DURING THE FINAL 3 ½ MONTHS in the hospital, leading up to my ostomy surgery, there was a staff social worker who used to come into my room for periodic visits. She was a statuesque blonde and, since I was only twenty-one at the time, I looked forward to her showing up, even though I was not, shall we say, feeling very flirtatious. One day, she helped me out of bed and walked me over to the window. “There’s my car,” she said proudly, pointing at a golden Jaguar XKE in the parking lot below. “When you get better,” she promised, “you can take it for a spin.” Unbeknownst to me at the time, she had been advised that my getting “better” was unlikely. As it turned out, of course, I did get better, left the hospital with my new ostomy, and came back a little later to thank the hospital staff, who had never seen me ambulatory. Naturally, I paid a visit to the blonde, who flashed me an obviously faux “glad to see you” smile. I stood by her office window, looking down at the beautiful XKE. “So, when can I drive your XKE?” I asked. That’s when the hemming and hawing commenced. She was pretty much a sixth- rate liar. I saw that I wasn’t going to get anywhere near that Jag. I affected as off handed a departure as I could manage, decided against keying her car as I left, and never looked back. I assume that she eventually married a doctor and lived happily ever after. I’ve still never been in a Jaguar.

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We sat down with two influential people in the ostomy community, to find out how they cope during challenging times.
Read what they had to say.
Read what they had to say.