Halt Who Goes there Friend or Enema

Halt Who Goes There Friend or Enema
An impactful word which will cause nurses to cringe is “enema.” An enema most of the time meant the “3 H’s:” high, hot, and heck of a lot. It wasn’t a small prepackaged enema found in pharmacies or stores of today. Those enemas were mixed when needed. The recipe varied because of the nurse’s individual preference. The main ingredient was hot tap water and Castile soap. Some nurses added hydrogen peroxide or table salt.
The liquid Castile soap came in small plastic packages like salad dressings or ketchhup we get at fast food restaurants. The pouch of soap was ripped or snipped open and the contents squeezed into a plastic bag of hot water. The plastic bag was a much larger version of an I. V. bag. It was attached to a long clear plastic tube and a clamp to control the flow of the solution. Often there were times that one infusion wasn’t enough for stubborn impactions and the task became a bucket and bedpan brigade.
Often an air freshener with a wick was brought into the room to mask the aroma of the enema’s returns. I always thought it made the client’s bathroom and room smell like a septic tank truck had hit a florist’s van.
In a nurse’s career, there are days of routine chores: bandages, passing medicines, taking vital signs, and charting, but many memories are of horrendous stories of enemas. Some were so dramatic that they almost defy a normal person’s imagination.
One exceptionally bizarre occurance was for a boy about ten years old. Because the parents were worried that he hadn’t moved his bowels in several days and now complained of belly pain, the parents brought him in to be examined. X-rays confirmed a fecal impactions and the emergency room physician deemed in necessary to clean the kid out. Believe me, that’s not fun to do with a kid in pain and didn’t want it done. It took three nurses and multiple attempts before success was accomplished. Each enema was followed by a cleanup period to prevent falls and other dangerous situations. It sort of reminded me of the saying, “Where were you when it hit the fan?”
Another remembrance was a near miss. My grandfather Beck was like many elderly who are fixated on moving their bowels. His was to drink hot water to stimulate the desired effect. My mom, Sybil Miner Beck called one morning to say, “Your grandfather needs an enema.” Now that is the last thing a guy wants to hear early in the morning. Reluctantly I agreed. I’d just finished dressing when the phone rang again. “Never mind, your grandfather just called. He had a wonderful passage.”