Sex or no sex? That is the question
Gahhhh! Just writing that title makes me cringe almost as much as talking about this subject from my own perspective on a public forum but if I can talk about the literal ins and outs (ha) of my ostomy, why can’t I attempt to dialogue about….Sex?😬😳🤢
If you are familiar with me and my words you may get the idea I like to make jokes and you would be correct, I am that person that cracks wise in the most uncomfortable and bleakest situations, it’s my coping mechanism and it helps, laughter is indeed medicine and sometimes I make a lot of it in all of the most inappropriate times but clearly I am stalling, despite all of the jokes I may inevitably make, this is a hard 😜 (that’s what she said) subject to speak about for me in all seriousness.
Here it goes…
Just when I started embracing and accepting my body in my 40’s and feeling that inner cougar growling and excited I didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant anymore, the chronic and often explosive diarrhea set in, talk about a mood killer. The incidents happened here and there so my train was not fully shut down just delayed and the passengers were often inconvenienced though they could get to their ultimate destination for awhile. As you can probably imagine the train after some time, about 2 years of increasing fecal emergencies and fatigue, fully stopped and couldn’t even leave the rail yard anymore. What a literal shit show and a huge bummer…Writing about this makes me a little..Okay, a LOT sad, there have been some rough times to navigate but when you lose your love train, well that just sucks and not in a fun way, though I have never lost hope that my groove will come back eventually.
When I had to get a colostomy I thought that this really, really sucked but not worrying about accidentally loosing my bowels constantly put sexy time back on the table if I could be okay with a butthole on the front, a reverse mullet: party on the front, closed business on the back situation. I thought I could make that work and it did for a minute, or a month or so on limited routes…Until the abscesses started, train delayed indefinitely, not cool.
You might think having abscesses might not be a deal breaker and I imagine that might be the case depending on the location and how severe the infection or amount of carnage the surgery has left (in my case literally) behind but (or BUTT) let’s say that both in my case were less than ideal and extremely excessive, unless puss and blood is your kink I guarantee it would put your engine in the shop as well. I focused and keep focusing on creative endeavors, creativity lives in the pelvis and there is more than one way to skin a…Cat, ha! I know, that one was a stretch but I had to lighten this post up a little.
As I feel so much better and the two open wounds I have left are significantly smaller and the remaining seepage way less pustulant, the lights on my train are beginning to work, a little bit, the wheels are getting lubricated and though the engine isn’t sure it knows how to run I assure it that it will eventually…Hopefully. I have never lost hope that I will get that piece of me back. My husband reassures me that we will get on that train again and I say out loud “No pressure.” These things shouldn‘t be forced and it may not be without effort but it’s a nice thought right now as I walk through the dark forest on my way to the station, if I listen hard enough I can almost hear the whistle as the conductor shouts “All aboard The Butt Train!”
Until next time ❤️