Here are a couple things I learned from having my ostomy bag.
1. Peach tea, Berry tea, and Orange tea are yuck. Mint, Lemon, Pomegranate, or Chamomile please.
2. I leak only from the right side. Which, fortunately, is not the comfortable sleeping side. But if, accidentally, in the middle of the night, I land on the right side for more than a couple hours, hold your nose. Also, the bottom of the bag leaks yellow liquid that looks like pee, and of course the ostomy bag ends right where I would be PEEING from, so people are asking me what the yellow stuff by my "pee-pee area" is. I'm like "Oh, it's my poop. Better go empty my bag now!"
3. Nobody wants to see your ostomy bag. Nobody will ask to see your ostomy bag. Nobody has plans to see your ostomy bag. To sum it up, make sure your shirt covers your ostomy bag.
4. When you have an ostomy bag, you are no longer cute like this.
People are stopping the 'Oh, she's so cute!' thing and starting with some new, more fitting words for someone who, a. is not cute anymore, and stopped being cute around age 9, when she started wearing abercrombie, b. craps in a bag that you can sometimes see sticking out from the bottom of her shirt, and c. has yellow spots on her shorts that make people suspect that a girl who is going to be 12 in October had an accident in her big-kid underwear. People have resorted to the following, and I list telling you that people have ACTUALLY said these things to me.
"You look so good!"
"You've grown up to be so beautiful!" (Uhh, I'm 11. I don't think I've exactly grown up yet. I mean, I could be butt-ugly when I'm older for all I know.)
"You look just like you mother/nana!"
"You look just like your Aunt Wendy!" (To which I said, "Um, she's my aunt.")
"You are such a pretty girl!"
"Your face looks much better!" (Referring to the Prednisone days, where people looked at me and asked my mom what happened to me.)
"You're looking a little on the skinny side."
"Oh, my skinny girl, you look so good." (Ok, world's biggest complisult?)
"You look so different from when I last saw you!" (Ok, no, THAT is the world's biggest complisult.)
"Your face cleared up so well!"
"Oy, you're so skinny, my baby." (Obviously, you see I am eating, grandma.)
5. I recieve a lot of complisults. The best was from my crazy, obsessed-with-me, amazingly annoying Aunt Marilyn, who said these words to my face.
"Why don't you go out and see some people?"
To which I said, "Ok."
To which SHE said, "We'll put on some mascara and blush and lip gloss and you'll be all ready."
Why, thank you, Aunt Marilyn. I now know that I am so horrendously ugly that I need makeup to see people who are related to me and love me regardless.
Because I do not wear make-up, and I think they love me just fine.
6. I hate large crowds. Hate them, hate them, hate them. There are, like, 3 bazillon people here right now. And all of them, every single one, has asked me how I'm feeling, oh, let's say, 20 times per person? Yes, I'd say that's about right. I'd like to spray them with the poop inside my bag. Ok, something a little less stinky. Like, spilling Listerine on them or something.
Till the old people leave me effing alone,