The pain pulsed again, a 6 out of 10. He ran a warm bath. As he lowered himself into the water, the heat began to unclench the knots in his abdominal wall. He then performed the "gas pass" pose—knees to his chest as best he could.
He knew the first rule: do not eat. Do not drink a full glass of water. You cannot push a cork down a full bottle. Instead, he shuffled to the kitchen, poured a warm cup of peppermint tea, and sat down. He took tiny, rabbit-sized sips. Warm liquids acted like a gentle lubricant. He avoided cold water—his surgeon had told him cold shocks the bowel into a spasm.
The clock on the nightstand read 2:47 AM. Leo lay perfectly still, one hand pressed against his lower abdomen, the other gripping the edge of the mattress. A cramping, colicky pain was building—a wave of pressure that would crest, hold for a terrifying second, and then ebb, only to return a minute later. stoma blockage what to do
He realized that if the warm bath, massage, and "splosh" hadn't worked after two hours, or if he had started vomiting, he would have been in the car to the ER. A complete blockage can lead to a ruptured bowel or severe dehydration. There is no shame in the ER. Pride doesn't digest fiber.
Leo felt the pressure in his abdomen release like a popped balloon. The colicky pain vanished, replaced by the dull ache of relief. He cleaned up, applied a new pouch, and drank another small cup of tea. The pain pulsed again, a 6 out of 10
He then tried the trick his ostomy nurse, Brenda, had taught him: The Splosh . He took a 60ml syringe (without the needle) filled with warm tap water. Gently, he inserted the tip into the opening of his stoma. Not deep—just the tip. He slowly, slowly depressed the plunger. A few drops of water went in. He waited. A gurgle. He did it again. This wasn't a flush; it was a "lube job."
Suddenly, a small, hard pellet of undigested nut flew out into the washcloth. Followed by a spurt of liquid. Then a loud, glorious, bubbling fart. He then performed the "gas pass" pose—knees to
Gently, so gently, he placed his palm beside Buddy. He did not press hard. He used a soft, circular, clockwise motion, like he was polishing a priceless antique. He was trying to encourage the trapped food—likely a fiberous string of green bean or that rogue almond—to wiggle loose. He visualized the blockage: a tiny raft stuck in a river.
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