The good old days (not quite)

So my mom is still feeling terrible and her colonoscopy is schedule for 2 weeks from now. (Friday the 13th!) Anyways, we were talking about the prep for the test, which involves enemas (and drinking a lot of nasty-tasting stuff.) I reminded her that she had given me enemas when I was a little kid.

She remembered the story. I was three or four. She said I had not had a bowel movement in a few days. (It was actually more like a week. I remember with dread as each day passed and nothing came out. I was too little to be able to tell time or read a calendar, but I remember begging my mom to give me another day or two.) My tummy hurt really bad and finally I gave in.

Maybe if Mom and Dad had bought me an enema stuffed toy it would have made the experience more fun. Photo: http://kookykitsch.com/

Dad was given the exciting duty of going and buying the Fleet enema. I remember the green and white box it came in. I remember being in the bathroom and freaking out a bit. Finally, Mom got the dirty business done and I was ushered immediately to the toilet. I don’t remember that part clearly but Mom pronounced it a beautiful specimen, ha.

She ended her memory of that story by saying those were the good old days, and she didn’t know if they would ever return. Since she’s feeling so poorly, I didn’t mention that for me, as a constipated child getting an enema, it was definitely not a warm and fuzzy moment.

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