Colostomy

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I have a temporary colostomy. I've had it for two months. This is my story. On August 29th, I flew to Raleigh, NC to visit my brother for the Labor Day Weekend. While getting ready to leave for the airport, I experienced sharp pains in my right side that quickly went away. I made my flight and generally felt like crap for the entire flight. My brother picked me up at the airport and remarked that I looked like "sh**". I said, "Thanks Man, good to see you too, a**hole!" We arrived at his house and I went straight to bed feeling like death on a cracker. The sharp pains returned and I wrote them off as trapped gas pains. I had a Nissen Fundoplication in April of 2003 to repair my faulty LES. Since that surgery, I had experienced pains that would come and go. My Doc called them trapped gas pains. I flopped around in bed like a dying fish and the day turned into night. I finally took some Demerol and crawled back into bed. At 2am on August 30th, the pain became severe and I stumbled into the main hallway to locate some help. I suspected that my appendix had burst. I clearly needed to go to the ER and fast. I located my parents on the 2nd floor of the house, woke them up and asked them to take me to the hospital ASAP. They hopped up and threw on some clothes. Being strangers to the Raleigh area, we did not know the way to the Hospital. We woke up my brother who decided to go with us to show us the way. My father who is the most law abiding man in the world and also not real good in a crisis, decided that we would drive. Remember, it's after 2am in the morning and there is no traffic on the roads and no cops. My Dad stopped at every fu**ing stop light and went the posted speed the entire 18 mile drive to the Hospital. Meanwhile, I'm in the passenger seat, screaming bloody murder and quite sure that I was dying. Still he poked on down the road. Unfu**ing believable. We finally arrived at WakeMed Medical Center in Cary. The ER staff rushed me in and immediately started to work on me. They wanted me to drink a barium milkshake and get a CT scan. I refused. I knew that if my appendix had indeed burst, the last thing I need was more goo leaking into my abdomen. A doctor with severe bed head showed up. This was Dr. Canaly and

he was my new best friend. He rushed me into the OR and I faded away wondering if I had on clean undies.. At 6am on August 31st, I woke up in a hospital room and hurt like a mo-fo. I asked a very pretty nurse for some pain meds and was given vicodin which did the trick. Later on, Dr. Canaly came in and informed me that my appendix had indeed ruptured and I had almost died in the OR. Deciding that life was too short to die in North Carolina, I set my sights on getting out of there. I was released four days later and returned to my brother's house to eal. All I remember was fading in an out on pain meds while my brother and his girlfriend would come and go to work. I would get up occasionally and eat but not much. They have two little Sheltie dogs who bark ALL the go**amn time and they kept me on edge. The pain was still very severe and I suspected that I still had problems. On Saturday, September 6th, I flew back to Nashville, TN. While waiting for my flight in Raleigh, the ticket agent gave me a pass to get on the plane early because I looked so fu**ing bad. I boarded the plane, ate four vicodin and drank three rum and cokes. Still, I felt pretty damn bad. My wife picked me up in Nashville and we returned to our home. More pain meds and sleepy days came and went. I returned to work a week later and was pretty damn useless. I was very lethargic and still in pain. I am a Network Administrator and that's not a good job to have when your fu**ed up on codeine. After three miserable days, I made an appointment to see my primary care doctor. My doctor sent me in for an X-Ray and they found a HUGE pocket of "free air" in my chest cavity. This was the source of my pain. At first they thought that it was left over gas from my appendectomy but then ruled that out. The question was. "Where is the air coming from?" My pain became unbearable and they shot me full of morphine and sent me down for a CT scan with contrast. The results showed nothing. A team from the Trauma OR came up and took over my case. They decided that they would keep me on a morphine pump and observe me for five days. They also made me NPO which means no food no water. My very own circle of Hell on Earth was just beginning.

Vanderbilt University Hospital is a HUGE facility it spans many square blocks and is a city unto itself. Still, on that ill-fated day, they did not have a room for me. They were at full capacity. After many phone calls, they rolled me up to the Trauma Holding Area which was on the top floor directly under the helicopter pad. I was in a large glass room with several other people who from the looks of them, had problems bigger than mine. Every one of them looked just awful and had all manner of hoses and wires sticking out of all their holes. And they were all exposed in one way or the other. I suppose dignity is a big No-No in Trauma. The Trauma Nurses, or "Trauma Mommas" as I dubbed them were just incredible. They found me a spot and hooked up my morphine pump and left me alone for the most part. Since I was not in real trauma, I did not need much care. I was content to hit my "magic button" and drift away under the din of the helicopters coming and going. Although I was never there, I dreamt of Viet-Nam.. It turned out that every other patient in Trauma Holding were attempted suicides. One lady had stabbed herself SEVEN times, on girl had overdosed and shot herself in the heart only to miss and scramble both lungs and her collar bones. There was also a guy who had jumped off a three story building and shattered both legs. There was an illegal alien who had stabbed herself in the stomach and tore up her guts and another elderly lady that did the same. What a bunch of freaks, I had to get out of there. On the next day, at my request, they moved me. The hospital was still full and there were no private rooms available. Unfortunately, they moved to the Pediatric Burn Unit. This unit was full of little burned kids. My heart sank. The screams I heard in there bright tears to my eyes. There is nothing worse in this world that a child needlessly suffering. My problems, whatever they were, paled in comparison to every child in that unit. I stayed in my bed and hit my pump and did nothing else for two days. The nursing staff woke me up every hour to check my vitals. Although heavily drugged, I could tell that I needed some good sleep. On the third day at 1am, I was awakened by a huge ruckus in the unit. I learned that a nursing home in the Nashville area had caught on fire and almost 60 elderly people had been injured and were on their way to Vandy.

Every non-critical bed was needed and that meant I was being moved yet again. They moved me to a private room finally. At last I could sleep. I spent a day and a half there and was visited by several dear friends. By this time my tolerance for Morphine had increased and I was needing more or more to ease my pain. I was also getting very hungry because I had not eaten since the morning that I was admitted. For reasons unknown, they moved me across the hall to another room. I was finally given clear liquids and the some solid food. Still I was in pain. Despite my increasing pain the docs took me off my pump and gave me oral pain meds that were on a schedule. I could only have them per the schedule and the Gestapo nurses were not real nice or sympathetic. As the morphine faded away, my pain was starting to take on a life of its own. Later that night, my pain became unbearable. Although my blood pressure was through the roof and I was screaming, the go**amn nurses would not give me a pill because it wasn't time. I felt like I was dying on the field at Gettysburg but I was actually in the year 2003 in a state of the art hospital. My wife showed up and gave those nurses down the road. I believe the words she called them rhymed with "hunt". After three hours of agony, the charge nurse called my doctor and he gave the OK for massive pain meds. I told every nurse that crossed my path what I thought of them and their lack of care. The Head trauma surgeon came up to see me. He informed me that I as being rushed to the OR for emergency exploratory surgery. While on the way down to the OR, a huge car wreck happened somewhere in the city. There were eight critically wounded people and I was bumped from the OR. Remember, I was in extreme agony and here I had to wait even longer. They rolled me down to the Trauma OR Waiting and I saw an angel for the first time in my life. The charge nurse that night was named Tammy. She saw my obvious discomfort and shot me up with Delodid and promised more if I needed it. The drugs were making me sweat and she brought over a small fan to cool me off and some ice chips. She seemed very concerned about my pain level and made sure that I was comfy. I stayed there for three hours and stayed pain

free the entire time thanks to her efforts. Someday, I decided, I would come back and thank her properly. Finally, I was rolled into the OR, moved myself onto the operating table and asked them to please get the ball rolling. I faded away as the night turned into day. When I awoke, I was miserable. I was on oxygen, had a nasal gastric tube, a catheter, and 18" incision down the middle of my chest AND a colostomy. The colostomy really freaked me out. Depression set in and I fell back asleep. The surgeon came in later and told me they found over 19 holes in my colon and that they removed 10" of it. He also said that the colostomy was temporary and would be reversed in 90 days. After four horrible days, I was finally released to go home. I have been at home ever since and even though I can now change my wafer in record time, I still struggle mentally with this colostomy. It keeps me from leaving the house most of the time and is quite dehumanizing. I hate it. I cannot imagine this on a permanent basis. I have left the house on a few occasions to see a movie or do some XMAS shopping. But, I am always afraid of having an accident in public. I have had numerous accidents at home and they are always very traumatizing. Having to deal with ones sh** on such a close and personal level is too much for me too handle. I don't want to make love to my wife with this go**amn bag in the way and I don't sleep too well. Showering sucks and I can't wear my normal pants due to the stoma being so low on my abdomen. I wish that I had sought some help about this colostomy related depression. I am a different person and I am not the man that I was. Still, I have learned a few things that may help some of you. 1. Get the bags with the charcoal filter. No need to burp your farts with these. But if the filter gets wet, the ole bag will swell up like a tick in a dog's ear. 2. Try the 2-pc system that you just change out the bags. Those bags with the clip really suck and don't work too well. 3. Get a colostomy belt especially if you venture out of the house. A full bag of poo weighs a lot and can pull itself off of the wafer and turn into a sh** bomb. I used to kid around that I lost 5lbs every morning, it really does weigh very close to five pounds some mornings.

4. Keep several wafers precut and ready to go 5. By the ziplock bags with the slider things. These are a great way to get your full bags out of sight and away from delicate noses. Make sure you squeeze out all of the air to keep them from pooping in the garbage. 6. Organize your supplies in your bathroom and inventory them often. 7. Take you time putting on the wafer and press hard to make a good seal. 8. Don't drink ANYTHING carbonated, you'll be sorry 9. If your bag is full in the AM go ahead and take a shower with it on but be sure to seal up all four edges of the wafer with water proof tape. After showering, pull of the bag, put on a new one and you're good to go. My resection surgery is scheduled for 1/9/03. I have to have a barium enema tomorrow and a couple of CT Scans. I am dreading this with all my being but it is a necessary evil I suppose. Good luck to all of you out there with colostomys. My heart goes out to each and everyone of you. Thom http://www.ostomates.org/stories/052.html

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