I was invited to write an article for a magazine about ostomy living. I was honored, flattered and lost for words. This past July, my book titled Stanley and Me make three about life with an ostomy launched, and the quandary was, “what do I write about now?” As I searched and searched for a topic, Christmas and the season of miracles became a strong consideration.
In a world of political correctness, talking about religion is a huge faux pas. I am a Catholic, attended a Catholic university and love going to church. I pray often and have my prayer cards organized by miracle specialty. One would think I have lots of accumulated “favors” from the all Powerful. Not so. I often feel tested each time I make a wafer change and my stoma named Stanley is not cooperating; when the insurance company contacts me and claims that I owe them $978 for my monthly ostomy supplies; or when my autoimmune system ramps up causing horrendous side effects such as terrible joint swelling and pain. “Show me a miracle, any miracle,” I ask out loud. I hear the quiet echo of nothing and continue with my day.
Amidst this unpredictable medical roller coaster, I have experienced and have taken on a gratitude attitude. These thoughts continue to intrigue me as I never viewed myself as a miracle seeker, just a hopeful realist with a hint of pessimism. I am grateful for many things such as a smile from a stranger while shopping, a kind gesture from a co-worker, my new ostomate friends who understand the IBD journey; and most of all, my stoma.
To think that a surgeon created this opening on my belly and pulled through part of my healthy intestine is truly amazing. “How do people come up with these medical procedures anyway?,” I think to myself. How did “they” know it would work? I wonder.
This body part which was once safely tucked away, curled up inside, is now exposed and vulnerable to the world like a newborn baby. Stanley is like the child that I never had and my responsibility is to protect it from harm. Instead of parenthood, I call ostomy caretaking stomahood.
My stoma brings great joy, love and aggravation to my life. I appreciate it all.
Keeping my stoma healthy keeps me healthy. Like a doting mother, I quietly cheer as my stoma performs the functions of an ileostomy. Sometimes during a work meeting or a drive in the car, I will touch my belly for reassurance. I want to let Stanley know that everything is alright, letting me know that I am alright too.
People have asked me skeptically, do you really talk to your stoma? “Why not,” I reply? People talk to many things, why not a stoma. Let’s see, parents nurtured their children, I nurtured my stoma. My stoma is pretty cool. Yes, it makes noises and misbehaves at times, inflates my pouch and is a squirming nuisance. Yes, some days I even ask myself why this? There is no real answer to why, only acceptance of the situation. Acceptance took some time and practice.
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, are Christian or not, the end of a year is a magical time as we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new. The anticipation of good things to come is like a warm, blanket of hope. Or better yet, anticipation is like buying a lottery ticket and dreaming of big winnings hours before the broadcast.
I am grateful that Stanley does was he was created to do; he keeps me alive to experience the wonder of another day, another year and another Christmas. Today, I am part of the life’s company. How can I not be grateful? Stanley is my miracle.
Wishing you a very Happy Holiday and a wonderful New Year! LH - Jayne
In a world of political correctness, talking about religion is a huge faux pas. I am a Catholic, attended a Catholic university and love going to church. I pray often and have my prayer cards organized by miracle specialty. One would think I have lots of accumulated “favors” from the all Powerful. Not so. I often feel tested each time I make a wafer change and my stoma named Stanley is not cooperating; when the insurance company contacts me and claims that I owe them $978 for my monthly ostomy supplies; or when my autoimmune system ramps up causing horrendous side effects such as terrible joint swelling and pain. “Show me a miracle, any miracle,” I ask out loud. I hear the quiet echo of nothing and continue with my day.
Amidst this unpredictable medical roller coaster, I have experienced and have taken on a gratitude attitude. These thoughts continue to intrigue me as I never viewed myself as a miracle seeker, just a hopeful realist with a hint of pessimism. I am grateful for many things such as a smile from a stranger while shopping, a kind gesture from a co-worker, my new ostomate friends who understand the IBD journey; and most of all, my stoma.
To think that a surgeon created this opening on my belly and pulled through part of my healthy intestine is truly amazing. “How do people come up with these medical procedures anyway?,” I think to myself. How did “they” know it would work? I wonder.
This body part which was once safely tucked away, curled up inside, is now exposed and vulnerable to the world like a newborn baby. Stanley is like the child that I never had and my responsibility is to protect it from harm. Instead of parenthood, I call ostomy caretaking stomahood.
My stoma brings great joy, love and aggravation to my life. I appreciate it all.
Keeping my stoma healthy keeps me healthy. Like a doting mother, I quietly cheer as my stoma performs the functions of an ileostomy. Sometimes during a work meeting or a drive in the car, I will touch my belly for reassurance. I want to let Stanley know that everything is alright, letting me know that I am alright too.
People have asked me skeptically, do you really talk to your stoma? “Why not,” I reply? People talk to many things, why not a stoma. Let’s see, parents nurtured their children, I nurtured my stoma. My stoma is pretty cool. Yes, it makes noises and misbehaves at times, inflates my pouch and is a squirming nuisance. Yes, some days I even ask myself why this? There is no real answer to why, only acceptance of the situation. Acceptance took some time and practice.
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, are Christian or not, the end of a year is a magical time as we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new. The anticipation of good things to come is like a warm, blanket of hope. Or better yet, anticipation is like buying a lottery ticket and dreaming of big winnings hours before the broadcast.
I am grateful that Stanley does was he was created to do; he keeps me alive to experience the wonder of another day, another year and another Christmas. Today, I am part of the life’s company. How can I not be grateful? Stanley is my miracle.
Wishing you a very Happy Holiday and a wonderful New Year! LH - Jayne
