When I was about 13 years old, I had to enter the
hospital for a diagnostic test. My parents were
instructed to "prepare" me before bringing me to the
hospital. My parents knew that I would be
uncooperative, so they decided that they wouldn't tell
me anything in advance.
I sensed that something awful was about to happen, so
I decided to run away from home. I got as far as the
abandoned shack across the street from our house. It
got dark. There wasn't anything to eat, and there
were bugs. I realized that I was defeated, so I
returned home to await my fate.
My "preparation" consisted of several enemas and some
caster oil. Because I returned home late, my parents
were unable to keep to the timetable prescribed by the
hospital. The next morning, my parents drove me to
the hospital. They told the hospital that they were
unable to keep to the timetable. They also told the
hospital that I would be uncooperative. The hospital
didn't want to take any chances, so they decided to
clean me out all over again.
Every time a nurse entered my room, there was a major
battle. It took several people to hold me down so
that the enema could be forcibly administered.
Because I struggled, the enema was not sufficiently
I wasn't allowed to eat anything. Some of the other
patients suggested that I was being prepared for
surgery. I was ready to run out of the hospital in my
pajamas, but the nurses were always watching me.
On the day before the "big event", someone on the
hospital staff decided to use a different approach
with me. They sent to my room their youngest,
prettiest, student nurse. She couldn't have been a
day over 18. I still remember her pink uniform. She
was very petite and was not accompanied by the usual
army of warriors.
She talked to me a long time. she put her hands under
the blankets and started massaging me. She was the
first person in the hospital who was nice to me. She
asked me to follow her into another room. I followed
her out of curiosity and fascination.
The other room had a regular bed with blankets and
pillows instead of a hard examining table. The lights
were turned out except for a small lamp. She put me
in the bed and continued to talk to me and massage me.
I was amazed at her ability to insert the enema nozzle
into me without interrupting her conversation. This
time, I didn't struggle. The enema was highly
effective. I barely made it to the toilet before my
bowels exploded. I learned in that moment that a
pretty girl can do anything to me. Even something as
personal as my bowel movements would not be under my
The next morning, my student nurse escorted me to the
X-ray department. This was a dark room with a hard
examining table and some scary equipment hanging from
the ceiling. We were met by 2 older nurses. They put
me on the hard examining table. My student nurse
continued to reassure me while the other 2 nurses were
huddled over a blender. They were mixing some kind of
white sludge. I saw them pour it into the largest
enema bag I have ever seen.
I was about to receive a barium enema. When
everything was ready, the radiologist came into the
room. He was wearing divers goggles over his eyes.
The goggles had red lenses to help him see the faint
images from the X-ray machine.
The exam only took a minute. I was then ushered into
a small bathroom. A heavy door was slammed shut in
front of me. There were several enema bags hanging on
the inside of the door. As the door closed, the
enema tubes began to sway back and forth. It was
hypnotic. I still refer to it as the "Ballet of the
enema tubes". I thought they were mocking me.
After I left the hospital, I never needed to have
another enema. Somehow, I didn't quite understand
that. I thought the choice was between me controlling
the enemas or someone else being in control. Although
I wanted another visit from my student nurse, I knew
this wouldn't happen. I started giving myself enemas
and have been doing it ever since.