YOU CAN LOOK THE OTHER WAY, but you won’t be any more successful at making something unpleasant go away than the dumb ostrich sticking its head in the sand. Everyone on this website is aware of that, of course. You know you’re having a bad day when the good news is you’re going to have a bag attached to your belly. But then come the good days, the days of realization and relief, when it dawns on you that perhaps that sound of something whistling past your ear was you dodging a bullet. You walk slow when you first get out of the bed with the bars on the side, but pretty soon you discover that you haven’t lost your singing voice, your imagination, or your memory of good things. Maybe there are some familiar faces around to sustain your recovery of your self-confidence and your personal integrity, those parts of you that perhaps went into hibernation during your detention in a hospital gown. But now your stamina and courage are rewarded with the opportunity to make your own bed again, and you remember that the outside world looks a hell of a lot better when you’re not seeing it through the institutional glass of a hospital window. Few things are better than birdsong in the morning with a cup of your own coffee. Welcome home.
Amen... Home recovery is the way to go. I personally pushed my doctors, and by day 8, I was home. Mind you, sleeping sitting up on the couch, but the smells and sounds of home with my dogs and my hubby was the best medicine.
Home Sweet Home
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I've been saying that for a while now, that when you realize your life is better with a stoma than being six feet under the grass, accepting reality and dealing with it, some days are harder than others with leaks and new pains where there weren't any before, that make you worry, but we're alive and doing what we have to for another day.
I do miss all the nurses. But being home is way better and what a person does with themselves is 100% up to them. Sit around and mope or heal up the best you can and get on with whatever it is you do. It's your life, you only got one, either waste it or make the most of it, it's all on you. Anyone wanna go....
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My Ostomy Journey: LeeAnne | Hollister
The feeling of fresh air on the face as you exit the hospital doors was one of the best feelings ever, felt like I'd exited some horrible limbo land of zombies into the land of the living.
The reaction of my dog seeing me for the first time in weeks was pretty good too, but she didn't understand why she couldn't hurl herself into my lap like usual!
In recovery when you're finally allowed to drive, nothing like planting the foot on a long stretch of road to feel like you're back to normal.
Yeah. Cooper didn't leave my side for a long time when I came home.
The Hollister may hold up, but I reckon the dangly bits flappin' in the breeze may need a holster/jockstrap of some kind!
Learn the results of our ostomy sleep survey.