Supporting the Colitis, Crohn's, ostomy and J-Pouch community one butt joke at a time


Guy J. Pouch

If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis!

Ok, maybe not quite. But who doesn’t love a good Billy Madison quote?

Self admittedly, we are a people obsessed with poop. That’s right, I just called us a people. Add it to the census questionnaires. But I digress. So yes, poop obsessed people. And who can blame us? It controlled our life, and to a large extent, it still does. When we tell “others” about our issues, it’s poop they fixate on. But IBD and the treatments can have a ripple effect into all other kinds of bodily systems as well.

I recently received my first reader email from a fellow IBD bro. Let’s call him OP, for Optimus Prime (total badass bro). So OP recently had a total protocolectomy, and is now having urination issues from the swelling in his pelvic region. OP claims a lack of strength on his stream, which is causing it to go everywhere but the toilet. OP is wondering if it gets better.

Well OP, Guy J. Pouch is not a doctor. But from one bro to another, hang in there, it should get better. As the swelling goes down, things will start to work more “normally”. (Notice the quotes, we are not normal; we are medical marvels. And like the honey badger, we are bad-ass.) I remember after surgery, I had a hard time emptying my bladder in one fail swoop. But you eventually get there.

However for Guy J. Pouch, post-surgical urination issues are plentiful. You see, the anesthesia they gave me in surgery, combined with the high-strength pain killers, keeps me from peeing after surgery — for days. When I’m cath’ed it’s no problem. But you know doctors, they want to take you off of everything ASAP. So despite my incessant pleas for mercy to keep my cath in a little longer, they pull it, and I cannot urinate on my own. And like clockwork, my bladder fills, overflows, and I’m screaming out at the top of my lungs in what can only be described as speaking in tongue as if I were the devil himself.

But here I am, 8 months out of surgery, and I’m doing better than ever. So OP, hang in there, or talk to your surgeon (that’s what you pay them for)!

Do you have any quirks post-surgery? Leave them in the comments below.

Cliches are stupid. That's right, I said stupid.

I had this whole long post written about this Wego prompt, “you think you know, but you have no idea”. No, really, I did. But who wants to read about me going on and on after you’ve already read Jackie’s. (SPOILER ALERT: She talks about stomas and puppies in the same post. Freak.)

So open thread. Post your “you think you know, but you have no idea” stories below. Best one gets a digital high five. I’ll start with mine.


* * *

Anyone who has fought the good fight for any decent length of time knows you just come to accept that everyone around you thinks they’re a doctor, and that they’re going to tell you some magical thing to “cure” you. My father once read in the local newspaper that caraway seeds, like the kind you find in sausage, were some miracle help for irritable bowel syndrome. Funny huh? Despite the fact he couldn’t understand that I didn’t have IBS, I had IBD. He would try and try and try to sneak them on my food.

Maybe this is a good point out that seeds do not like me. In fact, they hate me. They make me sick. Violently. (Thanks Dad!)

The Silent Killer

I know my first post was fun and sarcastic, but I write this post with a heavy-heart; so I apologize in advance if I kill the mood. This post is not male specific, nor is it IBD specific; but I know it is going to apply to many of you anyways.

Let’s just get to it, shall we?

Suicide. It’s one of those things no one wants to talk about, but everyone seems to know someone who has either thought about it, tried it, or God forbid, succeeded. Last night I watched as someone I love dearly battled with the thoughts of ending her life (not IBD related); and I was hours away and could do nothing about it. I battled whether to call the police, to call her family, or to just try and talk her out of it. I chose the latter, and while I was ultimately successful in talking her down, I’ve sat here all day wondering if I made the right choice; and if ever presented with that again, if I should choose differently.

As people with IBD (or the after effects), I think many of us at one time or another have had those thoughts, whether or not we like to admit it. Why am I battling this? It would be so much easier to give up. I am such a burden to my family and friends. They don’t deserve this. I’m worthless. I’m a waste. I’m messed up. I’ll never be normal. No one will ever love me. This is too hard. It’s not worth the fight anymore. These are all thing I’VE personally thought and felt. And I know others have as well. It’s a natural reaction to everything we go through. All the surgeries, all the medications. All the complications, missed activities, life passing us by.

We come out of surgery thinking our life will be magically changed and we will be completely normal; and to an extent they are instantly improved. But recovery is a LONG and painful process. You will have, good days and bad days, just like when you had the disease. But eventually the good days outweigh the bad days, and life improves. There is no magic surgery. There is no magic drug. There is no magic cure. Surgery is not a cure, you’re simply replacing one major problem with what we hope is a lesser problem. Most of the time it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But we continue to fight on. However…

Suicide is not a solution. It is not a cure. It does not end the pain, it only spreads it to everyone around you.

There is always light at the end of the tunnel. And that’s what we hold onto. So I urge you, if you are battling with these thoughts, talk to someone; a friend, a family member, your nurses and doctors, someone, anyone. If you are seriously motivated, dial 911. If you know someone who is in imminent danger, dial 911 for them. Find a support group. Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Just please do something.

In an emergency: DIAL 911

Suicide Prevention Lifeline: (800) 273-TALK (8255)

No one has to fight this battle alone. Things do get better. Scars heal. Life continues. The sun rises, and with it a new opportunity to make life beautiful.

As stated in one of my all-time favorite movies, “The Shawshank Redemption”, “…hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”




(I would like to add (This is Jackie), that GJP was one of the people who was very supportive of me while I was going through this very struggle. He was understanding, yet forceful in his concerns for me. One of the few people I know in real life who knew what was going on, and actively did something to help me. He was also one of the few people to really take me seriously….in fact threatening a call to the police if I didn’t do XYZ things. A true friend. Many thanks to GJP for this.)


Guys Have Pouches Too

While I may be willing to spill my guts out onto this blog to help j-pouchers of the world, the one thing I really can’t do is speak from a male perspective. So Internet, I present to you Guy J. Pouch. Don’t worry about who he is, (I do promise you that he is in fact, a he and not just me) but please feel free to ask him your man questions. About man stuff. Like being a man. And stuff.

Blood, Poop, and Tears is a great blog, but you know what it’s missing? A MALE point of view. So Guy J. Pouch is here to fix that.

Are you ready talk IBD and pouch with a fellow bro? Good, so am I; and over the next few weeks, we’re going to shoot the shit (see what I did there?). Heck, maybe we’ll make this a regular thing.

However, it’s a known fact that guys are lazy, and I’m no exception; so I need ideas on what you guys (and gals) want to see from the male point of view. Drop me a line at, or you’ll be subjected to posts about boring things, like sports and hot women. Speaking of hot women, maybe I’ll start a IBD hottie of the week. Any volunteers? 😉

But all kidding aside, this is your opportunity to have your UC/IBD/surgery/ostomy/J Pouch/rubber ducky questions answered with a fresh take.

So hit me up, and let’s talk poop (or why the Steelers suck).


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