The Stoma chronicles

A perfect place to reveal your little buddy's name. And share humorous stoma events as we navigate this life we affectionately call: Post-op.

Today at work I sat daydreaming at my desk. There we were.....Me and Stoma Herb sun tanning at the beach. Herb soaking up the rays as I watched the surf lap against the shore.

Then a young lass in a tiny weenie red bikini strode up and said hello. Herb immediately perked up. I was just about to reply when suddenly a dozen bikini babes jogging caught my attentive eye.

Stay tuned for the rest of Herb's adventure on... The Stoma Chronicles.

 

Slowly I turned to get a good look at the jogging babes. Herb prodded me to stand up so he could gawk at the bouncing bikinis too. As I slowly stood up, I realized... they're coming straight at me! I began to trot up the beach.... then run as the vixens let out a war whoop and screamed "Get him!" I was huffing and puffing. But they were gaining on me and Herb. Concerned with this unusual turn of events, Herb shrank back into his wafer home as I "put the pedal to the metal." But "OH NO!" They were edging closer. I could see the whites of their eyes...... Tune in again for another exciting installment of: The Stoma Chronicles.

I stumbled onto the boardwalk and hotfooted it for the nearest bathrooms. Herb was as perplexed as me. What's up with these chicks? As I raced along... Bikini babes were hot on my tail, hooting and hollering. Closer they came. In the distance, I saw the bathrooms... with a line to get in! Oh Fortuna... what to do? By now, Herb was in a panic... growling and sputtering his disapproval. Thank God I'm wearing my hernia belt, I muttered to myself between labored breaths. Then I saw something familiar standing next to the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and stared in disbelief... it was her... the girl in the teeny weenie red bikini! Tune in next time... Will our lumbering hero escape the angry bikini mob? Will Herb regain his composure? And what's up with the chick in the teeny weenie red bikini? All this and more answered in... The Stoma Chronicles.

Hahahahahahahahahahah, you are very funny. Well, thank you for making my day funny. Hope you are doing great?

Hello Godisgreat! Thanks for the compliment. All of us with an ostomy have challenges every day. I try to add a little humor. I'm doing well, though I'm a skinny little guy... with a huge bump on my stomach. But by the grace of God, I survived my time in the hospital. So, all is good. Cheers, Dann

The Stoma Chronicles continue: The plot thickens. (Or thins, depending on what I've eaten).

The bikini mob showed no sign of slowing down. Stoma Herb said "Must be nice to be young." I had no breath to answer. Seeing my escape path blocked by the gal in the teeny weenie red bikini, I made a sudden right turn, back onto the beach, and lumbered toward the ocean. My wafer holding firm as I bumped along, my shoes sending up plumes of sand. Herb said "Hurry, dude!" Under my breath, I mumbled: "Feet, don't fail me now." I was near the water's edge. I turned for a peek behind me...bikini gang only 30 feet away!!

Will the feet fail? Will the wafer hold firm? Can our hero swim?

All will be revealed in the next episode of: The Stoma Chronicles

Hi Godisgreat, I have a colostomy too. Some things I've learned: To help lessen pancaking, and output sticking around your wafer area... I use a lubricating deodorant. Adapt 78500 made by Hollister company. Works by lubricating the inside of the bag. Safe for the stoma. Works really well. To remove the wafer easily and gently, I use Medical Adhesive Remover spray. Can be sprayed at any angle. Adapt 7731 from Hollister company. Also use adhesive remover pads in the stoma seal area of the wafer after I spray. To help dry parastomal skin around the stoma once the wafer is off, I use Stoma powder. Adapt 7906. Your stoma area is waterproof. You can shower with the wafer and bag off. This allows easy cleaning of your stoma. I use a wet paper towel to gently wipe the stoma clean. Some Ostomates lather up the stoma and rinse it off. I haven't got up the nerve to do this yet. Use antibacterial soap or any soap that has no lubricants, dyes, fragrance, or lotion in it. These ingredients will interfere with wafer adhesion. I use Ivory soap, next I'm going to try Dove. I use a 2-piece Hollister extended wear wafer and bag. Change bags 2 to 3 times a week. Change wafer every 5 to 7 days. Changing the wafer too often can lead to parastomal skin irritation. When changing the wafer, don't pull too much. Let the adhesive remover do the work. To help with ballooning, my Hollister bag has a filter and pressure relief valve. The bag also has a plastic tab on the bag so you can manually break the bag seal and squeeze out excess air. This has led to some memorable moments for me at work and home. No one is around, so I burp my bag. Then someone suddenly walks up to talk to me.... they immediately regret entering the "burp" zone. Ostomy pouch lubricating deodorant does help with this. Be careful coughing or sneezing. Try to hold down the stoma area when this happens. It's very easy to get a parastomal hernia. I have one. Makes for a big bulge on all my clothes. Take care and God bless.

Beachboy, you have the best advice. Thank you for putting this out there. So much stuff you just mentioned, not even the nurses or docs mentioned, like the sneezing and coughing and causing a hernia. I'm 4 weeks post-op. How long after surgery am I susceptible to that, or does susceptibility never go away? Do you know? Guess I should confer with the doc. LOL

Auntie Moe,

Our ostomy is a "controlled" hernia. By having an opening on our stomach area, this creates a weak spot. Think of the entire stomach area as a large closed cylinder. Pressure in this cylinder is constant against the entire inner surface. If a weak spot is created, pressure will push against that spot causing it to move outwards, because it has less strength than the rest of the cylinder. So all ostomates have the risk of hernia. After surgery, there is more risk due to the area being weakened by surgery. But even years later, you can slowly develop a parastomal hernia. Support belts help, but are no guarantee a hernia won't develop.

Hope this helps,

Dan

Stoma Chronicles Continues:

Suddenly I had an idea. The wind was blowing toward the bikini mob. Herb, I implored, can you gin up some gas? Herb quickly ballooned my bag. I quickly turned and burped the bag. The bikini gang took one more step then stopped cold. They covered their faces with manicured hands. One shouted out "OH MA GAWD.. WHAT DIED?" And with that, they turned and ran off the beach. I thanked Herb. A real lifesaver. Covered in sweat, I decided to take a dip. I waded into the surf and soon was floating under a cloudless sky. All was peaceful. Then it happened... a sound boomed around me. Da dump! Da dump.

Will Herb ever see daylight again? Will our hero get sunburnt? And what's that noise?

All will be revealed in the next sordid episode of: The Stoma Chronicles

The Stoma Chronicles are brought to you by..... The makers of Poopdaboot. Poop getting you down? Messing up that newly changed bag? Give that poop the boot. Sprinkle a little here, a little there. And presto... Poop gets the boot.

Stoma Chronicles continue:

What was that noise? It was starting to annoy Herb. Then it came faster... and louder: DA Dump..Da Dump... Da Dump DA Dump DA DUMP DA DUMP..... I looked wildly around. Nothing! Was it Herb getting gassy?? Suddenly something brushed my leg! Before I could react... I began to get pulled under. I struggled, I panicked, I screamed. I took one last big gulp of air, then slid under the surface. Frantically I reached down and attempted to free my leg and was gobsmacked....as I came face to face with.....

Does our hero ever forget a face? Can stoma Herb hold his breath? Will the wafer hold? All this and more will be revealed in the next episode of: The Stoma Chronicles

Soon to debut on Stoma Chronicles:

"The 3 Stomas." The misadventures of Moe, Larry, and Curly.

Moe's the smart stoma, Larry's the curly-haired stoma, and Curly.... let's just say he's the wild stoma. Funny how Curly is bald.

Episode one.... Fun with wafers

The Chronicles continue:

I rubbed my waterlogged eyes and stared at the chick in the teeny weenie, itsy bitsy red bikini!!! I kicked, I twisted, I struggled to get away. I was nearly out of air... Then Herb inspired me with an idea. Instead of trying to reach the surface, I'll dive and get below this brazen bikini shark. Down I went, then turned so Herb was pointing at tanned flesh. I reached down and burped my trusty Hollister 2-piece bag. A mighty bubble rose in the turbulent water... Then rested just above the red bikini top. It pulsed for a second then... then my shoulder was shaking. I heard voices. I raised my head and opened my eyes...

Has Herb saved the day? Is the red bikini toast? What's with the voices? All will be explained in the next waterlogged episode of: The Stoma Chronicles.

 

The Stoma Chronicles conclude.

I looked up and it was my boss! Then it suddenly dawned on me: I fell asleep and was dreaming. What a crazy dream. My boss was unamused. He said: "Dan, we don't pay you to be a slacker." I hurriedly said "sorry". Herb gurgled and growled. I unlocked my computer and was soon staring at spreadsheets. But my mind wandered back to a vision in a teeny weenie red bikini. I sighed. Herb gurgled.

Next on the Stoma Chronicles: Advice for the Stoma Shy. Answered by our etiquette expert.... Dear Flabby.

Our first letter.

Dear Flabby,

I'm a 32-year-old single person who loves to flirt. But my stoma keeps getting in the way every time I'm out socializing. Just last night I was trying to flirt, and at the most inopportune moment, my stoma, "Precious", decided to let loose with an obnoxious blast of gas. The other person just stared at my belly, sniffed the air, and ran. Oh Flabby, whatever shall I do?

Ostomy Gail

Dear OG,

You have a jealous stoma. Get yourself a Nu Hope hernia belt with prolapse strap. Strap will cover up "Precious" and mute any wayward "blasts." Allowing you to flirt with wild abandon.

Your Homie to the Stomie,

Flabby

Our etiquette expert, Flabby, answers another letter:

Dear Flabby,

My stoma "Gertrude" recently indicated she was now to be called "Frenchie." And further told me to stop using my deodorizer drops and get some Chanel No. 5 Eau De Parfum Spray! I was taken aback. We watched the classic movie Casablanca last night and I guess my plain Jane stoma Gertrude was entranced... and now considers herself Français. Oh Flabby, whatever can I do?

Thanks,

Wilma Wafer

 

Dear WW,

Don't start WW3 with your suddenly cosmopolitan stoma. Embrace her newfound identity... otherwise I see bag blowouts in your future. I suggest a trip to a French restaurant for a meal of Escargot. I'm sure soon after... "Frenchie" will return to the simple pleasures of hot dogs. Occasionally console her with this: "Gertrude, we'll always have Paris."

Here's looking at you kid,

Flabby

 

Our maven of stoma advice dishes up more thought for the lovelorn and confused. Yes! It's Flabby time........

Dearest Flabby,

My stoma, "Vulvenia", & I were watching Star Trek on the telly last week. I think the show has hypnotized her. She had a pancaking incident a day later and blurted out in a flat voice "Interesting." "Call Bones to the wafer." I said... "What?!" She responded with "Vulcans keep their cool."

Then we were slowly strolling at the mall and Vulvenia suddenly exclaimed: "Bridge to Snotty... Snot here. Get us up to warp speed.. Aye, captain. I canna do it now, ion levels are weee low. Bones what do you think? Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a nuclear physicist."

And with that she burped and retracted a bit. Oh Flabby... Whatever can I do?

Molly Holly

Dear MoHo,

Your stoma is fine. Vulvenia is tired of hiding in a bag all day. She hears the telly... but doesn't get to see the rich visual experience. Her world view is clouded, isolated, bleak. Causing her to act out and recreate the tapestry of Star Trek. Let her go free once in a while.. to enjoy the sweet harmony of Spock, Bones, and my "woodie, woodie, hunk a hunk ka hunk a burnin' love" Cappy Kirk.

It's how my stoma rolls,

Flabby

Flabby is back for more! She always exclaims: .... I'm like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, don't stop me now, I'm on a roll.

Dear dear Flabby,

I'm just flummoxed! Oooh, I'm so mad.... I could just pop. Miss Trixie, my sop of a Stoma, told me I'm a bore! Furthermore, she said I lack "theology and geometry." What in heaven's name does that mean? Then she whispered: "I'd rather rejoin my friend rectum on the "inside" than spend another joyless moment with you." Shiver my stars.. oh Flabby, whatever shall I do?

Patty Poop

 

Dear Patpoo,

It's clear to me like a new Hollister bag, you need to get out more. Embrace the world. Poor Miss Trixie is stuck in a rut, (actually a wafer.. but I digress). Share a great book with her. Like A Confederacy of Dunces. You'll laugh and bond together at the misadventures of Ignatius J. Reilly. Get up.. get out.. scream and shout.

Never crabby.. yer Flabby

 

 

 

 

Fatty La Phew tackles another letter.

Dear Flabby,

I'm a huge fan, love the pertinent advice you so lovingly give. My problem is this: Godzilla, my stoma, has suddenly started blabbing politics to me! No matter what I say... he just shouts and won't shut up. Yesterday when I was changing his wafer, he blurted out "Federal Reserve tightened too late." I said "Hush!" But Flabby, he just wouldn't stop. "Opinion is," he opined, "too much easy stimulus cash is causing inflation and an asset bubble in stocks!" Oh Flabby, I snapped back on the bag ASAP. He was still carrying on, mumbling in the bag. I'm an apolitical gal from the coast, how can I get him to shut up?

Your #1 fan,

Fugale Glyarmm

 

Dear Fugly,

Godzilla needs a real-world economic lesson. Stop at the ATM this Friday. Drive non-stop to Vegas. Put it all on red. After the disappointing loss, pawn the car. Get some shut-eye. In the morning, get some grub. Then hit the slots. Later as you're riding home, tell Godzilla "this is real economics. Came to Vegas in a $40,000 car, coming home on a $300,000 bus. This will chill out Godzee.

Your sassy, classy, chunk,

Flabby

 

And now we pull the curtain back on the secretive world of Hibay clean rooms and tell tales of the misfits found toiling away in this antiseptic petri dish.

Season one: Hibay Hijinks

Many years ago, we had a technician with sticky fingers. He worked across campus in another hibay. Occasionally, he would grace us with his presence to see what we were up to and blather on about pinheaded engineers and dense bosses. Later, after he bade us farewell, we noticed one of our tools was missing. After a fruitless search, we concluded, "The bastard stole it." Yes, this prolific tech was nicknamed "The human magnet." Whenever he walked through an area, tools disappeared.

We decided to organize a posse to retrieve our vanished tool. This is a pain in the ass. We have to go back to the gowning room, take off our bunny suit, get dressed in street clothes, then hike across campus to the hibay lair of H. magnet. There, we change back into bunny suits, go through the positive ion air shower, then enter the hibay. We fan out, looking for our purloined tool. Usually, H. magnet is busy in the corner playing on the computer, not noticing our presence. Once our tool is located, we grab one of his tools (usually a torque wrench) and silently fade back into the gowning room. Once back in our home hibay, we hide the "borrowed" wrench and laugh about the confusion we have set in motion as H. Magnet will wonder "where the hell did I put it?"

As we like to say, "He's cheap entertainment"

And now a word from our sponsor.

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Coming soon to the Chronicles:

Fantasy Island. Join the mysterious Mr. Dork and his assistant DoDo....as they make dreams and wishes come true. Tune in as DoDo says: "Da bag.. Da bag."

Letters continue to pour in for our intrepid advisor to the lovelorn and stoma challenged...

Dear Flabby,

Last week my widdle rose bud stoma Constance and I returned from a wonderful Hawaiian vacation. We had the most relaxing time together. Today while changing her wafer, Constance put up such a fuss. She refused to wear her Hollister Adapt barrier ring and demanded a Puka shell necklace instead. And then wanted a Plumeria flower Lei strung over her bag. After fruitlessly trying to talk some sense into her... She said "time for a Luau... call in for a pineapple and pepperoni pizza!" Oh Flabby... Whatever can I do?

Your loyal lady,

Butrese Tuttle

 

Dear Butt,

You have given your stoma a glimpse of paradise. How can she remain trapped in a sterile wafer surrounded by a pedestrian barrier ring. No, let her dream of palm trees, warm breezes and the spirit of Aloha... and save me a slice of that yummy pizza.

Mahalo nui loa,

Flabby

 

And now, another visit to our queen of wit and wisdom... Flabby

Oh my dear Flabby,

Halloween is near, so I decided to dress up my little Stoma in a costume. His name is Vesuvius, just like the volcano. So I pondered... what would be a good costume? I thought, and thought.. then it hit me; I'll dress him up as a presidential candidate. I went to the 99 cent store for supplies. Got red, white, and blue marking pens and multicolored post-it notes. Later that night, I drew dollar signs on his wafer using the markers. Then wrote common, bogus campaign slogans on the post-it notes. Stuff like: Lower taxes, and better roads. Cheaper energy, and "a chicken in every pot." I stuck these post-it notes to his bag. And ya know, he did look like a politician! Spouting crap and hot air. I was pleased and thought he looked swell. I said Vesuvi.. you got my vote! He just sputtered at me, then retracted into his wafer and has been sulking there ever since. I tried and tried to placate him. But alas, to no avail. Finally he poked out a little and said "I'm like Popeye. I've had all I can stands, and I can't stands no more." The he tooted at me and ignored me ever since. Oh Flabby, whatever shall I do?

Your devoted disciple,

Nimona Comely Popola

Dear Nimcompoop,

Vesuvius is burned out. Too much mainstream news has turned him sullen and angry. Like my Grandpappy Joe Slappy once said: You can tell a pol is lyin', cause their lips are movin'." Let your stoma pal watch silly game shows and inane sitcoms. Soon he'll be right as rain.

Your gal pal to the stoma stumped

Flabby

Hibay Hijinks Episode 2..... The Building Manager.

One hibay I toiled away in had a nasty building manager. He looked like a chunky old Luke Skywalker with a long, unkempt grey beard (minus the "force").

We had a ceiling-mounted TV in the gowning room. We would watch the morning news as we gowned up. Manager dumshit decides to put in a DVD of an orchestra playing classical music. We protested. He said "My building, my choice." So I downloaded a TV remote app on my phone. Soon as we walked in, I changed the source and put back on the news. Being a luddite, the manager couldn't figure out how the TV was back on the news. So he changed it back to chamber music. Next day.. news was back. This went on for a week until he figured out what we were doing. His solution... ban cell phones in the hibay. We had to leave them on a table before entering. This of course... pissed us off. Revenge was plotted.

After gowning, we enter an air shower for 3 minutes. It's a long room kinda like a hallway. Once in there, the doors lock until the cycle is complete. Then only the door to the hibay opens and the gowning room door remains locked. This way contamination cannot flow into the hibay. Once the hibay door closes, the gowning door unlocks. But if you open the gowning room door just as the cycle ends, then shut it.... both doors remain locked until the system is reset. We sent the most innocent-looking technician to inform manager "Skywalker" that the air shower was malfunctioning. He soon arrived. We had a tech in the hibay slightly prop open the hibay door. This would prevent the shower from working. As manager ding-a-ling watched, I went in the shower and showed him... not working. So he gowned up, and decided to go in to see for himself. As soon as he walked in... our man in the hibay shut the door. Instantly the shower started working. Then as the cycle was ending, I opened the gowning room door slightly. Then shut it. Mr. Stupid ass was now trapped in the air shower.

We bid him farewell and took an early lunch.

We did get in trouble. Our manager, who knew all our technician tricks, was unamused.

Ok...where to begin here. These stoma chronicles of yours have me rolling with laughter! You have quite a way with words and humor, and I must admit, I felt like I was right there watching, hearing, and...smelling the adventures happen! 😂😂 And the letters, oh these letters!!!!! 🤣😂🤣 Just the names alone get me. You're hilarious to say the least.

Thank you for this, it's everything!! When my twin comes to town in a couple of weeks, I'm going to let her read these, she'll love it!

Thanks 7dragonflies!

I write stories and crazy emails at work for my friends. Also, I create technical documentation used to assemble complex satellite hardware.

I used to attend engineering meetings and sat through many mind-numbing PowerPoint presentations. So I would dream up stories to keep from falling asleep.

Got troubles? Got worries? Got a naughty stoma? It's Flabby to the rescue. Searching her trusty mailbag she selects this week's letter...

Hi ya Flabby,

I got troubles. A friend of mine stopped by for a chat last week. She's always fashionably attired and acts and talks "classy." Why, I thought for sure her stiletto high heels would punch right through my linoleum floor. And the perfume... lordy. During her visit, my stoma put up such a fuss; gurgling, hissing, and to my utter embarrassment... blowing wind! Oh, I was so mad.

Later, I sat down with Jane, my stoma, for a little talk. I'm afraid I was a little hot-tempered. In a firm voice, I said, "How dare you act like a little tart in front of my friend. And breaking wind... that was a bridge too far, little lady." And Flabby, she bellowed right back at me. She said I was plain, common, and worst of all, said I should be in the movies... Horror movies! Then she said her name sucked. And from now on, call her Garbo!

Oh Flabby, whatever shall I do?

Keeping it real in the windy city,

Julia June Benson

 

Dear JuJub,

In my younger days, I had aspirations of fame, fortune, and stardom. But being raised in a small country town, my options were limited at best. One summer at our country fair, they had a beauty contest I entered as a young lass. The judges decided every gal was so homely... the best they could award was third place! My daddy said I should stick to the pie-eating contest. But enough about Flabby.... You need to spruce your butt up. Get a new hairdo. Take an online charm class. Buy some stilettos, dammit. And get some fancy French perfume and a rhinestone-covered wafer for Garbo.

Yer never crabby, always blabby,

Flabby