MY CALENDAR SAYS THAT June 21 is the first day of summer, still five weeks away. It is something to look forward to no matter what your age, as it evokes images of pleasant activities outside with friends and family. “Summer afternoon,” said Henry James, “to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” This particular date, speaking technically, marks the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere (the day with the most hours of sunlight) and the winter solstice in the Southern Hemisphere (fewest hours of sunlight). Summer afternoons smell of cut grass, scented skin protectant lotions, and backyard grilling. Because I’m a Floridian, I get an early preview of summer, and although Spring and Fall are my two favorite seasons, I can certainly understand James’s enthusiasm for the warmest months. For an ostomy person, however, it could mean more frequent changes as more sweating means a need to get a new appliance on occurs more often. All due respect to Henry James, we could all come up with our own “two most beautiful words in the English language.” I propose: butterfinger blizzard.
MeetAnOstoMate is a remarkable community of 41,443 members.
“I found real people, real humor, and answers I couldn’t get anywhere else.”
“The support here impressed my husband’s medical team - they plan to recommend it.”
“This community saved me when I thought I was a freak. Now I’m thriving.”
“Thank god for this site - I finally knew what to ask my surgeon.”
Well, I hit the two year mark. I went back and read my posts from when I first found this site. I was very fortunate in that I stumbled upon it only 4 weeks post op. I have said many times that this community really saved me. The first 2 weeks after my surgery I shut down completely. It wasn't until about the 3rd week that my son came in to my room, flicked on the light and told me I was going to have to get back to living because I was scaring him. I had fallen into such a depression. He ticked me off, but it also made me stop and think- what was I going to do? Feel sorry for myself and sulk, or be grateful I was alive.
I've re-read my journals from that time and it was after my son kicked my butt, so to speak, I took an honest inventory and had to dig deeper than I've ever had to. I mean, I had survived a pretty nasty divorce, after a pretty crappy marriage and that was tough. But this was different. I felt like I was now a handicapped person who would be limited in their life and be looked at as a freak. My mental state was precarious, at best.
But then I found this site. I just lurked a bit before posting. I read so many of the other stories and I started to see just how full my life can be, I was not handicapped, and certainly not a freak! The stories of survival, the sense of humor, the support and compassion was inspiring. It was then I made myself get out of the dark, and get my sh*t together.
Not all rainbows and sunshine at first, hardly! But with grace from myself - to myself, and the kindness and willingness of the folks here to be supportive, non judgemental and openly share intimate details about their life circumstances, l not only survived but thrived.
I think of all the years I had suffered with such extreme pain, barely functioning, and the many hospital stays and how that is all behind me now. (All fingers, toes, and legs crossed that I never have to go near a hospital for myself ever again. I think I'd rather have a fork stuck in my eye. I loathe every about them.)
So, to everyone who has been a part of this journey with me, to say thank you is not enough. I'm forever grateful to know you all. My Angels, each one of you.
And as the Grateful Dead famously said,
"what a long strange trip it's been!"
Im so happy I'm tripping with you all.


