Ostomy laughs

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19062
Bill
May 22, 2014 7:48 pm
OSTOMY LAUGHS.


It's sometimes hard to squeeze a laugh
within a rhyming paragragh.
But given the right attitude
stomas give us latitude.


Our tactics should be to tell jokes
to those non-stomatic folks.
So let us take a different path,
lighten-up and try to laugh.


Catastrophes may come and go
so from them let some humour flow.
Don't let the traumas let you down
put on a smile and not a frown.


There often is a funny side
to anything you can deride.
And as a stoma's visible
it's easy to be risible.


So take the anatomical
to make the stoma comical.
Some comics use a red-red nose
I wear a stoma like a rose.


We surely can be humorous
with something so hilarious.
We know the mess can be quite vile
but it can also bring a smile.


People can be incredulous
with things that seem ridiculous.
So I'm convinced that we could find
humorous images for the mind.


For those of us that also care
this is a way that we can share.
A way they can converse with us.
without us making any fuss.


B. Withers 2013

blueonthetyne
May 27, 2014 8:13 am

A politician was on the news this morning saying it's time for a change. I looked up and said, "Did not realize he had a bag."

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blueonthetyne
May 27, 2014 10:35 am

What do you call a stoma expert that tells you your bag will be fine in the shower and it won't weaken the seal? Clueless.

Bill
May 28, 2014 5:25 am
Hello blueonthetyne. Thanks for the comments and the smiles that they bring. Best wishes Bill
blueonthetyne
May 28, 2014 3:32 pm

One sunny day in the beautiful spring, I awoke in a hospital with a funny thing. I slid my hand under the bed, it was in a bag, it had a funny head. "Nurse," I screamed, "I've got something growing." "Don't worry," she said, "it will help your flowing." I buried my head deep in the pillow, sobbed and sobbed like a weeping willow. With some help from a very kind nurse, I learned to cope, first things first. Empty, remove, clean, and change, there's lots of extras to arrange. Over the weeks, things have got better, my doctor said so in the letter. I'm back to work, driving the bus, and I will say without much fuss, loved ones have been great, friends too, and it's not often I'm feeling blue. I've been to the match, out and about, and plenty more I could shout. So when I thought on that warm March day, my life was over, I'd never play. I was wrong, so wrong, the bag can stay.

 

Getting Support in the Ostomy Community with LeeAnne Hayden | Hollister

Play
blueonthetyne
May 28, 2014 3:32 pm

That last one should be written in paragraphs, but it's come out mixed up. I'm not very good.

Bill
May 28, 2014 5:46 pm
Hello blueonthetyne. I did like your verse but had to move it to Word before reading it. I also tried to move it back again but it simply would not work properly in the appropriate paragraphs. so I now give up.Best wishesBill
blueonthetyne
May 28, 2014 6:00 pm

I'll keep trying. Glad you liked it.

blueonthetyne
May 28, 2014 6:52 pm

I'm posting my poem again to try and get the paragraphs right, so please bear with me.

One sunny day in the beautiful spring, I awoke in a hospital with a funny thing.

I slid my hand under the bed, it was in a bag, it had a funny head.

"Nurse!" I screamed, "I've got something growing!"

"Don't worry," she said, "it will help your flowing."

I buried my head deep in the pillow, sobbed and sobbed like a weeping willow.

With some help from a very kind nurse, I learned to cope. First things first, empty, remove, clean, and change.

There's lots of extras to arrange.

Over the weeks, things have gotten better. My doctor said so in the letter.

I'm back to work, driving the bus, and I will say without much fuss, loved ones have been great, and friends too.

And it's not often I'm feeling blue.

I've been to the match, out and about, and plenty more I could shout.

So when I thought on that warm March day, my life was over, I'd never play, was wrong, so wrong. The bag can stay.

Me...

Bill
May 29, 2014 5:18 am
Hello blueonthetyne. The paragraph problem is the reason I tend to make a new blog for rhyming verses rather than put them in a reply to posts. To blog them with the formatting in tact it depends on what operating system you have. With Windows 8.1 I can write verses in Word and just cut paste. However the pasting will not work unless I press the icon in the top left corner and then use the shortcut CTRL+V. When I had Windows XP it was a different procedure, whereby I needed to replace hard returns with soft returns before it would transfer correctly. Why it should be so complicated I cannot quite fathom. Best wishes Bill.
iMacG5
May 29, 2014 10:26 pm

I guess I felt you needed some help and I had nothing better to do, so here's a little rearrangement.
One sunny day in the beautiful spring, I awoke in a hospital with a funny thing.
I slid my hand under the bed; it was in a bag, it had a funny head.
"NURSE," I screamed, "I've got something growing."
"Don't worry," she said, "it will help your flowing."
I buried my head deep in the pillow, sobbed and sobbed like a weeping willow.
With some help from a very kind nurse, I learned to cope, first things first.
Empty, remove, clean, and change, there's lots of extras to arrange.
Over the weeks, things have got better, my doctor said so in the letter.
I'm back to work, driving the bus, and I will say without much fuss.
Loved ones have been great, and friends too, and it's not often I'm feeling blue.
I've been to the match, out and about, and plenty more I could shout.
So when I thought on that warm March day, my life was over, I'd never play.
I was wrong, so wrong, the bag can stay.
I'm not a poet or a grammarian; just thought this might help.
Mike

iMacG5
May 29, 2014 10:26 pm

Guess what! It didn't work at all! It looked great before I submitted it. Sorry. Mike

honor
May 30, 2014 4:20 pm

Hello Bill Withers (surely he was a musician), I wouldn't have thought ostomy and poetry went well together, but you've made me laugh with your ostomy poem, thanks a lot for that. I think Stella the stoma is laughing too!

Bill
May 30, 2014 4:36 pm
Hello honor. Thank you for your post and I think you are right about there being a singer by that name. As for ostomies and rhyming verse - well! to date I've managed to squeeze about 90 poems from the subject, excluding those that I have classified more as a reflection of mental disturbance than strictly and directly relevant to ostomies. The beauty of having a condition such as this is that the subject matter is something I have direct experience with both physically and emotionally. I hope that this knowledge and experience can be portrayed through rhyme in a way that is both entertaining and informative. I figure that if just one person such as yourself gets something from it ( especially amusement) then it's all been worthwhile. Best wishes Bill
blueonthetyne
Jun 01, 2014 5:14 am

My doctor at the clinic asked if I was doing exercise. Yes, I said, 7 miles a day on the bike. Well, I suggest that you do that for 7 days in a row, he said. I inquired, where will that get me? Nearly 50 miles up the street, but make sure you take spare bags.

Bill
Jun 01, 2014 7:11 am
Hello blueonthetyne. Good advice from your more than helpful doctor. I told mine about my excessive mucus. He asked 'Have you had it before' - I replied 'Yes!' He came back with 'Well, you've got it it again'. The old ones are always the best! Best wishesBill
debbinmiller
Jun 19, 2023 6:41 am
Reply to Bill

You guys are great! I'm loving the poems! Humor is the best medicine for whatever ails you!

Bill
Jun 24, 2023 6:45 am
Reply to debbinmiller

Hello debbinmiller.
Thanks for your response to this post, which I note is now 9 years old. How time flies!

Since then, I have written many more rhymes reflecting the journey with this stoma. However, some of the more pertinent rhymes I have tried to condense into just two lines, which I labelled ‘Di-Line Rhymes’. Below is an example from the booklet ‘Di-line Rhymes on Stomas’  2018.

                WHAT IS IT?
A stoma, when all’s said and done
is just another type of bum.

                                    B. Withers