though I already had some enema in me, the
bag was refilled because my mother said that I hadnít had much to start with and
I had wasted a lot of the enema and I would be taking it all.. The nozzle was
put back in and she ask Mrs. Bender to hold it in me while she held my hands so
I couldnít pull it out again. As was typical of all the enemas my mother gave
and took herself once started they werenít stopped until it was all in
regardless of how much it hurt and I cried, begged and pleaded for it to stop.
Finally the bag emptied and I was put on the toilet
With the exception of no soap, the enema Mrs. Bender gave me
followed the same procedure as the one my mother gave me, the bag was re-hung
from the high towel rod, I was placed on the bathroom floor on my back and my
legs pulled up and back, the nozzle was put into me and the clamp opened, and
the flow continued till the bag emptied. When it was over we all went to the
Bender house because I couldnít be left home alone, and the enemas were given to
the two children. I didnít see what was done but from the crying and begging I
heard coming from the bathroom it could not have been any different than what
happened to me
Afterwards I was red with embarrassment every time I saw Mrs.
Bender and did everything I could to avoid her.
Enemas were no secret in our household in the 1950s and early
1960s ... and often, when one got an enema, we all, 3 brothers and 2 sisters,
got an enema. Mom felt that was a good way to keep one siblings from giggling
about what happened to the other.
I sometimes wonder if she didn't like the "production-line"
style of administering enemas ... everyone undressed in the kitchen of our farm
house where she usually had a huge bucket of water, enough for the first round
of enemas for all of us.
When we were finished taking the first soapy enema, usually a
quart or so, we could either use the indoor bathroom or run to the outdoor
privy. there was something thrilling about running naked from the house to the
two-holer, about 40 yards.
Mom usually administered two rounds of soapy enemas, two rounds
of clear water rinses. We expelled the second clean water enema in the bathroom
in the house and if mom felt it was clear enough, we were excused. If not, we
While maybe there was some discomfort about taking an enema in a
group, none of use were uncomfortable with being naked in front of each other.
We often went skinny dipping in the river on our farm (even through high
school), and we had a shower behind the house that was used often during the
summer. We did a lot of work in the field and mom would not let us eat supper
until we had washed off all the field dust and grime.
All in all, we had a very good life on the farm. I miss it. I
wish my kids had had a chance to grow up in the same lifestyle I did. I loved
returning home for the summer during college ... nothing changed, and that was
I am a 'war-baby' (born in 1944), and did get a generous
allotment of enemas from Mum until I left home at 18. A thought occurred to me
while I was reading the following posts, and that is this: At that time
(1944-1950), antibiotics were just becoming available; a lot of the medical
research had been 'pushed' by the war effort, Fleming's discovery of penicillin
was still very new, for example. So the emphasis for home care remedies was on
more 'natural' methods; because the option of getting a prescription for some
drug or other was not always available, or perhaps couldn't have been afforded.
So if the kid had a fever, cool him down with an enema; it really does work,
ladies and gentlemen. If one had a head cold, use steam to help relieve
congestion. It works. Oh, and, of course, if the kid is constipated, what else?
Two or three enemas should do the trick. Oh, and who can forget the calming
influence of a nice enema? Your kid was being fractious, refused to settle down?
What else. And in the pre-tranquilizer days, enemas were used for their calming
effects (on patients )in mental institutions. I have read that enemas were once
even considered a pain relief therapy, when pain drugs were not readily
Somehow, I believe the side effect of having received many
enemas of becoming enamored of them, is a lot safer alternative to being hooked
on assorted cold remedies with their unknown potential side effects, assorted
psychotropic drugs for depression (some of which precipitate suicide, ironically
enough), and having to suffer from laxatives.
As one doctor (whose name I cannot remember) once put it when
asked why an enema rather than a laxative, 'Why bother disrupting the whole 30
feet of digestive tract, when the problem is likely only in the last five feet?'
As for why they seemed to die away as a home remedy, there are a
few obvious reasons. First and foremost in my mind is the withdrawal of support
for it as a treatment option by the family doctor. This was, of course,
encouraged by the pharmaceutical industry, which has a multibillion dollar
business in providing laxatives, and other medicinal cures for constipation.
And, of course, it Is easier to take a pill, than to take time for an enema.
And, of course, the use of the steamer and mustard plasters for
congestion, and the enema for fever reduction, all of which are labor intensive,
while consuming any of the many hundreds of cold remedies is simpler, easier and
faster (and is also another multibillion dollar subdivision of the
So the withdrawal of 'Professional Support' for the enema,
combined with a 'disinclination' to administer enemas to their kids by many Mums
(either because they didn't like doing them, didn't want to do them to their
kids because they didn't like getting them when they were kids, or they were
just too busy/lazy to give them) has led to the reduction in use of them in
It is interesting to note that there were some who persisted
until present time, and I believe that their kids are actually better off
because their Mums did 'carry on the tradition'.
Yes, I suppose there are some Mothers who may 'enjoy' get sexual
gratification out of) giving enemas to their children; but I believe that given
a mother's commitment to their children, the amount of time and care they have
invested in their charges, any choice to administer an enema would normally be
made for a 'legitimate reason', especially if one considers the time commitment
Back in the "good old days," when we lived on the farm where
there was little exposure to the outside world, enemas during the summer were
given by the outhouse which was about 30 yards from the house late Saturday
afternoon. And all us kids got them at the same time, the same way. Mom had her
12-ounce bulb syringe and a 10-quart bucket of soapy water to tend to the three
of use. We were told simply to undress, hang our clothes on the nails on the
side of the outhouse, bend over and take what mom delivered.
Even when Sis and I were in HS, the ritual was just the same ...
and we didn't think anything of it.
We would undress ... she would bend over, hands on her knees,
legs spread, mom would lube the nozzle, insert it the first time very slowly,
and squeeze gently. She repeated this several times, then made my sister stand
for a while as I got my enema the same way. Obviously I watched her as she got
the enema, she watched as I got mine ... and my little sister, two years younger
than me, was always last. Because we had a two-holer, often times my sister and
I ended up sitting side-by-side in the outhouse, expelling.
Mom usually gave a second round of soapy enemas until the water
was all used up, then refilled the bucket with clear water, and administered
two or three rinse enemas.
People today question everyone using the same enema equipment
... back then we had one syringe, plenty of petroleum jelly, and obviously
plenty of water. The enema process for the three of us usually took about an
hour or so.
After supper, usually about 7 p.m., we took our Saturday baths,
also outside, all at the same time, washing each other's backs.
Life was so different, so much more simple back then, and
obviously, a lot more innocent.
Seeing others getting an enema in our family, in 50's, when I
was a child, was not unusual because mom had a rule that if one child was going
to get an enema, we all probably needed an enema. There were four of us ... two
boys and two girls. So we all had to get undressed and were given enemas in the
kitchen and when one was done getting, that person would go to the bathroom to
expel while the enema for the second person was prepared.
Mom didn't believe in big enemas, so we each usually got about a
quart. But we usually got a series of three or four.
Unless someone got very sick and needed an enema immediately,
mom usually scheduled enemas for Saturday mornings and the "event" usually last
about two hours until we all had our turns and mom was satisfied that we were
This routine continued right through high school.
Were we concerned about being naked in front of our siblings?
Not really, because during the summer, we would go skinny
dipping in the river that ran through our farm.
One of the benefits beyond the healthy enemas, was the fact that
when my brother's friends were all getting ga-ga over girls and sneaking looks
at nudie magazines and the like, my brothers just gave a "so what's so great
about that" because they had seen everything already for years.
In 50's, we lived on a farm way out in the country where there
were not too many visitors and, because our house was set well back from the
seldom-traveled road, we had had a lot of privacy.
I can remember, when we were preschool and even in the
pre-teens, on hot summer days, instead of bathing in the hot bathroom, my two
sisters and I would wash up outside, soaping ourselves and then using the garden
hose to rinse.
We didn't feel to self conscious about our bodies because we had
seen each other nude so often, it really didn't seem unusual. However, we didn't
talk about this with our friends because they would always joke about seeing
their brothers or sisters bathing. We thought they were the unusual ones.
We respected each other's privacy as we got older, but even
occasionally when I was in late high school and my sisters would come home from
college, we would go skinny dipping in the river which ran through our property.
One thing about our parents, they treated us equally. When one
person got sick, it seemed that all were considered to be sick and got some sort
This even happened when we got enemas. If anyone was sick or
couldn't go to the bathroom, we all got enemas.
We would go into the kitchen to undress during the winter or we
would do this outside during the summer when it was warm. Mom always said there
was no reason to hide in the house when there was so much wide open space and it
was also cooler outdoors.
When we were very young, we got enemas with the bulb syringe,
but as we got older, we'd receive them from the enema bag which was hung from
the towel rack in the kitchen or from the clothesline outside. We'd all undress
and wait our turn, watching as the other got his or her enema.
My older sister, Jane, confided one time that she sometimes
faked being sick so she would get an enema. I told her that I fantasized about
giving her an enema. We both laughed about that, looking forward to that day.
The last time we got a group enema was during the previous
Christmas holiday. My sisters were both home from college. The oldest, age 22,
said she was getting a stomach ache and it wasn't from any "woman" problem.
"When's the last time you went to the bathroom," mom asked.
"I think it was three days ago," she said.
"I think you need an enema," she said. "Don't you?"
Sis agreed, asking if she should go into the bathroom.
"You're not that old yet, young lady," mom said. "In fact, as
long as we're all here, I think this would be a good time for all of you to get
an enema, don't you?"
We sort of disagreed, but didn't really disagree as mom went to
the bathroom to retrieve the enema syringe and bag. She then mixed up a sink
full of warm water, mixed in a small amount of Ivory soap flakes and said,
"Okay, girls, young man, time to undress."
"Right here?" we protested, half-heartedly, trying to sound like
we didn't want to, but yet didn't want to miss out on this family ritual. We all
sort of stood around the kitchen table and took off our, shoes, socks, shirts
and slacks, getting down quickly to our underwear, then just stood there.
"Oh, just throw your clothes in the basket there and I'll wash
them when we're all done," mom said. "That includes the underwear."
We obediently doffed our underwear, the girls also slipping out
of their bras. Jane had fully developed into woman with full breasted the dipped
just a little, but still showed her full youthful beauty. Sue, 20, had
maintained her "twin peaks" through daily workouts in the gym and playing junior
varsity basketball in college.
"Okay Jane, you're the one who couldn't go, you're first," she
pointed to my older sister who obediently took a kneeling position on a kitchen
chair and leaned over the table, stretching out just a bit with her breasts just
touching the table, causing her nipples to harden. Mom spread her cheeks, spread
a liberal amount of petroleum jelly and then inserted the syringe before lifting
it about a foot or two above my sister's butt.
As the water began to flow, I could see that my sister was
enjoying it, although she fainted a bit of discomfort, but kept moving her body
on the kitchen table. Mom stopped the flow a couple times, but finally emptied
the entire 48 ounces of fluid into her offspring. Jane climbed off the chair and
walked cautiously to the bathroom which was just next to the kitchen.
With that, Sue took her turn. She wanted her enema standing up,
bending over at the waist to allow mom to make the preparations, jumping just a
bit when mom's finger slipped into her butt hole while applying the jelly.
With the nozzle inserted, mom opened the clasp and the liquid
flowed for the second time. Sue liked to take her enemas standing up because
this gave her a change to move he legs a bit if cramps began to come. She would
always do a little dance, sort of on her tiptoes. She had started doing this
when she was about 12 or 13. She said it made her relax, but I think this helped
her enjoy the enema as it flowed into her body.
The liquid flowed into her quite easily and she accepted all the
water in just a couple minutes. Mom said the hold it for a while, then told her
to use the downstairs bathroom because Jane was not yet done. This left only me.
Mom loaded the bag again, telling me to take "the position I wanted." I
preferred to simply bend over, putting my hands on my knees.
With that the jelly was applied and the hose inserted, causing a
warm sensation through my body and causing my penis to become erect. My sisters
always took notice of this when they had their enemas, but never said anything,
believing any comments like this would end our common enema sessions which we
all seemed to enjoy. I was not overly endowed, but it was enough to feel good
when I brushed against the cold edge of the kitchen table.
Just as I was finished taking the last of the water, my sister
came out of the bathroom, allowing me to use this room. I walked by her and she
reached out, grabbing my extended appendage as mom's back was turned. This also
began the second, and sometimes a third round of enemas, these to rinse. Once we
produced a clean flow of water it meant we were cleaned out.
After we were pronounced clean, we would shower and get into
fresh clothes. My sisters said they would continue this ritual if they had
families and asked if I would do the same.
If you went into the hospital for surgery in the 1940s and '50s,
you probably checked in during the late afternoon. You would be shown to your
room, helped as needed to get undressed and into a gown, and into bed. Between
the time you climbed into bed and when they tucked you in for the night, it's
likely that you were given one or more high cleansing enemas.
If you were lucky, the nurses completed your "prep" by visiting
hours (from 7 to 9) or did it afterwards, so you wouldn't be embarrassed when
your spouse and/or best friend popped in, only to be asked to please wait down
the hall. Hopefully, the nurse was discreet. Although my mother (from whom I
learned of her hospital pre-surgery experience years ago), remembered a nurse
telling my dad that he had to wait to see her because "we're giving her an