EVEN THE EAGLE STAYS WITHIN RANGE of its nest. So too must the ostomy person. I can’t get too far from my supplies. It keeps me from doing stupid things, like running away from home or becoming a mercenary. It’s safe to say I won’t be disappearing into the anarchist underground any time soon. But I regard this as more of a safety device than an impingement upon my freedom. “Freedom,” said Jean-Paul Sartre, “is what we do with what is done to us.” So, this ostomy is what some surgeon did to me years and years ago. I don’t even remember his name, and I’m sure he’s dead now anyway. But that surgery, drastic as it was, made it possible for me to leave that hospital alive. Isn’t that freedom? In any event, I have tried to treat it as such. If there are restrictions, it is nothing too limiting for the things I truly want to do, and I’ve done a lot. Freedom isn’t running away; it is being productive. No rearrangement of my human plumbing is going to disengage or inhibit my brain or my other bodily functions. So I can bring my remaining operative equipment to bear upon my chosen field, and linger at whatever well I wish, and give the middle finger to negativity.

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Ostomy surgery is stressful both for the patient and the caregiver, and creates a major life change for both people in a relationship.
Learn how to care for your loved one, while still taking care of yourself.
Learn how to care for your loved one, while still taking care of yourself.