tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1340161811250570390.post2177798012416783442..comments2023-11-09T00:58:20.810-08:00Comments on My Baglady Life: Who Loves Ya, Baby?The Bagladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08752404476908925675noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1340161811250570390.post-223562013871179432012-05-03T05:38:57.406-07:002012-05-03T05:38:57.406-07:00I haven't commented for a while - not because ...I haven't commented for a while - not because I haven't enjoyed your blogs (always brilliant)but I wasn't sure how I was feeling about it all. Your 'watch the bag change' experiences sent me into a long reassessment. My general policy has been no one will see my stoma until I'm completely senile and incapable. But hang-on, my older sister and brother helped me change my bag when I came back from hospital aged 10 - then my father use to do it, and of course stoma nurses at least 3, surgeons and a fair number of other medics have all had a go. But none of this compares to your brave, very brave experience. How liberating. The closest I ever came to show my partner was a photo of a partial prolapse a few years ago. Although her reaction was supportive I still couldn't bring myself to actually display it in vivo. As regards seeing the bag, I've always been terrified of anyone's comments but like Kez there's never been a problem with relationships. My closest and oldest friend always asks me how it is, and helps me to find a toilet when out and about. I love friends like that. Wendy I take off my hat to you, as well as to American and Australian - they are truely great friends and obviously love you for who you are. Wonderful!Richardnoreply@blogger.com