Dating someone with a colostomy
So now I have had five surgeries; three more than I would have had, had I not listened to a silly boy.
With hopefully only one more surgery in the future, I can finally say I don’t care about having a bag, nor about finding someone to love me; I honestly couldn’t care less.
I was sick for three years with Ulcerative Colitis and would always joke that the next step would be a bag. But when a surgeon walked up to my hospital bed and said, , leaving me in tears, my new reality began.
When I used to say that I could end up with a bag, I didn’t really understand what it meant because like I said, I never really thought it would happen to me.
Then one afternoon, a bunch of doctors came to my bed, pulled the curtain around me and said, My second stoma was by far the worst.
That reason alone wasn’t a good enough reason to stay. I went to the toilet and lost a lot of blood, and knew immediately that something wasn’t right. When I was sitting in bed waiting for my flexi sigmoidoscopy, my doctor asked me if any poo was leaking from my vagina, and I very proudly said no.
The muscles would cramp up every time I went to the toilet, and the skin around that area was so sensitive that toilet paper was worse than sandpaper.
I would cry and cry every time I went to the toilet.
I believe this was a really important time for me; it allowed me to accept my situation.
Once I’d recovered from surgery, I remember feeling amazing because I wasn’t in any pain and wasn’t running to the toilet every few minutes; I literally went about 30 times a day previously.