Every ostomate should have a cat or, even better, cats. They are sensitive and observant creatures that, in their dependence upon you (a phenomenon of which they will not admit), will help provide you with the feeling that you are a productive member of society. I was sprawled on the couch one day, watching a movie, with Fancy Pants, one of my cats, laying upon the right side of my belly. This worked out because the stoma is on the left side. Then my ostomy began to sound off softly, possibly since I’d had chili with beans for lunch. Having no interest in the flick, Fancy was facing my chin and, every time the stoma went puh-puh-puh, she would turn her head toward it. She’d settle back down, more stoma putterings, again she’d turn toward it. “It’s just my ostomy, Fancy,” I told her. She seemed to accept that and paid it no mind afterward.
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