Last night and a very strange thing happened. I have had to give Tom-ass a damned good talking to because he has been very naughty and disrespectful and to his credit he has listened to me and has been pretty good.
I woke up around 4 am as usual to go to the toilet and as is my custom put my hand down to feel my bag.
“Gadzooks!” I thought, or words of that ilk. There was no bag. I was naked. A stranger feeling you could not feel! I got up fearing the worst. In the bathroom I was pristine. Lifting up my pyjama shirt and expecting – shall we say – a bit of a deposit – there was nothing there! Tom-ass was clean as a proverbial whistle. I put on a new bag and with some trepidation went back into the bedroom. There was the distinctive aroma that he had been naughty and I put the light on to examine the bed. Not a spot could be seen on the sheets or the quilt cover. I looked up and down and round and round.
(Post operation and I asked the stoma nurse how you could tell if your bag had come off in the night and he said “Don’t worry – you WILL know. That night someone in the next bed has his bag go walkabout and you know what? The stoma nure was right. EVERYONE knew his bag had come off!)
I checked the floor. Nothing. Where could it be? I checked the route from bedroom to bathroom knowing full well that it was definitely not there when I was in bed. Bloody hell! What happens now?
There is a small table near to my bed with a small shelf at the bottom an there nestling poo side up was my bag! How did it get there? I haven’t got a clue but I picked it with a soil bag and sorted it out. Is Tom-ass playing tricks on me? We will probably never know but thank god I was a little, shall we say , constipated. It wouldn’t have been the first time Irene had to get up and supervise a full bed change at 4 am.
I still haven’t made my mind up about irrigation yet.
Keep smiling
Love
Drew
X
