City Stickers

For a few years I was big fan of the show Grey's Anatomy. One of my fondest memories of college was taking a study break and watching the show on Sunday's (before it moved to Thursday's) with ten other girls in walk-in-closet-size dorm room. A few season's in I kind of gave up on the series, it might have been because I couldn't handle the "Into You Like a Train" episode (ew!), the overplayed-sounds-like-Snow Patrol soundtrack, or the Dr. McWhatThe? storylines. However, one of my all all-time-favorite quotes from television remains from this show:


"We're adults. When did this happen? And how do we make it stop?"

Recently I just got the renewal for my vehicle city parking sticker.

It's been one year already?

Someone page Dr. Hahn because my heart just stopped.

I feel as though I just moved in yesterday and am still getting used to "being an adult". There are days where I can't even handle it.  Rewind to last evening where I attempted to cook a frozen pizza, fell asleep on my couch, and awoke to the sounds of my blaring smoke detector. Yes, so apparently I don't know jack about cooking a Jack's.

When I first started out on my own last July 4th, I was shouting "Let Freedom Ring" from my studio window, but now I am counting the days where I get to live with my future husband. Don't get me wrong because living alone has its benefits: you can walk around in your underwear, watch whatever Bravo reality program your heart desires, and not feel ridiculous as you attempt to complete Jillian's Last Chance Workout at 5:30 AM (because seriously there's no chance I'm doing that after a long day at the office).

However, there's something to be said for cohabitation. Someone to remind you of that pizza in the oven before you doze off dreaming, someone to help you carry a month's worth of dirty laundry to your car while walking in heels, and someone to be there for you when you aren't sure if that's a centipede or cool bangle you must not have realized you purchased when you recently fell into the Gap (please let it be the bracelet!!!). In my case, I'll have someone to be there for me when I'm having a tough day dealing with the ileostomy.

So here I sit renewing my sticker for one more year and continuing the private practice of living alone. This summer I truly celebrate a new found freedom that my ostomy has given me and it has me smiling brighter then a firework. Before you know it, I'll be blogging about living with my McDreamy and avoiding a McSteamy situation of petrified pizza.

Wenda You Decide on a Name?

"Did you give your stoma a name?" A few weeks ago I was on an ostomy support group discussion board where ostomates were responding to this question. There were 84 responses of names that people had give their stoma: Lenny, Fred, Pocket Dream, Butthead, Mrs. Whoopie, Henry, Bridgett, Lilly...the list goes on.

I started wondering why anyone would name this surgical creation.  Curiousity kicked in and I did some more reasearch. I quickly found a post from a woman on another ostomy support page providing an explanation as to why so many play the "name game". She said, "Think of how many people name their cars or the movie Castaway where Tom Hanks named the volleyball Wilson." Giving a name to your stoma can make the process a little easier to deal with and help you come to terms with having this as a permanemnt part of your life.

Clear as mud. I started giving it a little more thought but I wasn't ready to give my stoma an official name. I played around with a couple...Trixie...no....Rupert...no. I put the idea away for awhile.

Last weekend I attended two graduations for my sisters. At each ceremony I received a program of all the hundreds of graduates' names.  When one was announced that I liked, I took mental note. When you really think about it, names hold so much signficance. They can define us and no matter where you hear or read anyone's name, it evokes a powerful feeling that's positive or negative.  The name "Kathleen" must have evoked a plethora of positivity for parents in the 80's, because there's a lot of us out there!

So in true loopdeloop fasion, I digress. I was passing an airplance bookstore en route to Chicago, when the chidren's books caught my eye. My thoughts went to childhood favorites...one that I always loved was "Where's Waldo". The classic series by Martin Handford doesn't offer any literary genius but did provide hours of entertainment growing up.  I remember loving when the series introduced, Wenda. She first appeared in Where's Waldo: The Magnificant Poster Book and always looses (and finds) her camera.  As we were waiting for our flight, I was looking at pictures. Flipping through photos, I was pleased that my ostomy pouch wasn't showing under any of the dresses from that weekend's celebration. My mom pointed out that she was looking for it but was in awe that she couldn't notice it at all.

Then it hit me like Wizard Whitebeards staff...I shall call her Wenda.  When she's alone and unconcealed, in her red and white, the girl sticks out like a sore thumb. However, Wenda is hard to see in the crowded scenes of sports, cavemen, and beaches. So for all you searchers out there, see if you can spot her. I dare you! But if you can, pull a Wenda and loose the camera. ;)