Love life… — Gladrags & Bags

It’s funny the things that pop into your head. I was thinking about how I felt pre op the other day.

I think it had been sparked by a post I saw about things not to say to someone with a stoma or facing stoma surgery.

A phrase that gets bandied around a lot to people with stomas is “oh god no! I’d rather be dead than have a stoma!!”

Which is such a rogue thing to say for so many reasons. I’m cool with people having their own opinion. But it’s simply not based on experience (most of the time).

To quote the great Cher - “words are like weapons they wound sometimes…”

Would a person really prefer death to a stoma?

(*I have heard of a case where a man chose to die from the bowel condition he was suffering, rather than the bag option. But one person isn’t a trend, it’s a tragedy, an absolute tragedy. I feel it was probably caused by society’s lack of understanding about stomas to start with).

(They’re stinky, gross, pooy, etc etc…not true! They’re the butt of jokes…true. They are a definite negative thing…they’re not but that’s how they are perceived).

Even in my darkest times pre APR surgery (and there were a lot) I never once saw dying as a better option.

I was traumatised, and in all honestly I was completely freaked out and disgusted by what was going to be my new normal. But it was still preferable to death.

If only I could have known then what I know now. I really really like my stoma. I absolutely love my life with it. Not in-spite or despite but solely because of it.

A few things helped me to get on with life once I recovered from my surgery (it’s takes an absolute age to get back to almost normal, be prepared for it to feel like an eternity);

1, I tend to majorly overreact, and then calm down and adapt quickly.

2, I suppose it helps that I really enjoy life. I like to play at life. Chris always says I treat it like I’m living in a giant doll house…which is a fair assessment.

I just don’t think any of it’s serious unless it’s life or death, that shit gets real very quickly. The rest is transient, it can change, things can get better.

It’s probably because I’ve never had a “proper job” that I like to play at life.

I was a Nanny. So I went from playing with dolls as a child (till quite a surprisingly old age, at least mid teens), to 2 years of studying playing with dolls, to qualifying as an NNEB nursery nurse - playing with dolls, to getting a job as a Nanny - playing with dolls, to motherhood - to yes, playing with dolls again…only this time they were Action Man and Ninja Turtles.

I’ve never felt any need to stop playing, why should any of us?

So although I have a fairly decent grasp on reality, for the most part, I just like to play. It makes life easier, more enjoyable.

And then we come to 3, probably the most important thing - I don’t work, so of course I have an easier time than a lot of people. I don’t have to navigate bag changes and random outbursts of wind with no warning in the work place. I totally understand that my experience and other’s is not the same.

I only have to navigate through the world of me. I make stoma life look easy because it literally is for me personally.

I still have to make decisions on whether I let my stoma control my existence. It can still be tricky at times.

My two main issues; the possibility of it making a noise that I have no warning or control over. And the possibility of the shit really hitting the fan - the bag leaking.

I think living life to the full is worth the risks.

I always suggest to people who are new to stoma owning that having friends over is a great way to get back into socialising after surgery.

You get to cook a meal that suits your needs, you’re on home turf should some accident occur, you are in safe surroundings so you should hopefully feel more at ease.

We had friends over on Saturday, and my stoma made 2 loud fart noises, (just to explain that a bit more. I never really know how loud it actually is, because I feel it happening, as well as hear it so it might be a lot quieter than I think. I find it incredibly mortifyingly embarrassing. so I am in a heightened state of alert).

Anyway, my friends ~ whom our entire circle’s ethos is mutual lovingly playful piss taking and ridicule ~ either didn’t hear my farts, or couldn’t care less about them, to the point it wasn’t worth pin pointing for said ridicule.

Either way I felt relieved that it wasn’t brought into focus for attention.

It really is a sticking point for me. But it still doesn’t make me want to hide away safe from potential embarrassment, and it most definitely doesn’t make me feel that death would be the better option.

So when I hear people say the “I’d rather be dead than have a stoma” spiel I want to punch them in the throat. Hahahah. I’m joking, I’m a pacifist. But it does aggravate me.

It’s such a bullshit throw away comment. Of course the choice is theirs to make should the time come. But seriously, give me a break. Really? You’d really truly prefer to be dead?

My life is bigger, bolder, brighter and just generally better than it was before I was finally diagnosed, after 5-7 years of real misdiagnosed misery.

I get to go anywhere I want, I’ve travelled the world. I literally get up, shower, change my bag and go. Absolutely anywhere.

My fully intact bottomed friends have to get up, shower, try and have a poo before they leave the house, if that was unsuccessful they are at the mercy of Russian roulette of “will a toilet be available at the point of need?”. And all too often there isn’t, think I’m exaggerating? Think again, I’ve seen them in a right old state many times.

I feel, rightly or wrongly, superior to them and their old fashioned plumbing in that moment. :)

Add in the many friends (myself included pre op) who have had unfortunate accidents. So grim.

I’m going to be honest, I love my stoma!

I haven’t yet reached the South Pacific or Australasia or the Far East yet but I will.

But I’ve been to a hell of a lot more places than people who haven’t had the surgery ~ that’s supposedly ‘worst than death’, the worst case scenario, the end of the line, negative, negative etc etc.

I think one of my main concerns pre op was going to be dressing well. Would I be able to? Will I be in oversized joggers and hoodies, as though I was auditioning for Kevin and Perry the reunion!

Well the answer is simple, yes I can wear nice clothes. I could of course wear hoodies and joggers too if I wanted. I have options.

Dress from New Look, Shoes below from Chloe

*I recently came across a little life hack for big boobed girls. As much as I love and appreciate what the gods gave me, my boobs are a little bit too big and unruly for some outfits.

They can cause anything I wear to not sit right (clothes are not designed for boobs). So if I wear a shirt dress, or shirts come to that, I can get a lot of gapage.

Well enter stage right…modesty pins!!

Little pin badge type broaches that hold the gape closed. I bought these on Amazon. There were about 40 in the pack but some where horrid looking, so I donated them to charity (big of me I know) ;)

They really work a treat.

It saves my boobs poking out, so that’s a plus for everyone. :)

Saturday we had a gathering of our friends, which we call Curry Club, because it started off with me cooking curry at ours for a few people, and it grew and grew from there. But although it’s called Curry Club, it’s not always curry.

Saturday I cooked chickens, gammon and salt beef, the rest of the meal was provided by a trip to Costco. ;)

I like entertaining at home, I don’t like cooking.

Dress from Scamp & Dude, Shoes from Gina.

I saw this dress on a lady in my local shopping centre. I asked where it was from because it looked gorgeous on her.

She was tall and slim and she looked great.

I am somewhat shorter and stouter, so it doesn’t look like she did. But I really love it anyway.

I love the high front and the low back…which was super handy as I woke up to find a massive spot on my chest, so that was nicely covered.

It is flat fronted, which can be a bit tricky for me as my bag can show. I wore a thick petticoat, for extra coverage, and decided to not give a flying **** that a bit of bag outline was still visible. Really, life is too short for that sort of stuff.

Entertaining at home isn’t second best, or anywhere near it. It’s comfortable and easy and cosy. And the house is filled with people and laughter.

Setting the table is of course optional, but for me it’s vital. All part of my giant dolls house life.

Someone asked me where I keep all my scaping = every cupboard and drawer in the house and 3 garden sheds.

(And I talk about downsizing to a flat!!? Hahahaha).

Hat from Lock & Co, Top from M&S, Trousers from Tesco, Shoes from Hermes, Bag from Christian Dior.

I had dressed for the much needed, and at last, bit of sunshine. We had intended to go to London. But we were blocked at every turn by car, and we didn’t fancy going in by train. So after 2 hours of driving in circles, we just came home again.

Chris decided to get some work done, and I pottered around and did some gardening. It was while I was out in there that I got the idea to try and play pétanque on the drive way! It’s almost as if it’s made for it!

He (the reluctant player) didn’t think it would work, but it actually does. We played three games, I won zero games. Unless it’s Air Hockey, where I am a nasty vicious shrew of an opponent, I’m not bothered by winning or losing, as long as we play.

Monday I headed back into London, only this time I succeeded in getting there.

Chris had a meeting, so while he was at that I went shopping and mooching. Meeting up with him after work for drinks and dinner.

Dress from Zara, Shoes from Hermes, Bag from Louis Vuitton.

I was on my own, so I decided to skip lunch and go straight to dessert…because I’m a grown up and I can. ;)

Would recommend L’eto. The milkshakes are heavenly, as are the cakes.

I then went off and bought a few things in the near by shops.

Then headed to F&M to meet Chris.

A glass of 0.0 bubbles before we head to the main attraction and my raison d'être…

….Chutney Mary…

The whole “I’d rather be dead brigade” can do as they wish…I’m going to go with good food, good friends and good times…

Dress from Primark, Shoes from Hermes.

The key to dressing well isn’t about spending loads of money on clothes. It’s about spending money on the right clothes.

This dress was about £13 or £14. But it looks equally as nice as the £50 something dress from Zara, and even more expensive dresses.

Because the style suits my body shape and bag needs.

If I feel like I look good, then I feel good about myself. I find I hold myself better, I walk taller…and god knows this short arse needs it! :)

It’s nothing to do with a price tag. It’s about finding my niche in clothing. And enjoying myself.

Spending £10 or £1000 will not change anything unless you feel good in it.

Chris booked something for us to do tonight. It was just a random out of the blue idea. What a lovely man. :)

I really like him…which is handy…we’re celebrating 30 years together this month, so liking him is probably a key factor.

But what an amazing man to think of things he thinks I’d enjoy. I am very grateful to have met him all those years ago.

We’ve had a blast. There’s been some downs along the way, and then even more downs, but my god there’s been some sensational highs!

*Chris finally gave in to my advice (strongly encouraged advice: also see under - nagging) to get some stomach and bowel issues checked out.

He has now experienced bowel prep, and a thorough checkup. And all is A-Okay! Thankfully.

He’s going to be tested for Sibo. Which is a good thing, because in my head anyone with bowel symptoms is a cause of great panic and fear, and sibo isn’t that, it’s an easy solve.

Chris may well just have a long lasting stomach virus. Which although isn’t great symptoms wise. It does fill me with hope.

If you are having any bowel or stomach problems, please please please get yourself checked out ASAP. Don’t wait for me to nag you to go. ;)

It could in fact all be sorted out by a course of antibiotics and bland food.

But the sooner you know, the better. Xx

Ready for my mystery date night…