colostomy

A Colostomate in Honduras during COVID-19

Honduras is a beautiful, tropical country located in the center of Central America. Honduras boasts of beautiful beaches, forests, mountains and people.  I love living in Honduras, just going anywhere and being able to see the mountain ranges and the skies are worth it.

Nevertheless, statistics show that 991 women are diagnosed with cervical cancer each year in Honduras. Cervical cancer is the first cause of death in women next to breast cancer. Fortunately, in 2016, the Honduran government approved the HPV vaccine for girls. Private medical facilities provide the vaccine for the rest of the population.

When I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I did not know anything about it. I was the first person that I knew that had this type of cancer. After cervical treatment I developed a rectovaginal fistula. One more thing I did not know existed. To help me heal or have a better quality of life, my following treatment was getting a temporary colostomy. Another first in my life. I knew little about ostomies; I met a person who had an ostomy but he never spoke of it.

A colostomy is an opening in the large intestine bringing the end of the colon through an incision to the abdominal wall. That was the first thing I learned about a colostomy. My doctor was extremely helpful in giving me materials and support, but I felt so lost. I went online to look for information or anyone in Honduras with a colostomy. I did not find a person to talk to about it. Google and other websites were my go-to for information and tips. 

When surgery came and I had to order my ostomy bags, I had no idea what I was doing. I called hospitals in my country and they said we have this type and that is it.  So, I ordered from Amazon, and bought what I thought might be helpful and easier for me to accept (I was in denial of my ostomy up to the day after my surgery when I felt the relief).

Buying supplies in Honduras is not easy, in fact you call medical suppliers and they do not know what you are asking them for. I’ve only found one supplier that understands ostomies but does not provide the specific brand I use. The brand I use in not available in Honduras. I am very adamant about my ostomy supplies; I want to be comfortable and feel safe. It took me a year to find the perfect match with my stoma and my colostomy bag. I buy online in the U.S. and have it sent to me via a courier service. On a regular basis it takes three weeks for me to get supplies to my house. I always plan ahead and have enough supplies for two months at any given time. 

When COVID-19 made its way to us, Honduras was not ready for anything that came after March. Everything just seemed to be chaos as our country started closing up. With that being said, when quarantine came, I had just received a shipment of my supplies and in mid-April I ordered more, the usual amount, I wasn’t worried, I had stocked up. Then June came and I only had supplies for the first week and no news of my order. Countless emails and calls, and I still had not received anything. I ordered more, just in case, hoping this new order would get here sooner. I called and asked countless times for my orders. First, they got to my courier late, then customs took months in letting them through. I hated listening to this response repeatedly: “Your package is here in Honduras, it’s in Customs, and it has not been released yet.” I was lucky that a medical supplier here had supplies, but since they are not what worked best I went through them quickly. It took my ostomy bags four months to get here, and the order came incomplete. I am still waiting for the next shipment and completion of the first. 

Anxiety hit me hard in June and July. I was so mad that this was happening. I woke up one day crying, because the bags I was using were causing an allergic reaction to my skin. That same day, as I was moping all over the place and making everyone miserable, I remembered that I was still here. Even though this was awful and infuriating, I was still here. I allowed myself to grovel for one day, let it out, release. The next day I took a long bagless shower, and placed a new bag on, and even though the rash was still there, I was going to go through it and wait for my supplies to get here, I had to be positive. When they finally did get here, I cried again (blame it on the menopause). It was like opening a birthday present!

Being an ostomate in a country where it is considered a taboo and there is little information and supplies, is awfully hard. I am incredibly lucky that I have a good relationship with my doctors, and when I have issues, I can text them and they’ll get back to me quickly. Having this support is extremely helpful. But sometimes you need support from someone who understands physically and emotionally what you are going through. It took me a little over a year to meet Hondurans with ostomies. Just knowing that there are people out there with an ostomy and that you are not alone is helpful. I have not personally met them but being open to share your story helps others open to share theirs.  Using social media helps a whole bunch.

My ostomy came to me due to cervical cancer treatment. I’ve named my stoma Jeepers, because he creeped up on me. I am a proud ostomate, I’ve learned to accept my ostomy and to talk about it openly. It should not be a taboo or something someone cannot discuss.

Karla Chavez is from Honduras and she is a civil engineer and amigurumi enthusiast. Karla is a 3-year cervical and thyroid cancer survivor and a proud ostomate. She is a Cervivor Ambassador, a 2019 Cervivor School graduate and is a key support to our growing Cervivor Espanol community.

Tale of Two Ostomies

As cervical cancer survivors, our bodies undergo very traumatic changes. Chemotherapies. Radiation therapies. Hysterectomies. Biopsies. We also live with lasting side effects that continue to wreak havoc on our bodies and emotional well-being. 

Ten months after my cervical cancer diagnosis and radical hysterectomy, I faced an unfamiliar surgery — a pelvic exenteration. At this point, I didn’t feel like I had a choice. My cancer had metastasized and this was my only option. The choice was made for me.

A pelvic exenteration is the removal of the vagina (I opted for no vaginal reconstruction), bladder, urethra, rectum and part of the colon. I was left with a colostomy (I call Ethel) and a urostomy (I call Fred).

What is an ostomy?

Colostomy = An opening in the abdominal wall in which the end of the colon is brought through the opening to form a stoma. The stoma looks like the lining of your cheek. Unlike the anus, the stoma does not have a shut-off muscle so I cannot control when I go (or the sounds that emit from my stoma – and yes, it farts).

Urostomy (Ileal conduit) = Uses a section of the bowel, surgically removed from the digestive tract and repositioned to serve as a conduit for urine from the ureters to a stoma. One end of the conduit attaches to the ureters and the other end, in my case, to the second stoma.

I have bags that attach to appliances (adhesive patches with plastic ring openings) that collect my waste. In the ostomy world, I am a ‘double bagger’.

Getting used to foreign objects attached to your body where waste pours out of is challenging to say the least. It was downright overwhelming at first. I cried every time I had to change my appliances and bags, which was every other day in the beginning. I felt helpless and angry. But as I physically healed things started getting easier and my frustration level decreased. I learned the best time for changing my bags, I learned what foods did and didn’t work with my ostomies and I learned there’s a whole online community for ostomy support and care. 

I also decided that since I was still here I wasn’t going to let my ostomies or my cancer dictate how I was going to live my life. I slowly went back to doing the things I always loved: hiking, swimming, traveling and Jazzercising. Taking back parts of my life was empowering and I felt strong again. Being able to still be me, to do the things that made me feel “normal”, helped me accept my changed body.

Most days my ostomies are unremarkable, just another body part. But I am keenly aware that my cervical cancer took away parts that gave me my womanhood and that I now redefine what it means to be a woman, a true Cervivor and someone who lives for more sunny days.

There are other women in our Cervivor community who are living and thriving with ostomies. If you are facing an ostomy surgery please know that you are not alone and that you have resources. We are here for you. 

Carol is our Lead Cervivor Ambassador and manages our Cervivor Meet Up program. She lives in Northern California where she raised two amazing kids and hikes with her husband and their fur baby Ace. Carol & Cervivor have put together a helpful guide for those undergoing ostomy surgery. Click here to view.