Simon's great big bag of poo

Simon’s stomach didn't just rumble; it sounded like a construction site hosting a heavy metal concert during a mild earthquake. At forty-five, with a head as shiny as a polished bowling ball, Simon spent more time grimacing in pain than he did actually living his life. "It's no use," he groaned, clutching his belly while lying on the sofa. "My colon has officially resigned from its duties."

He arrived at St. Mungo’s Hospital for the Hopeless and Gassy, sweating nervously under the buzzing fluorescent lights. The doctors had told him he needed a stoma, which meant rerouting his plumbing to a bag on his tummy. It sounded terrifying, but the pain was worse, so he signed the papers with a shaking hand. He didn't expect the smell of cheap gin to greet him at the operating theatre doors.

Dr. Patel stumbled into the room, tripping over his own surgical mask which was tied around his ankle for some reason. He was a bald Indian man with wild, unfocused eyes, swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane. "Right then!" he shouted, brandishing a rusty spoon instead of a scalpel. "Who's here for the brain transplant?"

"It's my colon, actually," Simon squeaked, eyeing the surgeon who was currently trying to pour a flask of mystery liquid into the IV drip. Dr. Patel squinted at Simon, hiccuped loudly, and let out a dangerous laugh. "Colon, schm-olon! Out it comes! We’ll replace it with a garden hose or perhaps a nice balloon animal!"

Before Simon could protest or run for the hills, the anesthesia kicked in, filling his dreams with dancing toilets and flying toilet paper. Meanwhile, Dr. Patel worked with the grace of a blindfolded juggler, humming catchy show tunes while tossing medical instruments over his shoulder. It was a miracle of modern medicine, or perhaps just sheer dumb luck, that the operation actually proceeded without the building catching fire.

Simon woke up feeling lighter, though that might have been because Dr. Patel had accidentally removed his appendix and a slightly ingrown toenail as a bonus. The surgeon was asleep in the corner, snoring loudly while using a metal bedpan as a pillow. Simon looked down at his abdomen, afraid to see what kind of chaos the drunk doctor had caused.

It was a bag—a plastic pouch sitting right on his stomach where his belly button used to have clear real estate. "Behold!" Dr. Patel slurred, waking up with a start and pointing a shaky finger at Simon's midriff. "Your new plumbing is installed! No more sitting on the throne for you, my friend; you are now a mobile waste management unit."

At first, Simon was horrified by the bag, fearing it would pop like a water balloon at a birthday party if he moved too fast. He walked stiffly down the corridor, terrified that a single sneeze would cause a catastrophic event. But as the hours passed, he realized his stomach stopped hurting for the first time in years.

There were learning curves, of course, like the time the bag burped loudly during a very quiet moment with the pretty nurse. Dr. Patel visited for a check-up, smelling faintly of sherry, and slapped Simon hard on the back. "She's a noisy beast, isn't she?" the doctor cackled, nearly knocking Simon out of his bed.

Simon learned to change the bag with the speed of a Formula 1 pit crew, handling the mess with surprising dignity. He named the stoma 'The Governor' because it dictated his schedule, but he didn't mind so much anymore. He could go for walks, eat a sandwich, and exist without pain, even if he did carry his business in a pouch like a reversed kangaroo.

During his final discharge meeting, Simon thanked the erratic surgeon, who was currently trying to use a stethoscope as a telephone to order a pizza. "You're a maniac," Simon told him truthfully, "but you actually fixed me." Dr. Patel winked, nearly fell off his rolling stool, and offered Simon a swig from his hip flask.

Simon walked out of the hospital, the sunshine bouncing off his bald head, ready to face the world with his great big bag. It wasn't the life he expected, but life is full of surprises, and his just happened to be attached to his tummy with medical adhesive. He was Simon, the man with the stoma, and he was finally free.