An "illestomy" means I have no colon which means I have a "stoma" that sticks out about 3 inches where my poop (and I use that term loosely- it doesn't resemble poop.) comes out into a bag. The bag is there to catch whatever my silly stoma likes to spew out at any given time. Cheese and Bread thicken it, which brings me to my most memorable experience thus far.
Tyre, Morgan and I went with Clay, Angela, James, and Abigail to a fall festival on Saturday. We ate at Chick-Fil-A and then headed down to Glenn Heights for the festivities. Did the bounce houses, petting zoo, and made a pumpkin and decided to leave. On the way back we stopped to get dinner at a new Mexican Restaurant. The good thing about the "BaG" is I have a b
it of time between going to the bathroom and emptying it. And, being how I am 6 months into this thing you would think I could empty with my eyes closed. So, we eat, and eat, and eat (tortillas and queso) and I decided to go empty my bag. When I opened my bag IT WENT EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE. Like all of the toilet, floor, walls, and managed to get in my underwear. WTF? How freaking embarrassing. How old am I? 95? 85? Nope, I'm 31 and this is when the bitterness weasels its ways back in- when something happens that reminds me that I will forever be changed. I shouldn't have to clean up the bathroom because I had an "accident." Will anything in my life resemble normalcy again?
On a happier note, with Halloween coming to a close- Thanksgiving and Christmas are ready to come right in. So, the same goals from last year- atleast some of the gift I give you will be handmade by Morgan or me.
xoxo
