I feel like my entire life has been on hold for the past 10 months. I know that people live with colostomy bags that are permanent and have productive and happy lives. But I also know that I haven't lived the life I wanted to since it was put in.
I realize that opting out of the bag would have been a death sentence for me. I was mostly dead when I went to the hospital that day last December. Having the stoma allowed my body time to heal all of the damage from the bowel perforation. But all of that doesn't really change how much it sucked.
I feel like I have done a pretty good job of keeping my spirits up about the whole thing. There was a lot I had to let go of and I have tried not to complain too much. It could have been worse, I could not be here at all. But the timeline I had in my head for finishing the project house was no longer possible. Moving to Colorado like I wanted was not going to happen.
I couldn't go to yoga because the doc said I wasn't allowed to work out my abs with the stoma in place. I understand why, but it had become one of the ways I was trying to take care of myself and my own sanity. Baths weren't really advisable. The bag gets soaked and the adhesive is more likely to break up sitting in water (rather than the exposure from a shower). Hot baths were my other go to for self care prior to this happening.
At the end of the day, I tried to turn to food as some form of comfort as it has always been that for me in the past. Since I was unable to continue on the healthier path I was trying to maintain, the old crutch reared its ugly head. I can say it is a challenge to self-medicate with food when you are post gastric sleeve surgery. I managed to do it even if that meant not drinking any fluids all day just so I could eat instead.
I guess in a way, I had replaced food with these other activities in my life. The yoga, the house, walking with my husband every day, a good long soak in the tub: they were all things I was doing instead of eating. I probably shouldn't be surprised that I have gained weight over this past year. Of course that's the opposite thing I wanted to do after going through with the gastric sleeve.
At this point, I am ready to get the reversal surgery over with. But I am scared. The last time I was in the hospital I nearly died. You know, I never really thought much of worrying about surgeries before then. Facing your own mortality is very sobering. I just always assumed I would be fine, no matter what I was going through. My solace going into this one I guess is that it cannot possibly be as bad as it was last December, and I survived that.
I am going to be in the hospital for about a week and at home recovering for another six weeks after that. My return to work date is 01-02-18. As much as I have benefited from working from home over the past 10 months dealing with the shit bag, I will be glad to go back to the office for a variety of reasons.
I think it will be most beneficial for me to not be working at a desk that is 10 feet from my kitchen, for example. I want to get back to the regular routine of life. I don't think I necessarily took it for granted before, but I definitely appreciate the mundane, yet happy moments of regular life. Just going to work, going for a walk, planning a vacation, taking a bath... so boring, yet so glorious!
I was actually thinking to myself earlier: what if something goes wrong and this is the last day you are alive? I spent it with my husband and my pets. I cleaned the house and washed the sheets. I am happier than I have ever been in my life and I don't believe I would change anything. I have always been authentic with my feelings with the people around me and I think they all already know that.
Tomorrow we are kissing this Mary good-bye... and saying hello to the one that poops out of her butt again. Welcome back, old friend... try not to shit your pants...
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