The Truth is ….

I am now at the stage where my bowel is active and starting to work and for those of you who knew my pre-op regularity, you will know that I would probably be classed as high output.  So now that I am shitting in to a bag, the levels of production become far more meaningful.

Late yesterday afternoon, I had my first trial run changing my ‘bag for life’ with one of the nursing team.  Within a couple of hours the thing had filled up again and I was laid in bed with a couple of pounds of do-dah dangling from my tummy.  So I took it upon my self to do my first solo ‘pit-stop’ prior to bedding down for the night.  After all, the last thing you need is a midnight blow-out.

The truth is, the changing of the bag isn’t one of life’s greatest experiences, but I will get used to it.  All you people out there with functioning arseholes, take a moment today to appreciate what a fabulous bit of kit your anus is.  Oh the simple joy of sitting and just shitting.

The hospital staff are obsessed with weighing and measuring every bodily output, so this morning’s bag of joy is sat on the floor of my bathroom like a lonely and forgotten Christmas gift that no one wants to unwrap.

Anyway, at least I had my catheter removed this morning.  A cracking wake up call for a Sunday morning.

Andrew Williams

50 year old, living with his colon and bowel cancer and all that that entails. Quietly sweary, family man living in Somerset, UK.

Comments 3

  1. Greetings b.i.l ( brother in law) glad the op went ok, I have been pondering my next piece of artwork for you and your poorly broken bot bot, I shall send it on when complete, as being a professional artist ( as seen on my earlier piece) these things take time to perfect.
    Love to you and bot bot x

      1. Lament to a hole

        My sweet and peachy fruit,
        no longer through you will I toot.

        Our curried paths shall cross no more,
        the chocolate motorway has closed its door.

        The times spent upon the porcelain throne,
        and recounted all the logs we’d known.

        O’ dearest friend I wish thee well,
        no longer shall I breath in your sweet, sweet smell.

        So farewell my chum, our time was brief,
        no time to play, no time for grief.

        The chocolate starfish have gone away,
        the sheets are clean and so will stay.

        So please remember me fondly, and enjoy your rest ,
        as you my beloved anus were the best.

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