In a nutshell, I'm not a nut.
In a nutshell, I'm not a nut
At age 22, I lost half my gut.
Crohn's Disase was diagnose so,
the surgeon snipped, clipped, and cut...
Stella, i named what was left.
She's a pretty,
-itty-bitty, pink,
ileostomy.
Loud, round, and moist she is,
protruding from my abdomen.
Without her, I would not be me--
a SURVIVO!!! with Crohn's Disease!
She's stuck on me till death do us part,
WE're a masterful surgeon's piece of art.
Together, we live in near harmony.
We're two on a team,
lean, supreme,
and hard to beat.
Thankful and strong we have grown,
and always aware we are not alone.
This poem is about:
Me