We’re in 1998. I’m working for a company where profits are more important than human relations. One day, one of my colleagues comes to me and says:

"Did you know that Mr. X had colon cancer and now has an ostomy?”

• No.

• Didn’t you notice that it doesn’t smell good when he enters your office?

• No.

(end of the discussion)

I remember having done research on the internet to find out what an ostomy was exactly. Mr. X was kind and generous. He was charming, always well dressed and smelled really good.

Just before returning to work after surgery in 2018, I remembered that old conversation with my insensitive colleague.

We’re in 2018. I’m returning to work after my long sick leave, with this strange thing, that requires a lot of attention, on my belly. I must admit I'm afraid... Should I tell anyone or not? Should I reveal that part of my private life or not?

Today, I’m fortunate to work in a health-related workplace. Everyone there knows what an ostomy is, but few of my colleagues know that I have one. For example, I shared it with my manager as my sick leave was longer than expected. In fact, I had a post-surgical complication that made the sitting position unbearable for me. My desk then had to be adapted to allow me to sit and stand alternately. My immediate office neighbor also knows about it. Another person who heard an involuntary "toot" while I was speaking to him knows it too, as well as my close friends. I proudly assume this difference on my belly. However, I still live with fear of improper gas during a work meeting, in the bus, at the movies, etc. Thankfully, that fear doesn’t define me.

Because I’m strong, and stronger than the disease I’m living with, I decide what I say and to whom I say it. We’re in 2019 and I have learned. My ostomy is chubby, all pink and beautiful. Today, I would never tolerate that a colleague, as insensitive as the one I talked with in 1998, comes to me and say: "Did you know that Mr. X has an ostomy?" We don’t choose our difference. It's an imposed choice. Awareness in our society is a good thing. Now, I know what it's like to live with a major difference. Living with the fear of judgment is often more difficult than simply accepting it. At least, in my case.

I would tell anyone who lives with a major difference that it brings us to an expanded openness, forges our resilience, and guides our imagination to be ready for anything, with more than one trick in our bag.

Bag. That word makes me laugh. I have an anecdote for you, if you ever meet a French person from Europe. Last summer, we went to Brittany and my boyfriend’s cousin, to whom I was talking about my travel worries related to my ostomy, asked me:

• "A what? An ostomy?"

  (moment of silence)
  And then he realised:

• “Oh! A pouch! Of course, a pouch!

I’m an ostomate and will be for the rest of my life. Some people have blue eyes, others have a long nose. I have a pouch! And I do smell good!

 Monique

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