Permanent Changes--No Peterson Baby, Folks

I have made permanent choices for myself before, the kind of elements that leave a lasting effect on the rest of one's life.  There are events you pick for yourself--such as whether or where you seek higher education--and people that you respond to--such as the friends you keep and whom you love--that certainly shape your life and world, all framed by some of those choices, but there is something very different when it comes to making permanent changes to your body.

There are a few situations where my best choice involved surgery, most notably my choice to have a permanent ostomy as my best course of treatment for my disease.  The choice was purely in my court (with all of my doctors, thankfully), and I could have languished a bit longer, but this was the best decision for my quality of life.  I do not regret it.  Still, all of the rationale and logical backing do not prepare anyone for actually scheduling the date.  There's something that hits home there in a way that I still cannot prepare myself for, even after four or five surgeries.  To a lesser extent, there's still that harsh reality that settled in when I made my tattoo appointment and my Lasik surgery date.  Neither of these two examples were as drastic as my permanent ostomy, but the permanence and recognition that my sense of self was going to have to change with it, that is still a lot to process and digest.

In this vein, I have made another permanent choice in my life:  I have decided that I will never complete a pregnancy; I will never have a biological child.

Nope. Not changing my mind on that one.

And, yes, that even means that were I to become pregnant despite all of my precautions, I would probably get an abortion.  Here's why:  everyone I have talked to that has gone through pregnancy acknowledges that there were permanent, unexpected changes to their body afterward (pelvic floor, vaginal tears, etc.); I have talked to many women that have felt they could not talk about their real frustrations with motherhood and/or any frustrations they had while being pregnant because of social pressures and/or dismissal of those concerns; I have three qualified specialists familiar with me and my case say, on no uncertain terms, that I would have a high risk pregnancy situation if I was able to carry at all; and most importantly, particularly coupled with that high risk situation, going through a pregnancy would absolutely emotionally destroy me.

I mean that last one in particular.  Emphatically.  It would break down all the things that make me who I am, and I would be in agony for (best case scenario) nine months, let alone the recovery time and the significant period of sleep deprivation afterward.  It would have physically killed me at other points in my disease and my life.  Every time I have something as mild as a stomachache, there is a series of mental gymnastics that I go through, where I'm worried that this is something that I need to address immediately because it is the first symptom of another Crohn's flare up.  Every.  Time.  Now, couple that will all of the weirdness that happens to a body that is pregnant.  No thanks.  I cannot willingly subject myself to something that uncertain.  I think this could easily foster resentment to hypothetical child, too, which is three kinds of unfair to hypothetical child.  Even if all of my Crohn's symptoms went away and did not play "catch-up" after and I had that child here in my arms, nope, I cannot say that it outweighs all of the things that could go terribly, terribly wrong.

**I want to emphasize that these are my reasons, but no one needs to have ANY or all of these in order for their decision to not have children be valid.  Full stop.**  No one needs to ride the monogamy escalator for the sake of riding it.  

I have analyzed my wants.  I have analyzed my needs.  I have analyzed my goals, emotional and otherwise.  A biological child is not in the cards for me.  There's some emotional processing to do with that yet, but this is the right decision for me.  Even harvesting eggs is a process, involving many appointments, shots, and drama.  This is not to say that I haven't had doubts, but I know that I have made my decision in this.  Adoption is not off the table, but I will never carry a child.

What does Andy think of this?  Let's ask:

Andy, what do you think of this?
I think that, I mean, it's your body and your decision and I'm glad to be a part of it.  I do not want to put you at risk.  The choice between a hypothetical child and you living, I'm going to choose you every time.  

So, what does that mean for you?
Well, it means that my dreams need to change.  I dreamed of having biological children, passing on traits of my family and yours, seeing my or your eyes reflect back at me through a child's eyes.  If that's not a possibility, then I feel a large responsibility to see that you're kept safe, that [a pregnancy and/or abortion] is not something that we have to deal with.

What do mean by "large responsibility?"
If I am going to stand by my words and say that I won't put your life in danger, then it is up to me to take steps to ensure that [a pregnancy] doesn't happen.  You have decided that you will not complete a pregnancy; I support and respect that decision.  It's OUR responsibility TOGETHER to ensure your safety.  As such, given the various options available in birth control and their associated risks, the most logical step for me was to get a vasectomy.  It's a simple procedure; it's safe; it's effective; and it's FAR less likely to have complications than any permanent solutions for women.  

I love you, in case you weren't sure.  How was the vasectomy?
I can't say it was the most pleasant fifteen minutes of my life.

Only fifteen minutes?
Yep.  For all of the "oh God I can't believe you're doing that?!" from society/friends, it really was not a big ordeal at all.

Are there any details you feel comfortable sharing with us?
Yes, I am more than happy to discuss anything and everything.  What do you want to know?

How long before you could start walking normally and not like a cowboy?
[laughs and puts on best John Wayne voice] Well, pilgrim, I would say from start to finish, um, maybe a week and half?  The worst of it was certainly over in a week.

What was the worst of it?
The worst of it was feeling like you'd just gotten a "dinger" for a week.  So, any time I had to move/walk it was a careful process.  

After that week, any other noticeable symptoms or issues?
The tenderness goes down more and more each day, but otherwise, no.  To be perfectly blunt, everything functions as expected, normal.  

Any suggestions for anyone considering a vasectomy?
I would say, first off, don't get scared by what other people try to put in your head about it.  It is simple.  It is truly not a big deal.  With a skilled urologist, you're out in fifteen minutes.  It's a simple process.  In regards to recovery, follow doctor's orders, don't take things too fast, and get yourself some bags of frozen peas.  Those will be your best friend.  I'm happy to be a resource for those with questions, too, if anyone needs the gory details.  Depending on how active your job is, you may want to think about taking a few days off, just until the initial tenderness goes down.  Oh, and one more piece of advice is to get some supportive underwear--any sort of wiggle is uncomfortable for the first few days.  If you can "contain" yourself, your recovery would be much more manageable.

Anything else you would like to say about the process?
Make sure you and your partner have discussed the permanency of this.  While vasectomies can be successfully reversed, it's not a guarantee.  Act as though it is a permanent change.  

Speaking of communication between partners, is there anything else you'd like to mention?
["Oh yeah" sound in the back of the throat] While it isn't something that you're guaranteed to run into, many offices might require your spouse to be present or sign a waiver to consent to the procedure, knowing that it will make you sterile.  It was an interesting point of empathy for me, to go in that moment "oh, holy crap, this is what it's like to not have full autonomy over my own sexual well-being."  

Anything else at all you'd like to say to the people?
While I've greatly appreciated the support of my confidants and friends, I've more than once heard the phrase "hero" as part of this decision, and I don't feel that it's well-deserved.  Taking care of each other, keeping each other safe and healthy, that's an inherent responsibility in a committed relationship.  All I did was take the best possible step to make sure that happens.  I guess what I'm trying to say with that is men taking responsibility for their part [in pregnancy] should not be such a rarity.  

Thank you for being a wonderful human being and partner.
[uncertain] Thanks.  [brightening] Happy to be in this together with you!

i Canz Game?

My older brother David got an original Nintendo Entertainment System for Christmas one year.  I remember watching him play Mario, specifically, controlling the little man jumping along the screen.  For a time, David would pass one of my parents the controller to get past some of the tricky parts.  I only have a few memories of when we lived in Witt (we left when I was five), but this is one of them.  David would get other systems and other games as time went on, and over time it became a ritual for us, that I would experience the story with him, watching as he did all of the mechanics.  He'd do the level grinding and other tedious pieces on his own, but then he'd let me know when he was back to the story. 

I didn't tend to do much playing--some of this was simply the nature of the games David liked to play and anything that was a verses situation, it was only fun losing to someone that had that much more experience so many times before I was ready to do something else.  There was one particular mini-game that we played where Yoshi was spitting watermelon seeds that I was able to win every fifth time or so, but otherwise, I would perhaps play a cooperative piece occasionally, watching all other times.  

My younger brother Mike eventually, too, started to show interest in video games and the two of them would talk shop, once they hit a certain age.  I knew the stories and characters that they were dealing with, but in my brain I labeled video games as "my brothers' thing."  Watching them could be mine but playing them was not.  There were a few games like Super Smash Brothers that got the family involved, though my lack of practice again meant that I would find my limit and then stop before getting too frustrated or otherwise being ready to move on to the next thing.  These were skills that I wasn't invested in developing.  Sure, I could spend time to sort out how to grab and throw an opponent, but it was my brothers' thing and I had other was I wanted to invest my time.  

Andy is a video game fan--he and my brothers and members of his family and several friends of ours will get excited about new video games coming out, discuss and recommend games to each other, and altogether bond about these experiences.  I only have these peripherally.  This means sometimes I could contribute, if it was a question about story or character, but there were other times I would go find something else to do for a few minutes or tune it out for a little while.  I was content to let people have their joy; that didn't mean there weren't times I felt left out.  There's one video game franchise that I REFUSE to have anything to do with because of overexposure to conversations I didn't understand and how much it has been overhyped to me (namely, the entire Final Fantasy series).  As game systems continued to get more advanced, learning all of the different skills and vernacular had more requirements, too, more elements to remember and figure out.  

"Just hit that button for me."

"Which button?  Where the HELL is a Z button?"

It was my brothers' thing or my friends' thing.  I had rented a Gameboy and Pokemon Yellow from Blockbuster a couple of times and gotten through the first couple of gyms and that was the entire limit to my personal experience until I was about twenty-five.  But there have been a couple of elements that changed that:  I had a friend introduce me to a series that was essentially a game about time management, making things by gathering ingredients and completing tasks rather than hitting buttons in the perfect sequence to get across the hill before you could continue.  A couple of years later, Andy bought me my own Nintendo 3DS (which I still called a Gameboy)--I had some doubts but eventually was lined up with some good games that I could enjoy.  Monster Hunter was given to us by a friend, and I remember thinking "that's nice of them; I'm never going to play this."  But I did give it a try--playing it with people made a world of difference, that it was a social thing, and soon I was suggesting it as an evening activity.  There were still moments when I would be told to do a specific function and I had to repeat that I had no clue how to raise a shield or how to check my inventory or negotiate my camera angle or whatever else, but it was fun to contribute and be a part of the adventure..  

Whelp.  Recently, I have taken a big step further:  I have been playing Borderlands 2 with Andy on the PS4.  If that doesn't mean much to you, no worries--I am going to impart some of the basics that I have learned, through the lens of a beginner.  There are so many pieces of basic terminology and fundamental skills that I simply have had no context for; there is a level of knowledge that non-gamers simply take for granted.  

Let's start with the video game controller itself.  **Note that the following observations are for this game only at this time, but there are elements that are, I'm told, consistent for other games, too.

So, there are two joysticky thingies.  One of those changes what direction you are looking in and one changes the direction that you're moving in.  This is hard to figure out how to make it work for you.  I have walked into many, many walls while looking to the side.  They also click when you press them down.  This is needed to do some tasks--I call it "clicky the sticky." Officially they're called L3 and R3 for the left side one and the right side one; I will forever call it clicky the sticky.  

There are the special shape buttons.  They do different things and there are usually prompts for "Press O to cancel" or something similar.

The cross on the left side, that's the "d" pad, short for directional pad.  This can move you around sometimes, particularly on controllers that don't have the joysticky thingies.  In the game I'm playing, it does a lot for shortcuts and such.  

There are two buttons at the top there, one right above the triangle, on the outside edge of the controller and one matching on the opposite side.  These are called the shoulder buttons sometimes or L1 for the left side one and R1 for the right side one.  

There are two button type things underneath those that are called triggers, and even more specifically L2 and R2.  These buttons turn a bit when you press them in, like pulling a trigger, compared to the other buttons which only depress down.  

The black rectangle is something that you can push down, too, to do different things.  The button between the stickies with the weird logo takes you back to the main screen entirely.  I have never used the two small black buttons on either side of the big rectangle.  

So here's a scene from the Peterson Household:  

(Both Petersons are seated on the couch, facing the TV and holding PS4 controllers.  LARISSA is holding her controller with a look of uncertainty.  ANDY has his controller in one hand with a practiced comfort.)

LARISSA:  How do I shoot?

ANDY:  R2, right trigger

LARISSA:  (blank stare followed by trying to turn the controller to assess what piece that is)

ANDY:  (noticing the confusion, holding up his controller and indicating with his index finger)  This part.

LARISSA:  There we go!  (Accidently hits the button that throws a grenade)  Ahh!  Run!

ANDY:  (with great patience)  It's okay.  I can revive you.  See that little diamond on your map?  That's where we're going.

LARISSA:  (peering at the screen trying to locate the map in question)  I managed to walk forward this time while moving my head in the direction I wanted to.

ANDY:  That's great, honey.

Aaaaaaaand Scene.  

There's a lot of knowledge that Andy takes for granted, but he has been a very patient teacher.  However, the weirdest part for me has been reassessing that this is something that isn't just Andy's hobby or my brothers' hobby, that it's something I don't have to be good at (at ALL) to still participate in.  I'm still not confident enough, though, to open up to playing with a wider group--I will slow everyone down right now, and while I trust the people I would play with to be patient with that, I also want them to enjoy their time as much as possible, at least until I have walking figured out.

I have to reassess what I thought I was capable of.  I have to reassess what might be worth trying even though I am several years behind many others in skill level and experience.  I have no muscle memory, but I have the opportunity to sight-read new things, make connections in my thirty-two year old mind that are new and exciting to explore.  I also have an increased awareness that I cannot assume that everyone has the same set of skills and/or baggage that I might expect them to in different situations.  My proximity to gamers has not given me knowledge in the practice of gaming; someone's proximity to a situation may not imply their ability to conduct themselves through it.  Andy has the opportunity to share something that he loves with me, and he has the opportunity to see different facets through my eyes as part of that, to re-experience some of those elements.  It's been an interesting adventure...and definitely cathartic to bust up some bad guy hideouts in the midst of our stressful summer season.  

Sometimes, There are Things I cannot Blog About

It happens every now and again that there are large things happening in my life that I cannot talk about publicly in such a place as this blog.  This can be for a good handful of reasons including, but not limited to, the following:

• It's not my story to tell
• It involves personal information from someone that I cannot mask well and/or do not have permission to post (which can also include not wanting to put that person in a place where they are not comfortable with saying yes but don't want to disappoint me)
• I can't find a coherent way to approach something that needs a lot more delving, that the thoughts won't organize for some reason
• There are elements that affect my job that I cannot discuss publicly
• There are elements that affect my personal relationships that I cannot discuss publicly

I have a weird cognitive dissonance when it comes to these reasons and my personal blog.  On the one hand, this is my blog, where I reserve the right to say what I will.  On the other hand, there are still boundaries (personal, relational, and social) that I need to respect.  There have been big things in my life recently that I have not been able to work through as a result of this tension.  My blog is one of my favorite tools for processing some of these big life things.  When the nature of those things means that they cannot be posted for the above or other reasons, I feel stuck.  Yes, I could absolutely write something up and not post it, but I do very much covet my writing time as it stands--it's difficult to dedicate the small writing time that I have to work on something that I cannot share, possibly ever.  There would still be merit in the creation and the processing, but if I can at least ensure that I have something for my self-imposed deadline first, that's where I tend to direct my energy.  

BUT I do have something now that I can finally discuss:  I have applied for, interviewed, and have since accepted a promotion at work.  I am a team manager now.  There's a lot to unpack in that.  I feel that I'm a healthy level of excited and anxious, that I have an idea of what I'm getting into and  will find a few surprises yet.  I am confident in my ability to figure things out as I go and to be cognizant of the politics of it all; I know there are going to be a few stumbling moments as I get my feet underneath me.  

I'm frustrated that it wasn't something I felt I could discuss here.  I wanted to bring folks in on that thought process, to talk about why I was thinking about it, what I was excited about, how the interview went, how as the time stretched out to hear back I was certain that they had offered to another applicant, and the swirl of emotions when I was asked with no additional context to call the branch manager when I was able to (I was onsite all last week), knowing that it was really good or really not.  There were probably a few social boundaries that I could at least bend a bit, particularly considering that I was applying within my same company (and a number of internal folk had already asked me if I was planning on applying for it, when our existing manager retired), but there was an element that felt should be hush-hush, at least publicly.  I talked about it relatively freely with anyone that asked, though.  So I was being very honest with anyone that asked the right questions but not broadcasting anything, in short.  

It feels weird to not discuss something this potentially huge on my blog, while at the same time I understand the reasons not to.  But I'm very relieved to be able to discuss this much more openly and share in this new opportunity.  Inevitably this will beget some of the same problem, where I want to share my experiences as I figure things out, but I also will not be able to reveal specifics, protect privacy of individuals and districts I work with, or discuss internal company concerns.  I recognize that's baggage I'll carry no matter where I work.  There will be times when I choose to bend those unwritten rules (though outright ignoring them is unlikely) and times when a filter is more necessary than I would like.  

For now, at least, I can stop hiding this piece of it:  manager training officially starts today!

Updates to our Home!

Andy and I are steadily asserting our personality into our home, making changes and venturing into decorations and the like that reflect us and who we are.  We're getting bolder as we go.  It started with a bit of painting.  Then, a couple of adventures in plumbing fixtures, minor first and then something a bit larger.  Those small changes though, definitely encourage me to keep thinking further.

Final Step:  BASK

We cut pieces out of the baseboard and trip of a room to put up a Murphy bed--we finally have a guest bed again!  This is a LOT more than a couple of picture frame nails in the wall.

Hidden bed is hidden. :)

There are two large projects that occur to Andy and I:  firstly, we want to build a closet space in our bedroom.  Originally, the master bedroom was upstairs, but we had a vision for the guest bed space they had in the basement, mainly extending it out and also granting us main access to a bathroom, instead of theoretically sharing it with the other bedrooms.  I especially needed the comfort of the latter.  Building a closet shouldn't be too bad in terms of cost and time, just the deciding and a bit of rewiring before the studs become actual walls.  I think the framing could easily be done in a day, but the rest might be over a few weeks, stretching out as time necessitates.  I have barely considered what color we should paint it.  The idea, though is sound:  we're extending out on a wall that is just dead space right now.  It should work like a dream.  It'll be annoying to do (like putting in 110 individual stencils on a wall kind of annoying) but not hard.  

But the second idea, that's a bit more ambitious.  The downstairs bathroom is a hallway that happens to have plumbing elements.  

Functional but not exactly exciting

We want to extend this out, blowing out the wall just next to that new closet and extending into that room's dead space, and give ourselves a larger, nicer bathroom.  For as much of my life as I need to spend in a bathroom, I want to enjoy this space at least a little bit.  We're thinking freestanding tub and separate shower.  And, yes, we're finding very quickly that if we wanted to sink a lot of money into this, oof, we certainly could.  This is definitely a long term project.

In addition to asking myself what I wanted in this space, I then began to think of my own personal needs in this camp--what would I like to make my life easier?  I want somewhere to keep all of my ostomy supplies and to have sufficient counter space to prep and perform bag changes easily.  Good start, sure.  But can we take it further?

Currently, when I empty out my ostomy bag, I squat or kneel in front of the toilet, balancing as I open the end closure of the bag, and empty it into the bowl, as close to the water as I can to keep splashback to a minimum.  My knees are not going to tolerate that forever.  What kind of fixture or addition could I add to make this process easier?  Springing off of the last blog post, how can I actually design this bathroom for me and my future needs?  Could I retrofit a bidet of some kind at waist height to clear these parts out?  Or maybe another hovering toilet that is elevated on platform that is open on the side?  Maybe a toilet on a pedestal where there are no steps on one side?  I honestly don't know.  We've got some time to figure it out, but I want to put a lot of thought into this.  This is a facet where I don't care about resale value.  I don't have any bathroom in the world that is designed for my ostomy needs--why not create one in my own home?

Any ideas are welcome, folks!

Bathroom Wars

I don't care much for passive aggression.  It rankles me in particular ways.  Couple that with some sensitivity regarding my needs for the bathroom, and, well, we have an incident.  

Our office shares the bathroom with two other companies, which has four stalls and two sinks.  I have a favorite stall in the bathroom at the office.  Everyone has a favorite stall, I think, even if no one talks about it.  I like the first stall, for no particular reason except that it's my usual stall.  I sat down one day recently and noticed that there was a notice taped to the back of the door:

"Sometimes a second flush IS necessary..."

I was instantly furious.  It still pisses me the hell off.  

In the first place, yes, that's passive aggressive.  The intent is to shame someone into behaving a certain way instead of making a direct ask.  The emphasis on "is" and the ellipsis, yeah, it's definitely doing that.  It is implying that there is a correct way to behave and expecting you to adhere to an unwritten rule.  Strike one.

Part the next, I took this as a personal attack immediately.  That's on me, but here's why:  I have not had a "solid" poop in eight-plus years.  Truly.  Think about the last time you had diarrhea--did everything go down the toilet the first time you flushed?  Maybe, maybe not.  I do not have two feet of large intestine, meaning that my stool is ALWAYS loose.  Always.  Permanently and forever.  In order to get it to flush in its entirety, I would literally have to stand there and flush about five times or come back in twenty minutes after everything had "settled" for a second flush.  This is common for me.  I'm aware of it.  I'm frustrated by it.  I'm sensitive to it.  This is how my body is.  Strike two.  

To anyone thinking "what's the big deal?  Just flush it again."  Firstly, I'll flip that question around:  why doesn't the next person just flush it again, if it's not a big deal?  If it's "no big deal" then why is this even an issue enough for someone to put up a sign?  Okay, if we agree that it's a big enough deal that needs to be addressed and it's my poop ergo I should monitor it and make sure it goes down?  I refer you back to the previous paragraph--either I'm wasting a lot of water or a lot of time to go back an ensure that this toilet is flushed.  I still have other things that I need to accomplish in my day--I cannot take a half-hour bathroom break in the middle of our busy summer season or any work day, for that matter.  But here's the REAL issue--one more thing to anyone else might not seem like much, but to me, one more thing that I have to monitor in the bathroom is HUGE.  

When you go to the bathroom, what do you worry about?  These are what I remember thinking about:

• Is there a free stall?
• Is there toilet paper in my chosen stall?
• Where can I put my phone down so it doesn't fall?
• How can I pull down my pants/skirt/whatever so that my clothes aren't touching the floor of a public restroom?

The list I worry about now is much more expansive:

• Is there a free stall?
• Is there toilet paper in my stall?
• How can I pull down my pants/skirt/whatever so that my clothes aren't touching the floor of a public restroom?
• How can I hold up my shirt/dress/skirt/whatever so that I can access my ostomy bag and not drop it into the toilet water while I'm managing my bag?
• Do I need to empty it or just vent air out of it?
• Does the stall have enough room for me to tend to everything?
• Shoot, is that a leak?
• Who could I grab right now if I needed my emergency supplies?
• Do I have time to do a bag change now if I needed to, with my work obligations today?
• How close do I need to get to the toilet water to avoid splashback?
• Am I accidentally going to spill the entire contents of my ostomy bag on the floor/my shoes?
• Am I accidentally going to spill the contents of my ostomy bag on the toilet in a way that I will need to clean off before leaving the stall?
• Am I paying enough attention to the open mouth of the ostomy bag while I'm reaching for the toilet paper so that it doesn't have a drip somewhere undesirable?
• When I'm trying to rip off toilet paper to clean the lip of the ostomy bag off before putting it away, will it actually tear as I try to manage it one-handed or will it just roll in such a way that I have to angle my shoulder to help it tear?
• How am I keeping my balance in a squatting position while trying to manage the ostomy bag in one hand and gathering toilet paper in the other?
• Is the person in the stall next to me weirded out that they can see I'm not using the stall in a "traditional" way?
• What if they say something?
• Did I get anything on my hands that I need to worry about as I tuck the ostomy back under my clothes?
• Will I still be able to squat in front of the toilet when I get older?  Will my knees be able to take it?
• Is the flush not going to take everything with it AGAIN today?
• Plus all of the normal work stuff

Yes, it is ONLY one more thing, but the invisible burden of concerns that I carry is already significant.  One more thing in the wave of those concerns feels impossible.  For some people, the bathroom is a sanctuary; for me, it's often a punishment.  Forget bringing my phone with me.

It is NOT my fault.  Leaving "dust" behind in the bathroom is just another quirky facet of my life.  In short, the whole basis of this posted message is under the assumption that we all are facing the same circumstances and accountable to the same rules.  Strike fuck you.

So I did something that I cannot decide if it's petty, a strong display of self-advocacy, or a mixture of both.  I put a post-it reply.  

If you cannot read it, my addition reads "Some of us have a permanent colostomy and have to make due with bathrooms that are not designed for our needs.  Please drop the passive aggressive BS."  The sign was posted on more than one stall--sometimes I do have to use others, if my favorite is taken--but I only put the post-its in my main stall.  

When I went to the bathroom the next day, the post-its were gone, but the self-important sign was still there.  I tore it down, even more pissed.  Later that day, I checked the stall next to it--someone else had torn down that one.  Two weeks later, no sign has reappeared.  

I'm certain there will still be a number of folks that would say "I still don't see what the big deal is."  If that's the case for you, it doesn't have to make sense--it's a big deal for me.  Maybe my response was a little petty, but it's also a place where I advocated for myself, where I wanted to remind people that we don't all have the same circumstances and cannot be measured by the same ruler.  The ruler of "common courtesy" is not only specific to people's own preferences but assumes a certain consistency in others that simply may not be there.  I don't poop out of my butt anymore; I'm acutely aware of this without someone making assumptions in the bathroom.  I'm held to something I cannot achieve as easily as the assumption seems to think.  Even if it still doesn't seem like something to get upset about, this was a place to advocate for myself, to speak up when I was feeling hurt.  It's tough--I'm working on dealing with feelings in the moment rather than swallowing them.  

On Student Loan Forgiveness

There are a few democratic presidential candidates these days talking about a number of important policies.  One that is gaining spurts of attention is the whole idea of student loan forgiveness.  Immediately, that will provoke a visceral reaction out of most any reader, whether it's an immediate, "Yes, that would absolutely change my life!" or "eNTitLeD MilLenNIAiS jUSt WanT fREe sTUff."  You can find a large volume of articles about how Millennials are killing x industry or y industry, as though paper napkins and Applebee's were sacred traditions that were in desperate need of protection. Ignoring the whole tenant of capitalism that industries that are no longer viable deserve to fail (there's no demand, so supply doesn't have value anymore) and that shaming people for not wanting what the prior generation wanted rather than doing fresh research is just lazy/bad marketing, I tell you truly that there are more articles steadily coming out explaining that the Millennials aren't actively destroying anything:  we're just poor.

Then the next common slew of reactions spills in, implying that the spending habits of Millennials is the source of their problem, that they have brought this on themselves by not spending their money wisely.  This is the same kind of logic that people use for any person caught in the cycle of poverty, that clearly they must have done it to themselves, rather than addressing the cyclical and systemic pieces that enforce this in our society.  Here's the short of it:  assuming that someone had the exact same circumstances that you did and just failed to capitalize on them is a real dick move.

Millennials have an absurd volume of student debt, collectively.  We were told in high school that we had to go to college to get a good job, told that we didn't want to "just flip burgers" for the rest of our lives, which simultaneously devalues this industry in society that we actively rely on and also drove a lot of students to seek higher education, as this steadily became a standard requirement in areas it had not been previously.  This doesn't seem so bad until one factors in that these persons are not gaining work experience during that time (another important job requirement) and tuition rates have SKYROCKETED.  I have been told several times how my parents and their family members worked in the summers to pay for college - all of it.  This is not humanly possible in the United States today, unless you have one hell of a family connection or have a very generous scholarship and/or military service.  For the latter, literally risking your life could be a prerequisite for paying for college.  Add to that significantly higher housing prices, the absurdly high price of healthcare in this country, and that minimum wage has not moved to adjust with either of those, yeah, there's not much left to put toward buying a house, let alone save the poor, suffering diamond industry (~sarcasm flag).

That's the in-a-nutshell version of things, that Millennials simply do not have the same circumstances that prior generations had and trying to judge them off of the metric of what another generation was able to do with vastly different resources is patently unfair and leads to a lot of inaccurate conclusions.  We make different choices because we have different factors that we're weighing in to the situation.  It's not our responsibility to show you the math of every situation, but it feels like there are a lot of assumptions made against us.  As an analogy, when I blew my colostomy bag on an airplane and was rushing past people to get off of the plane first so I could contain the mess, I got looks from other passengers who probably thought I was very rude and should just wait my turn.  Had I explained this to people that I had a unique emergency that required this action, the optics probably change immediately and some might even offer to help me outside of staying out of the way.  No one could actively see the situation--it was still hidden under my shirt at that time--but what assumptions were made were probably not charitable ones.  As a generation, we're facing our own emergency.  While it looks like we're being rude or doing something incorrectly, there are reasons for that course of action.  We have our own unique challenges that we are facing.  It feels that though we've tried to explain the emergency that people aren't feeling any sympathy, like if someone had deliberately stood in front of me to let everyone else pass first, even after explaining the urgency I had in safely containing the contents of my colostomy bag from making a larger problem.

It is possible and genuinely appreciated if you ask how you can help or what circumstances we're actually facing.  Not the sarcastic "why did you do it THAT way?" seeking clarification, that is working toward the implied shame rather than actually seeking an answer.  More on the "I want to understand," kind of compassion, that indicates that there are factors that led to this decision and some base empathy even if the specifics of it are unknown.  I'm not saying that there isn't some kind of unnecessary spending happening in certain cases, but there is probably more to it than the individual feels they are entitled to one thing or another.

But, even with that wall of text, I'm not here to convince you of that today--there are many others who have made the case economically, socially, and otherwise better than I have.

So about this loan forgiveness thing.  If I had the $705 I spend monthly on student loans extra to spend per month (not even including the extra that we try to throw at it whenever there is room in the budget to do so), we would have bought a house much sooner, for starters.  We would be saving more, and you can bet we would be stimulating that local economy in some different ways, too.  But the greater, intangible piece is the sheer relief it would give us to have that debt cleared away; I can't even fathom that relief.  Now I know other households where their bill is more toward $200-$300 per month, they might only be paying about fifteen bucks toward their principal each month which is four shades of disheartening.  In fact, they might have given up the idea of ever paying it off, trying to put out a forest fire one mouthful of water at a time.  The kind of relief that would be for them, even having that extra $200 a month would make a huge difference in their quality of life.  In other cases, the student loan payment is about as much as rent, the person in question realizes that they cannot afford both rent and these payments and thus moves home to try to save money somewhere.  Hell, even those without egregious student debt might move back home because of a lack of living wage jobs and inflated housing costs.  I know so many Millennials that have said something to the effect of "I should go to the dentist, but I really can't afford it," or "yeah, I get headaches because I need new glasses but I can't afford it."  Our collective physical and mental health is suffering from the weight of this debt.  This ultimately takes a drain on our country, too, when none of these persons can volunteer, start a business, or participate in public office because they have to find another job to work to make ends meet.  It's a mortgage worth of debt without a house to show for it.  It is very difficult to frame how soul-crushing that is.

Now, Andy and I are fortunate to have both found jobs that pay more than a living wage and to have had a lot of help along the way.  Pairing these pieces with some good financial decisions, we were able to buy our first house.  #MillennialAchievementUnlocked.  We started with approximately 65K of student debt.  We are now under 15K.  We are not a typical case.  We are hammering hard at that remaining debt, and we're hoping to have it done before the end of 2020, earlier if we can push hard enough.  It feels almost possible now.  We are an exception and not the rule.

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked an important question regarding this success we've managed to have.  This individual was aware of our frustrations, that my generation has these additional concerns regarding student debt and the question she asked was something along the lines of this:  "If you pay off all of your debt, will you feel it's fair that someone else gets theirs wiped out, after you've put in all of that hard work?"  Would I think it's fair that they got the help when I had to suffer through it?  I put in all this hard work to pay it off--why should someone else get a free ride after we had trudged uphill to pay it off?

I replied:  "I definitely had that knee-jerk response, too, but then I thought about it a different way.  Thousands of people have died from pertussis.  Just because a cure is available for it now doesn't mean I don't want people who are sick with it to suffer because other people died from it."  I probably could have picked a snappier disease or a cleaner wording, but the idea carries.  If I could cure someone else's Crohn's Disease, I would absolutely want them to have it, even if mine was too advanced for the cure to be effective.  Just because we had managed to pay our student debt off (again, we are NOT the typical case) does not mean I want someone else to suffer the same disease if they don't have to.  Yes, I will have been very sad not have gotten that boon, but I can guess how much it would have meant to me to have it--I could not deny that relief to someone suffering from that same position.  I cannot advocate for someone's continued suffering.  Just because I may have suffered the symptoms is not a good enough reason to allow suffering to continue if we have a way to alleviate it.  In addition to giving the cure to people sick with the disease, I would also advocate the vaccine to keep people from getting it in the future. 

So, yes, we've paid off a huge portion of our collective student debt--barring unforeseen disasters, we're on track to eradicate it in the next year.  While it would be nice to have that money back and/or put into our shiny, new mortgage, I want others to have what I couldn't, to have the peace of mind I crave, to be able to participate in this world more fully.  Anyone that was lucky enough to receive a full scholarship, I hope you would wish the same.  For anyone that was able to get a degree through their time served in the armed services, why would you want someone to have to risk their life to receive the same?  And what about the persons who cannot/could not serve because of their health?  Making college accessible to EVERYONE is the only fair option.

For the time being, though, my real push in all of this is to encourage the idea that generations and persons make decisions for reasons that you may not be privy to and to assume that someone had all of the resources that you might have had and somehow squandered that to end up in their situation is a vast disservice.  I want to push a pause for empathy, to allow for those other circumstances and situations to be part of those moments.

I've heard somewhere that our knee-jerk response is what we've been conditioned to think, but our second thoughts are more about who we are.  I want to grow those second thoughts, the part that allows people to be human and their circumstances to be broader, until that kind of empathy is my knee-jerk response.

So, yes, there are a lot of thoughts about student loan forgiveness and a lot of analyses regarding those.  There are selfish and good reasons to be in favor of student loan forgiveness and affordable college for all, but I want to push that the human quotient of that data is vast and impactful and kind.

We are not our parents.  We shouldn't try to be.  We live in a different world.  There are different obstacles and challenges that we're facing--I firmly support the removal of this one.

Melvin & Me, Part 24: Melvin goes to the Gym!

I find that there are a lot of interesting ideas on what a person with an ostomy can and cannot do.  There are a lot of post surgery facets that folks seem to fixate on:  a very specialized diet, activity restrictions, regular checkups, etc.  These are very important while the body is making that transition, particularly the parts like "don't lift over ten pounds of weight for three months" after the surgery because this can put a lot of stress on some of those fresh sutures.  The dietary changes, too, are especially important as your body is adjusting, that the last thing you would want for a fresh ostomy is a blocked-up ostomy.  Hell, no one wants a blocked-up ostomy.  The body is going to be swollen in these different places for quite some time--any kindness we can give ourselves post-surgery is a good thing.  

But these things don't have to be the forever situation.  This is not to say that some accommodations won’t be made, that there won’t be some permanent changes to diet and activity, but in my experience and in the experience of a few others of my acquaintance the severity and the specifics vary. 

For example, the ostomy diet swears off roughage of any sort:  no leafy greens, anything with seeds, fibrous vegetables, etc.  Makes sense, really.  These contain a lot of fiber that can thicken stool up, cause gas, and/or otherwise be difficult for the body to digest.  At this point, though, I totally have salad, not usually twice in a day as a precaution, but my body can handle salad without much issue.  Some sources will recommend ostomates stick with the rules indefinitely; other sources will say stick with it rigorously for the first six months, then slowly test a food a time to see how it sits with you.  For me, Melvin does not like kale.  For some reason, spinach is fine, but kale can be weirdly painful for me to pass.  But if it were an ingredient in a smoothie, I doubt I would much notice it, apart from flavor (which I’m also not a big fan of, truth be told).  However, I still don’t eat much popcorn because of how the seeds can tear their way through my system, sharp bits in the ostomy bag and everything.  Essentially everything that ends up looking pretty much the same way coming out as it goes in (like corn kernels) doesn’t jive well.  Some folks are troubled by strawberry seeds or cannot stomach more than a cup of lettuce at a time; other folks don’t have any problem at all with these.  We don’t know until we carefully stretch those limits.  Sometimes, I choose to accept the consequences, if that means I get some of that delicious caramel corn in the breakroom:  I have met my emotional need and am prepared for the discomfort to come. 

More than one source has recommended keeping a food journal.  Can you remember what you ate for breakfast yesterday, before you felt nauseous and uncomfortable for a bulk of the afternoon?  Maybe, maybe not, but this way you can at least start to spot those patterns.  I have used MyFitnessPal for tracking online and on their app.  At this point, I have a pretty good idea at this point how my body reacts to different things.  Not everything, certainly, but I have an idea of what things I can eat that do and do not bother my ostomy.  I’m very grateful that my list of what I can eat is pretty broad at this point. What additional restrictions I place on myself, therefore, are an active decision to follow a diet plan of my choice.

However, in addition to the overall problem of blockage and/or painful bowel movements, I also have to keep tabs on how thick or thin my stool is.  Too thick and I could have issues with everything moving through; too thin and I could be losing too much water.  Your large intestine does do the bulk of your water absorption, and I am missing two of the five feet of organ that most people have.  Some foods help thicken things up:  marshmallows and applesauce have been my go-tos, sugar free jello now.  Some foods help thin things out:  juice of some kind tends to be a winner for me.  For my body, a keto diet tends to lend itself toward having looser stool, which I don’t mind because I drink a lot of water to replenish it AND it makes cleaning out the bag a lot easier, letting the liquid roll out instead of squeezing the most disgusting piping bag into the toilet. 

But what about activity?  Can one still go to the gym or build muscle or whathaveyou with an ostomy?  Of course!  Are there some modifications to keep in mind?  Also yes.  But this, too, is going to be specific to the individual, what their emotional and physical limitations happen to be.  There are some aspects to bear in mind:  it’s not particularly comfortable to lie on a plastic ring surrounding that sensitive part of you, a few layers of plastic and cloth between your intestines and the world.  More urgently, though, there’s a hole punched into your abdominal wall—that is bound to affect you core strength, in both general weakness as well requiring some other potential modifications in how one holds equipment or what exercises are used.  

For myself, I have done free weights, machine weight lifting, Zumba, yoga, and lap swimming, all with an ostomy.  I can absolutely do these things.  But I do have to be particularly conscientious of what my body is telling me.  It’s a tough balance, really, between being aware and being hypervigilant.  I need to listen but not obsess,  where I might spend so much energy listening that I don’t end up doing much anything out of fear.  So, in lifting weights, for example, I will go about this activity as one might normally.  The only difference is I am internally watching my abdominal muscles for any sign of discomfort.  Pain is an important indicator, for sure, however in the context of working out, some strain is expected.  Shaking muscles, that’s good, but outright pain is a strong indicator that I need to stop whatever it is I am doing and at the very least lighten the load, likely consider how my body is positioned if I need to adjust that, too, if I don’t stop the activity entirely.  With Zumba, there is a lot of different movement involved, and mostly there is not an issue any of the movement, excepting any activity that involves doubling in half very quickly which I do not do with the same enthusiasm as other movements.  Yoga has a couple of different modifications that I need to keep in mind with any action that takes place lying on my stomach.  The bow pose is one in particular that I am decidedly uncomfortable with, where one lies on their stomach and grabs their ankles behind them or otherwise lifting the legs and arms forward in more of a “Superman” style of things.  This puts a lot of pressure directly on Melvin.  What I end up doing for these moves is either choosing to stay in child’s pose or resting gently on my stomach.  I don’t mind being the only person not doing the pose in these cases.

Lap swimming might seem the odd one out of the group.  Yes, I can go swimming with my ostomy.  Yes, I do have a plastic bag full of poop and air strapped to my side as I do so, but otherwise there is no different than it was before.  This activity was safe before and is safe, still, just with that background concern.  Well, that and one more thing:  it’s really odd to have something inside the bag when I’m swimming.  I tend to empty the bag right before swimming to avoid the sensation.  When I’m swimming freestyle, any liquid in the bag will slosh left to right as my body twists along with the stroke, just a bit delayed from my body’s momentum.  This is even worse when there is air in the bag.  Try taping a partially filled balloon to your side and swim a lap—it gently sloshes back and forth with the body, unconcerned with what the rest of your body is doing.  It feels rather weird.  It’s not painful, just weird. 

The thing is, I’m actually able to do more now with the ostomy than I was able to without it, because my health has been so much better with it.  My colostomy has allowed me to do more than it has limited me.  Isn’t that something?  

My colostomy empowers me to do more than I could before I had it, not less.