There are moments when living with an altered body teaches you things no leaflet ever mentions.
One of those moments is lying back in bed, legs gently raised, finally giving in to rest and hearing your body make noises that sound unfamiliar, even unsettling, if you’re not expecting them.
Today, after feeling distended and sore, I reclined in bed with my legs up. Nothing dramatic. No rushing. Just listening to what my body was asking for.
And then I heard it.
A soft, hollow, drainage-like sound.
Not painful.
Not sharp.
Just… there.
If you live with an ileostomy, a parastomal hernia, adhesions or any combination of those, you’ll probably recognise it. The kind of noise that makes you pause and wonder:
Is this okay?
Is something wrong?
Here’s what I’m learning
When we change position, especially when we recline and take pressure off the abdomen, gravity starts to help rather than hinder. Fluid and gas that have been sitting awkwardly begin to move. The bowel shifts. Things unkink. Tension eases.
And movement makes noise.
It isn’t a sign of failure.
It isn’t your body “doing something wrong”.
Often, it’s your body finding a gentler route.
What no one really prepares you for is how loud healing and settling can be. We’re taught to fear noises. To associate them with urgency or danger.
But sometimes those sounds are simply the body saying, thank you for stopping.
I’ve noticed that the noises often come before relief. Before the pressure eases. Before nausea settles. They arrive when the body feels safe enough to let go.
That’s something I’m trying to honour more.
Instead of panicking, I stay still. Instead of tensing, I breathe. Instead of rushing to fix, I allow the moment to pass.
Living gently doesn’t always look quiet.
Sometimes it sounds like movement, adjustment, release.
And that’s okay.
This body has been through a lot.
If it needs to make a little noise while it finds comfort, I’m learning to let it.
This post reflects personal experience and reflection, not medical or professional advice.