Blocked Stoma -

“Mr. Hendricks, did you eat anything different today?” she asked.

Mr. Hendricks was a quiet man in his sixties, three days post-colectomy for colon cancer. When she entered, he was curled on his side, face pale and beaded with sweat. His colostomy bag, attached to the stoma on his lower right abdomen, was empty—bone dry. But his belly was distended, tight as a drum. blocked stoma

It was 3:00 AM when the call came in for Emily, a third-year surgical resident. The voice on the other end was shaky. “It’s Mr. Hendricks, Room 408. His stoma… it’s not putting anything out. And he’s in agony.” Hendricks was a quiet man in his sixties,

He groaned. “My wife brought me… nuts. A handful of almonds. I thought… healthy.” But his belly was distended, tight as a drum

She ordered warm water and a few drops of dish soap—an old nursing trick—and drew it into a large syringe with a soft catheter. Gently, she flushed the stoma, massaging the surrounding abdomen in slow circles. At first, nothing. Then a trickle of brown liquid. Then a small, almond-shaped pellet popped out, followed by a gush of gas and fecal matter that filled the bag in seconds.

She wrote the orders, checked his vitals—heart rate already slowing, blood pressure stabilizing. A blocked stoma could turn into a perforated bowel if ignored. Tonight, they’d caught it in time.