More often than not, these procedures result in positive outcomes for patients, but not without challenges on the road to recovery. Recently, I had a patient who underwent intestinal resection with placement of an end colostomy for the treatment of her diverticulitis. Fortunately, the procedure was without complications from the surgeon's point of view, but unfortunately this was not the case for the patient. Caring for this patient postoperatively provided me with an excellent opportunity to practice presence. The pain and suffering my patient felt had nothing to do with the mechanical aspect of her surgery, but rather the emotional craters created by the discovery of her colostomy bag. For the patient, a colostomy was the worst case scenario. New colostomies require frequent attention from nurses; check for viable tissue, empty the outlet, and monitor for signs of infection. Every time I assessed the humiliation and shame of the stoma, his mind and body were consumed. After the second flood of these emotions, I stopped in my tracks, pulled up a chair, and asked the patient “how do you feel.” A steady stream of tears streamed down her face as she expressed to me the fear she had in telling her loved one that she would forever have "a mass of feces" outside of her abdomen. My heart cried for her! I couldn't imagine how she must have felt. As a woman, she previously viewed her body as a sacred part of herself that she could share with her partner, but she no longer felt beautiful and sexy, but rather a shame. Her painful emotions struck my heart like lightning, how was I supposed to help her see the beauty of this colostomy? Ultimately, it was my time and patience, coupled with positive affirmations, that eased his fears of the unknown. I have had every opportunity to place ignorance at the forefront of my care and ignore the obvious