So here we are already, November 2009. It was in 1999 that I was told that there was nothing left to do other than removing my colon to save myself from dying due to my non-response to any of the existing UC/Crohn's treatments available at the time. That year, within 8 months, my life went from a certain reality to its opposite. I went from the super healthy ambitious girl to the sick teen whose life was threatened by something medical teams couldn't even figure out. To this day we still don't know if things could have been different or not. At the time, I was so scared of what was happening to me that I had been sick and not telling anyone for about 5 months, to the point where I was almost doing enough anemia from having chronic hemorrhages that they had to hospitalize me to prevent an anemic coma. If it was not for the anemia, I don't even know how long I would have kept hoping that it would just go away. The fact is, my mother has Crohn's disease and at the time I could remember her being so scared because they were talking about her needing to go through surgery. The irony is that, I believe that me being sick kinda got her out of her crisis (odd enough considering stress is quite bad usually) and I have been the one ending with the bag.
So, as a 14-year-old teenager, I would be given a challenge that most of my homologue fellow friends and school colleagues were not even aware of the existence. (Even at 24, some are not even familiar with surgeries like that.) I can remember the first time I saw my stoma and the kind of ... "alright, let's be strong" call that came to my mind when I was in the intensive care. It was the beginning of a long adaptation process... and oddly enough, it's an adaptation that I mostly learned on my own and with the help of my family and friends since they never set me up with any psychological aid after the surgery (I might be wrong to assume that we should probably all have some sort of psychological coaching to help us deal with this). Thankfully, I had these people around me and I am so grateful.
Anyway, the first 5 years were really hard, as I was kinda learning to go through normal teenage steps dealing with my conditions and the ubiquitous feeling that people would judge me and would not be able to accept me as I was. So I would not tell about my surgery and I would keep myself from a lot because I was so convinced I'd be rejected (and I was so wrong...). The fact is that, I thought it was a great idea to try to make some friends over the internet to test their reaction as a modulator to testing it in my real life... Bad mistake lol. The people I had told at the time, strangely disappeared after I did... So I did not tell any guy about my surgery until the age of 18... but that time, it went well =) and the taboo was broken. I remember that at that time, my speech about the surgery was that... I could never accept it, but that I could learn to tolerate the fact it was my reality. I was actually convinced that it was something I would never truly accept and that even if I was realizing that it had saved my life and all.
Now, 10 years after, from experiences to experiences. Now that I am a young woman and that I have somewhat found who I was instead of looking for it. Now that I have been exposed to more acceptance from others than I was giving myself the right to at first. Now, that I have discovered my intimacy with a few men and that they have not judged me and have shown burning desire for me regardless of my surgery. Now that my friends and I can have a drink and start joking about the fact that my life must be awesome because I can't have the asshole on fire due to tourista or whatnot. Now that I can say it to people as if I were talking about rain and sunny days. I believe that I am actually accepting it rather than just tolerating it. And even if I could try to go for a J-pouch and such... I am not even able to say that it would really interest me. Because well, it's now part of my identity. I don't know when the transition happened, but I know that it may have taken 10 years, but there is always hope to be feeling truly well with it. I won't lie, I have my grey days sometimes still, when bad luck happens, but hell, it gives me the funniest story to tell once the dust has settled. So, for that tenth year of living as an ostomate, I will just embrace that optimism and hope that those of you who may still feel awkward about it find the key to be in peace with it, because it feels much better and makes the days way more enjoyable.
PS: Thanks for those who read, I guess I just had to share that with people that actually really know what I am talking about. =)
So, as a 14-year-old teenager, I would be given a challenge that most of my homologue fellow friends and school colleagues were not even aware of the existence. (Even at 24, some are not even familiar with surgeries like that.) I can remember the first time I saw my stoma and the kind of ... "alright, let's be strong" call that came to my mind when I was in the intensive care. It was the beginning of a long adaptation process... and oddly enough, it's an adaptation that I mostly learned on my own and with the help of my family and friends since they never set me up with any psychological aid after the surgery (I might be wrong to assume that we should probably all have some sort of psychological coaching to help us deal with this). Thankfully, I had these people around me and I am so grateful.
Anyway, the first 5 years were really hard, as I was kinda learning to go through normal teenage steps dealing with my conditions and the ubiquitous feeling that people would judge me and would not be able to accept me as I was. So I would not tell about my surgery and I would keep myself from a lot because I was so convinced I'd be rejected (and I was so wrong...). The fact is that, I thought it was a great idea to try to make some friends over the internet to test their reaction as a modulator to testing it in my real life... Bad mistake lol. The people I had told at the time, strangely disappeared after I did... So I did not tell any guy about my surgery until the age of 18... but that time, it went well =) and the taboo was broken. I remember that at that time, my speech about the surgery was that... I could never accept it, but that I could learn to tolerate the fact it was my reality. I was actually convinced that it was something I would never truly accept and that even if I was realizing that it had saved my life and all.
Now, 10 years after, from experiences to experiences. Now that I am a young woman and that I have somewhat found who I was instead of looking for it. Now that I have been exposed to more acceptance from others than I was giving myself the right to at first. Now, that I have discovered my intimacy with a few men and that they have not judged me and have shown burning desire for me regardless of my surgery. Now that my friends and I can have a drink and start joking about the fact that my life must be awesome because I can't have the asshole on fire due to tourista or whatnot. Now that I can say it to people as if I were talking about rain and sunny days. I believe that I am actually accepting it rather than just tolerating it. And even if I could try to go for a J-pouch and such... I am not even able to say that it would really interest me. Because well, it's now part of my identity. I don't know when the transition happened, but I know that it may have taken 10 years, but there is always hope to be feeling truly well with it. I won't lie, I have my grey days sometimes still, when bad luck happens, but hell, it gives me the funniest story to tell once the dust has settled. So, for that tenth year of living as an ostomate, I will just embrace that optimism and hope that those of you who may still feel awkward about it find the key to be in peace with it, because it feels much better and makes the days way more enjoyable.
PS: Thanks for those who read, I guess I just had to share that with people that actually really know what I am talking about. =)
