In Memoriam of Farting

So, Andy and I have this strange tradition.  Given that there was a long period of time where my digestive tract was rigged to exit out of my abdomen--twice--that meant that not only poop was exiting out from somewhere other than my anus but also any air was likewise contained within the ostomy bag.  Once everything was reconnected, if Andy started to groan when I actually farted out of my own butt again, I would remind him (jokingly, of course) that it was a miracle and he should appreciate it and be happy and even grateful that I could fart again as he was trying to cover his nose with his shirt or a blanket while I was also trying to tug it off of his nose.  He takes this all in good humor. 

Now we're preparing for the permanent ostomy (whether that will be an ileostomy or a colostomy is still uncertain), it occurs to me that my farting days are numbered.  What a weird thing to feel nostalgic about.  

• No one can ever blame me for their own fart ever again, provided I don't obviously lift the flange and let out some of the air trapped therein, at which point any hypothetical accuser has asked for it, after all.  
• Since I will have no sphincter control and the ostomy site, I cannot control when it makes noises.  This offers a certain kind of freedom in refusing to feel awkward about the gurgling sounds my body makes.
• I will never have to worry about "not trusting" a fart ever again.  My pants and underwear are safe, henceforth, from sharting.

So, I'm struck with another odd question:  are there elements that I will miss about farting?  I haven't really found body humor as funny as your average bear for a while, but appreciate that there are moments where it can be amusingly timed.  Other than that, I've been wracking my brain and haven't really come up with anything other than the joy of grossing out Andy on occasion. 

What I might actually miss, though, is a particular sense of belonging that I had never realized.  I never appreciated farting until it was only coming out in a bag and then when I was routed back.  I've had the last four years or so to appreciate farting again.  I bring more attention to it with our weird "It's a miracle!" running joke, still reveling and confused all at once.  Soon, that will be one way where I'm just not "normal" anymore.  

Some of that is an illusion--my normal is going to be different just as it always has been, though in less obvious ways.  The ostomy will be under my clothes, but still a visible bulge, more apparent than my signs and symptoms used to be, and always on the back of my mind.  Sometimes, I wish that people could just look at me and know that I'm fighting this invisible battle, so that I didn't have to ask for help; other times, I'm glad that I can hide it away when I don't want to talk about it anymore.  Similarly, I've been very open about most things, but at the same time, I appreciate that I can choose when I want to be open.  The further we drift from "normal" the more intimidating it will be to discuss it and the more difficult for people to really understand.  Yet, it will also be more rewarding, bringing a stranger perspective to a normal place.  I will continue to write what is real to me.  

I imagine that I will feel a certain pang when someone farts around me (be it a tuba, a duck, a burble, a rumble, or a deflating balloon animal kind of sound); I won't belong there anymore.  I hold this brief moment, now, in memoriam of farting and all that it might imply. 

And, yes, you may giggle now.