A Grandmother’s Found Story. Personal Impressions of a New Way of Life

Editor’s note- In 1972 Mildred Brett wrote these personal reflections on life with an ostomy after having surgery in 1970 while in her mid-50’s. Her granddaughter Lisa recently discovered these remarkable writings and wanted to share them with the community. They still hold universal truths about the experience of becoming an ostomate that are timeless. Mildred was a smart and creative woman who had “a gentle spirit and vibrant personality” before her passing in 1998 at 84-years old. We hope Mildred would be happy to know that the spirit of peer support and ostomy education lives on at UOAA Affiliated Support Groups all around the country and that ostomy awareness is being raised with many new online resources.

As I review the past two years of my life, diversified experiences have me convinced that fear is the greatest enemy of progress not the best antidote to this treacherous virus is knowledge. If only I had been informed this summer along the line about the nature of my surgery, much anguish, trepidation, humiliation and shock could have been avoided. However, despite the multitude of formidable obstacles, I merged a victor instead of a victim with two bouts of cancer.

In view of the fact that there has been very little publicity in the past, a genuine need prevails to alert and educate the public regarding the meaning of the word colostomy. It is my deep-rooted hope that the following narrative will prove beneficial wherever indicated.

On April 27, 1970 hospital records in Brooklyn New York categorize me as a colostomy the terminology is for a person who has had a colostomy. On that tragic morning after the epic effects of the anesthesia more away I sense the proximity of someone at my bedside and assumed that the unanticipated ordeal was finally over. While I waited cautiously for the next move, I heard a reassuring voice asking me to open my eyes. As I willingly responded to this friendly request, Little did I know that a real eye-opener was in store for me.

With my first squint a “right of the cheerful nurse” ready to comfort me, and then, much of my effort about the maze I discovered several medical tubings which were connected to a different part of my body. As I learned later on, the two bins were routine and temporary, but in that hectic interval I had, unequivocally, reached the summit of fear and subsequently slumped into a state of total withdrawal. As I trembled and wondered about my precautions plate, the disc earning nurse endeavored to curl my inner turmoil. Her RTS effort or all in vain. And as much as I was not provided with any pre-operative or post-operative counseling, I conjured up all sorts of fantasize notions. I distrusted the motors of anyone who came near me, including the vulnerable surgeon who try to beat my apparent fear. He frequently mentioned that he was exceedingly pleased with the outcome of the operation, but because of my unresponsiveness I could scarcely share his enthusiasm.

My faithful and dependable stoma truly represents a candy life saver glossy red ink color and wonderful to control and command. At first the colostomy usually threatens one’s existence but this is due to erroneous concepts.

Whenever the attending nurse changes the taut bandages on my stomach, she would inevitably admire the stoma. However, in as much as I had not yet been introduced to this mysterious guest, I wondered what the lady in the white had in mind. During these days that follow there was much more discussions in my room about the colostomy, but not a word made sense to me. Members of my family told me that I would be fine, but I stubbornly refused to place any credence in reiterated promises. The devastating terror had disabled of my reasoning. Unanswered questions were rapidly accumulating. The existing enigma had been baffled. Commiseration and bitterness continued aggressively and actively. As far as I was concerned, my colostomy represented in undesired and permanent impediment. We all have a personal philosophy of life by which we are guided.

Unquestionably, dreaded the unknown. To be aware is to be informed and once I fully understood the facts the pieces seem to fit. Had I been told that the colostomy is not a disease, but that is the change of a bodily function to free the patient from troubles of a disease, I would have been spared a good portion of my emotional pain. In any event statistics prove that the patient’s pulse operable acceptance of this new way of life is based upon the complete understanding of the colostomy. Little did I realize during these despondent days how attached my stoma and I would become in the very near future, nor how incredibly it would perform.

Time passed slowly the monotonous routine of hospital life had eventually induced a feeling of boredom, which I welcomed temporarily. Any sensation other than empathy was a giant step forward. My mind was no longer envelope with fog and for the first time since surgery I was capable of collecting my own thoughts. It was in relegate as I analyze the matter in hand that if I care to make immediate progress, it would be necessary to regulate my morbid speculation and face reality.

After much ever meditation I reach a sagacious decision. I listened attentively when the empathic staff imparted information and although I did not grasp the full importance of every other sentence, I slowly can see if some of the reasons in care of the colostomy. It was unmistakably that I had to overcome my difficulties and not to overcome by them. During that promise I was thrilled to know that I was traveling in the right direction. There was so much to be investigated. What I need it was more privacy if I Intended to tackle the multiplicity of details accurately. Without further delay I contacted the eminent surgeon and explain my impulsive wishes to go home. After check-up which took place the ensuring morning, permission was granted. As I confidently gather together my personal belongings and bed for a while to my esteemed friends, I had much that I must do good with what I had innovation or else it would not do me any good. With breathless impatiens I was escorted to the waiting car and tried to ignore the radical palpitations of my happy heart.

Home sweet home as a cheerfully entered the familiar portals of security, the savory odor from the kitchen with my appetite. My loving and understanding family had prepared a stupendous meal which will long be remembered. Their indefatigable efforts paid off. The combination of full and satisfied stomach plus the warmth of the house encouraged drowsiness. I left the enthusiastic group staggered awkwardly to the top floor where I immediately impressed with the air of quietude and peace. I settled down in my room under the immaculate blankets and slept contently for many hours. The subsequent days were spent reading and studying incisive booklets pertaining to my new way of life. As I assimilated all the needful data and placed it in my proper perspective, the following revelation commenced to unfold. Throughout the world there are hundreds of thousands of people in every walk of life with colostomies. The name colostomy is derived from the word: colon and stoma. The latter meaning mouth or opening. Not every colostomy is performed because of malignancy. Colostomies are made for different conditions. Sometimes it is temporary arrangement and at other times it may be permanent. The bodies chemistry and digestive work is not altered by surgery. Once complete recovery is achieved the colostomate or ostomate returns to a normal and productive life. Actually, a colostomy is an opening into the large bowel and it is substituting for the rectum. The minimal portion of the bowel protrudes through the abdomen where the aperture of the little slit is devised. This small portion is called the stoma. My faithful and dependable stoma truly represents a candy life saver glossy red ink color and wonderful to control and command. At first the colostomy usually threatens one’s existence but this is due to erroneous concepts. My stoma never ceases to amaze me as it sits so comfortably adjacent to my navel.

Of immediate consequence is colostomy control. This is most frequently established by irrigation, which, when used in connection with colostomies refers to enema. The enema is administered through the stoma. Not all colostomies irrigate. Much depends upon the type of colostomy and the judgment of the doctor. As a novice the first dozen times attempts at irrigation were not very hopeful. However, incidents in the past have taught me that a certain amount of conflict in fear usually perceives entering a new phase of life. There were many baffling mornings developing another set of habits is not always easy. The exhausting hours of trial and error demonstrated that perseverance is more feasible than hysteria and many which cannot be surmounted when they are together seeing yield when taking little by little. Somehow I found a reservoir of strength to go on with the assistance of my inherent  equanimity. I successfully developed a technique best suited for myself as they ultimately met with astonishing results. The perplexity mystery was conclusively resolved. Lucky me! I had been granted the serenity to accept that which I could not change did I have an alternative? My veritable triumph was richly rewarding. During the summer of 1970 I had my share of swimming, dancing and almost participated in a variety of sports. Outside of my immediate family in the attending surgeon, no person could tell that I had had a colostomy. I return to art school in the fall of the same year and fulfilled a fruitful and changing term.

It is imperative at this point to mention that there are more than 170 (ostomy support) chapters located all over the globe structured for the purpose of aiding the colostomy, in dealing with the manifold adjustments to a new way of life. These nonprofit organizations have effectively programs that help “ease a heart from aching” and also hasten the road toward total rehabilitation. Acting as a clearinghouse for ostomy information is the United Ostomy Association with headquarters in Los Angeles, California. My local chapter is known as the colostomy club of Brooklyn, which is beyond doubt a storehouse of knowledge. It is composed of dedicated humane individuals who are behind the scenes with fervid interest to help you gather all the necessary help. Lasting friendships are developed. At the encounter one is surrounded with congenial rehabilitation members, who are always eager to share similar stories. Verbalizing one’s problems in a group can be very remedial. We inculcate what belongs to us is not important as to what we belong and there is unbelievable strength in being identified with some worthy group. Lasting friendship I developed through this common bond. There are doctor’s nurses and notable guest speakers at the monthly meetings to discuss pertinent problems, we are famous for our perception committees who visit the patients at the hospital upon request of the doctor or nurse. This person contacts supplies a strong sense of identification which is invaluable. Our periodical bulletins contain limitless messages of faith and assurance.

It is our ceaseless dream and desire to implant courage and confidence in all colostomies, the courage awakens confidence which is the first requirement to a great undertaking. Just about here it seems appropriate to conclude with one of my favorite Proverbs, “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things he has not but rejoices for those which he has”.

Mildred Brett 4242 Bedford Ave Brooklyn NY

October 1972

Signed Mildred

Submitted by a loving granddaughter Lisa Brett

Lisa Brett shares more on her Nanny

My grandmother, affectionately known as Nanny, was the bravest person I ever knew growing up. Spending time with her was always the highlight of my day. Her love for her husband Jack, who sadly passed away, was unwavering. She was truly the life of the party, always bringing joy and laughter wherever she went. One of her favorite pastimes was learning a new word each day from her dictionary, showcasing her outstanding vocabulary and her relentless desire to learn.

A proud high school graduate of Bushwick High School in Brooklyn, Nanny was the daughter of two Holocaust survivors, Rachel and Phillip. Their resilience inspired her to fight with all her strength. She was also a loving sister to two older brothers, a dedicated wife to Jack, a devoted mother to Robert and Carol, and a caring mother-in-law. Her family extended to her role as a nanny to Lisa, Jaimie, Steven, Penny, and Michael, and she was a beloved great-grandmother to Jacqueline, Alexis, and Frankie.

Despite her passing, I remember her gentle spirit and vibrant personality. She battled not only her colostomy but also Alzheimer’s in her later years, and although she no longer recognized anyone, her love and spirit remained etched in our hearts. I cherish memories of her asking Jack if he wanted ice cream—her favorite was vanilla fudge swirl Breyers—and I would happily share in her delight. We often took walks along the avenue, where she made sure her lipstick was perfectly applied with lip liner, and she always wore her white gloves with grace.

She gifted me a large string of pearls, which I transformed into four bracelets and a necklace for my children, as well as a necklace for myself—treasured keepsakes of her love. We also enjoyed working with clay together and exploring the arts, which she deeply appreciated. Her classes were held at the museum, and everyone knew Mildred because, as her high school yearbook noted, she had that special “something” called IT—she was the quintessential “IT girl,” possessing that magnetic charm and allure.

Dining out with her was always a special occasion. She’d sit at the diner with her favorite waiter, ordering filet of sole, dry baked potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and even a Lindsay tart for dessert—though she was so full she had no room, weighing only 101 pounds! Life with her was filled with happiness, love, and endless joy, and she never once complained.

Her spirit, strength, and love continue to inspire us. She was truly one of a kind—a remarkable woman whose legacy of love and resilience lives on in all of us.