MY TUPPERWARE FRIEND
My first « Tupperware » story began at the age of nine. That was how my mother explained to me how a bag worked when I was little. This funny side runs in the family.
One morning, in a tiny bathroom where four girls had to get ready to go to school, my mom noticed blood in my stools before I flushed the toilet (I didn’t know the meaning of modesty back then tee hee). I was then asked a series of questions, as blood in the stool of a nine year old girl is rather worrisome. Our family physician was rather puzzled as I was feeling no pain at the time. They even asked if a man had hurt me. The verdict was in two months later: I suffered from ulcerative colitis. We were familiar with this disease, as my mother’s brother suffers from it.
Everything went down quickly in less than two years: more blood in my stools and more pain, mixed with strong cortisone doses (and big puffy cheeks). Flagyl, suppositories, enemas, repeated colonoscopies, multiple school absences and several hospitalisations got the better of my intestine when I was 11 years old (not to mention the multiple IV stands races in the Ste-Justine’s hospital corridors with my roommates). No treatment could help me now.
I only had one option left… a temporary ileostomy. By undergoing it, I would be free from all the pain! It wasn’t a tough decision to make, and I was looking forward to the day of the surgery. I even remember being so proud that when my family would visit me, I would lift the blankets to show them my awesome liberating “Tupperware”! The best thing was that I could finally eat everything I wanted… or almost everything, I had to watch out for peanuts!
It was a small shock for my mother at first. For a mother, it’s difficult to see her little girl with an ostomy bag, despite all the jokes made. They also think the worst about what the other kids will say, and about how can their chid live their life normally. But when my mother saw the benefits of the bag and how it allowed me to do anything, she started seeing it differently.
I had an excellent teacher the following year. She explained to my classmates why I was away, and asked them to take care of me when I would return. They took her words very seriously, as I remember them vigorously defending me when a younger student called me a “failed intestine”, tee hee! My teacher asked me to do a class presentation and explain what an ostomy bag is in my own child/pre-teen words. I most likely owe my confidence and the ease I have to be myself to her.
One year after undergoing an ileostomy, I was finally ready to undergo phase one of the reattachment process (preparation). I was really excited, even though I never viewed my bag negatively. At the end of the year, I developed minor flesh eating disease under my bag, because of my allergy to the glue and the ruffs’ fabric. Everything ended well, hopefully! Surgeons made a J-shaped pouch with a small part of my intestine, and I kept my ileostomy. They wanted to let everything sit for a month, and then they would proceed with phase 2 of the surgery, when I was 12 years old. Bye-bye my “Tupperware” friend!
Unfortunately, this was the worst part of my story. They did warn me that it would be difficult at first, but I never expected going back to reality was going to be so painful! I was literally going to the bathroom 50 times a day. I even slept with my pillow on the toilet, as it was impossible for me to hold it in. And I’m not even mentioning my major weight loss (I was weighing 82 pounds), the quantity of Immodium I had to take, my butt bleeding because of the massive irritation, the impossibility to ever leave the house, my strict diet, etc.
This horror story lasted for about four months. I got a little better, but my health never got back to a level considered normal by doctors. I still hoped that everything would be pleasant again, and I missed the time when I felt like a normal human being with my bag friend!
Next part coming soon!