Hi troupes, I’m rising out of the haze that is post op. It’s the wee hours of the morning of my fourth sleep at Lismore base and I’m not the slightest bit sleepy. I downed TV tools at 11.30, played sudoku and brushed my teeth and attempted sleep at lights out. It’s now 1.20am. Bloody Nora. I had such a good sleep last night and an equally good day yet can’t bloody sleep now. I actually feel excited. How fucked is that? What’s there to be excited about? I have stitches in my date with a drainage tube coming out of it, I have a line of stitches on my tummy from my navel to my pubic bone and a stoma expelling little puffs of wind preparing for the first pooh to pop out. Eeew. But I think it’s funny. I’m seriously having a laugh with the functioning factor of this new accessory. And it’s not an embarrassing laugh, it’s a real school girl giggle that’s obviously triggering deep into the most basic section of my sense of humour. What kind of weirdo am I?
I’m lying here processing it all and can only think that it’s some form of relief playing out over the past 12 months of constant focus on my bowel movements and where the closest loo is, how much pain will I encounter, will it be ok to go multiple times, how much noise will I make, will there be toilet paper, is there soap for the wash up, will I have enough warning to allow time to reach a loo, is it a fart, will I follow through etc, etc? Ah righto, I think I’m getting it now… all of that consideration is no longer required. OMG. It’s the weight of it all that’s no longer there. I’m mentally lighter, no more daily pain. OMG that’s it. Relief, fucking relief. Amazeballs. I can get on with life, normal fucking life. Of course I know longer pooh out that orifice anymore but hey I have a new improved method that I’m at this stage, completely ok with. Sure I’ll get stares from freaks who don’t understand but that’s only if I decide to be visually loud and proud and visually flaunt it but I have smug control over that. I will decide if I want to freak some imbociles out or not – tee hee snigger snigger. I’m fucking happy.