There was a time when I liked to go to the movies. Long before COVID-19 cancelled theatre visits, I had begun limiting non-TV film watching to special occasions for one reason and one reason only: I’m an unapologetic cheapskate. It costs a small fortune these days to attend a movie house, what with the cost of popcorn and a drink added to the price of admission. But in the fall of 2014, celebrating my birthday, we went to see the flick Equalizer with Denzel Washington as a retired gov’t black ops pro who can’t stomach bad guys. Halfway into the movie, having already demolished a large popcorn and most of a large fruit punch, I realized that my ostomy was as excited by the action on screen as I was. It had filled up to the point of discomfort. But there wasn’t a dull moment in this action-packed adventure, and I wasn’t about to miss anything by leaving for the men’s room. Denzel, I feared, would dispatch another dozen creeps while I was away. Since we were in the first showing of the day, which began at noon, there weren’t a lot of people in the place, and none close to us. Plus, everyone was focused on the screen and there was the usual loud soundtrack. I drank off the rest of my punch, removed the top and straw, quietly and surreptitiously opened my pants, and used the large drink container for a porta-potty. My spouse provided the tissues. In just a minute, I was done. No one in the place was on to me, and Denzel took out four heavily-accented dirtbags while I was tending to things. Having an ostomy, on occasion, can be a good thing.
A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do... well played.
I was out in the fields metal detecting, on a rally, near Bridport, about 50 guys and gals, spread out over a hundred acres when my ostomy bag filled up.
And I had to find a bushy bit of hedgerow to tuck into and deal with. Luckily, I had a spade! That was a few years ago now, I can look up on the wall and see the finds I made that day, I had laid them on a
square of cloth, in a plastic lid, and poured resin over them so that they are now fixed on the wall like a page from my life. I see a small bronze Roman coin, a Georgian halfpenny with the address of a tailor
from Oxford, stamped into it. Some horse stuff, bit of a pewter spoon, and some bits of pot. It was a boiling hot day. I left the dog at home...
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It is interesting to hear these stories of how you handled difficult situations. Best wishes and stay safe.
Read what they had to say.
Thank you, Lovely. Life is the ultimate difficult situation, of course. We all handle that as best we can. The best way to handle it, in my humble opinion, is with a sense of humor. Stay well.
So you basically took a dump in a public place. I think the bowel-intact get fined for that. Wonder where the filled drink container ended up—biohazard, anyone? At least Pirrip buried his!
Reminds me of the poo jogger stories (that may be an "only in Australia" phenomenon though!).
My Ostomy Journey: Bruce | Hollister
