Everything felt different after coming home. I was different. Six months is a long time but in a way it’s also not very much time at all. Not enough time to wrap your head around an ostomy, a J-pouch, what surgery does, and everything else that had happened. So while my hospitalization felt like it was forever, in the grand scheme of things…
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At this point I was no longer living. I use the word living differently than meaning to be alive. Living to me is something more than breathing air in and out. It is more than just existing. Living requires quality of life. I was not living back then, I was just alive…
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IT WAS SNOWING, THERE WERE PEOPLE OUT THERE, THIS WAS LIFE. IT WAS GOING ON WITHOUT ME ALL THIS TIME WHILE I HAD BEEN IN THAT BUILDING.
People had been shopping, they already purchased their Christmas gifts, they’ve been doing things and my life had been on pause since July. That felt strange. It felt strange that I had entered the hospital in early July when it was summer and I was leaving when it was snowing. How did this happen? How was this my life? How did six months go by?
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BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP!
Do you hear that?
Of course you do.
Just when you’re drifting off to sleep your IV pump or someone else’s starts beeping. If not that then it’s noisy staff members in the hallway just outside your room, someone coming in to take your vitals, and then an hour later someone else…
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I’m sure when I had my J-pouch surgery I was put into positions I really don’t want to think about and who wants their surgeon looking at a hairy butt crack (not that mine is hairy, but yours could be. I wont judge). This hairy ass could affect their work if all they can think about is how hairy it is, I’ve seen Grey’s Anatomy!
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