By Brenda Elsagher

People living with an ostomy often wonder if they should admit they have had ostomy surgery. There's really no right or wrong choice. Okay, maybe it would be weird to stand up at a local town hall meeting and shout out, "I have a stoma and his name is Vesuvius!" This is where discretion comes into play. Someday we might see a TV ad in which an enthusiastic shopper holds up a box of laundry soap and declares, "I have inflammatory bowel disease and this detergent solves all my problems." It could happen.

I owned a hair salon when I received my diagnosis of colorectal cancer in 1995. In my absence, I asked my sister and business partner Shelly to explain my condition to my clients and co-workers. Back at work, I was styling a client's hair when my pouch started making gas sounds that I couldn't hide. Without missing a beat, my client said to my abdomen, "Hey, I'm talking here!" We both laughed, I got over that embarrassing moment quickly, and we carried on with our conversation.

I soon cultivated the fine art of standup comedy, but it would be a year before I could joke about having cancer or an ostomy in a comedy club. Finally, an experienced comedian told me the old joke, "It's not so bad having a colostomy; I just can't find shoes to match my bag." That inspired me to write jokes like, "I was a little worried when Northwest Airlines came out with that one bag limit!" and "I had to become a stand-up comic; I couldn't sit down!"

Soon I became comfortable talking about life with an ostomy and found myself keynote-speaking across the country. When I talk to medical people about my surgery, I share the notes from my charts. When I talk to community groups, I tell them I was sliced, diced and rearranged. If I talk to religious gatherings, I say, "When God closes a door, He opens a window." I have a window.

When I wrote my first book, I included sections that revealed my love life and other sensitive issues. My husband, who is from the Middle East, was concerned that this information was too private to share in such an open forum. After exploring all the positive and negative scenarios, we decided that revealing our journey would help others more than it would hurt us. The many letters we have received confirm that we made the right decision.

Yesterday, a friend and I drove 80 miles to listen to Cal Brazier, an energetic 82-year-old musician who had ileostomy surgery last year. When Cal's not helping his grandson build his new home, he entertains people by singing, playing his guitar and fiddle, and telling corny jokes. After reading my book, he called to share his original song about having an ostomy. His lyrics contained so much humor and acceptance that I had to put them on my website.  Cal chose to share his experience through humor and song. How might you?

To tell or not to tell people about your ostomy is your business.  For me, the benefits of going public have been numerous. New friends, such as Cal Brazier, and opportunities to spark my
creative juices keep turning up. At some point, you may want to share your journey with others, and if not—that's okay too!

Brenda Elsagher is a funny, national keynote speaker, author and person living with an ostomy for 11 years. Her books, If the Battle is Over,  Why am I Still in Uniform? and I'd  Like  to  Buy a  Bowel Please!  are  available  at www.livingandlaughing.com. Brenda always appreciates questions for her column: Brenda@livingandlaughing.com.