I Found My Calling in Life, But It Came at the Price of My Colon

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What started with mozzarella sticks, orange chicken, and a giant chocolate chip cookie from Applebee’s changed the course of my life.

I was 17 years old, touring colleges with my parents and preparing for what I thought would be the next exciting chapter of my life when everything changed.

It started with bloody stools and abdominal cramping. At first, my symptoms were dismissed as hemorrhoids. During that time, after taking antibiotics for cystic hormonal acne, I developed C. difficile. Even after treatment, my symptoms persisted for weeks, and two months later a colonoscopy finally provided the answer: ulcerative colitis.

I was a senior in high school.

Senior Prom (2010): Weeks after my first surgery, I attended prom with my ileostomy.

Instead of worrying about prom, graduation, and college, I found myself navigating doctor’s appointments, medications, hospitalizations, and the uncertainty that comes with living with a chronic invisible illness. Over the next year, ulcerative colitis slowly stole pieces of my life. I was exhausted, constantly sick, and missing out on experiences that most teenagers take for granted. I kept wondering, “How can anyone live a normal life with this disease?” As my illness progressed, so did my fears. I found myself wondering if I would need surgery, whether anyone would notice my ostomy, if anyone would ever love me, and if life would ever feel normal again. At 17 years old, I wasn’t just grieving my health – I was grieving the future I thought I was going to have.

Throughout my illness and recovery, my parents – especially my mom – never stopped believing I would get my life back, even during the moments when I couldn’t believe it myself.

Eventually, after a year-long ulcerative colitis flare, my gastroenterologist referred me to a colorectal surgeon. I expected another consultation, another conversation about treatment options. Instead, after examining me that day, he told me my colon was too diseased to save and that I needed surgery. Just one week later, I was in the operating room. I had spent more than a year fighting to keep my colon, hoping each new medication would be the one that finally worked. Accepting surgery didn’t feel like a choice; it felt like admitting defeat. But my body had reached a point where there were no other options. What I couldn’t see then was that surgery wasn’t the end of my life as I knew it. It was my chance to get it back.

At 18 years old, I underwent the first stage of a planned three-stage J-pouch (IPAA) surgery. I woke up with an ileostomy, suddenly trying to make sense of a body that looked and functioned differently than it had before.  I couldn’t imagine it then, but the surgery I had fought so hard to avoid would become the beginning of my recovery.

Something unexpected happened almost immediately. For the first time in over a year, I wasn’t running to the bathroom. The urgency and frequency were gone. Even though I had just undergone major surgery, I felt better than I had in months. It was only then that I realized how sick I had truly been.

High School Graduation (2010): Graduating with my ileostomy just two months after undergoing major surgery.

I won’t pretend it was easy. Living with an ostomy at 18 brought fears I never imagined I’d face. Like many young people facing ostomy surgery, I was scared. I worried about how I looked, what other people would think, and whether I would ever feel normal again. Going back to high school with an ostomy felt almost as intimidating as the surgery itself. I wasn’t worried about classes – I was worried about using the bathroom, whether my ostomy would make noise, whether anyone would notice my pouch, and whether I would ever feel like a normal teenager again.

One of the most meaningful moments during that time occurred when a nurse arranged for me to meet another young woman living with an ostomy. Until that moment, I thought my future had been taken from me. Watching her laugh, smile, and live her life changed everything. For the first time, I could picture a future for myself. What I didn’t realize then was that this single act would shape the rest of my life.

From that day forward, little by little, I made a decision: I wasn’t going to let my ostomy stop me from living my life.

I returned to high school. I graduated with my class. I went to my senior prom. I started college. I dated. I wore a bikini. I continued lifeguarding and teaching swim lessons, worked at a boutique shoe store, and even posed for a photoshoot.

None of those moments happened because I stopped being afraid. They happened because I refused to let fear make my decisions.

Looking back, I realized my ostomy wasn’t taking my life away – it was giving it back.

During my first hospitalization, something happened that I never expected. The nurses who cared for me inspired me to become a nurse. Their compassion, patience, and encouragement showed me what it meant to care for someone during one of the most vulnerable moments of life. They didn’t just help me recover, they changed the trajectory of my life. While I was still in the hospital, I knew I wanted to become a nurse. I also knew that one day I wanted to care for patients facing the same fears and life-changing surgeries that I was experiencing. That dream guided every step of my career. I earned my Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN), became a Registered Nurse (RN), later completed my Master of Science (MSN) in Nursing as an Adult-Gerontology Acute Care Nurse Practitioner (AGACNP-BC), and ultimately achieved board certification as an Advanced Practice Wound, Ostomy, and Continence Nurse (CWOCN-AP) – the very field that had once cared for me.

I know what it feels like to believe that no one else understands. And I know how powerful it is when someone says, “I’ve been where you are.”

I didn’t become a Wound, Ostomy, and Continence Nurse despite my experience as a patient. I became one because of it.

Today, I work in colorectal surgery, caring for patients with colon and rectal cancer and other complex colorectal conditions. Many are preparing for life with a permanent ostomy, and I have the privilege of helping them navigate that journey. There’s something uniquely powerful about caring for patients when you’ve been the patient yourself.

Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN) Graduation (2015): Earning my BSN and beginning the journey toward becoming the nurse I once needed.

Every day, I care for patients facing many of the same fears, decisions, and questions that once terrified me.  I sit beside patients preparing for ostomy surgery. I answer the questions they’re often afraid to ask.  Most importantly, I remind them that an ostomy is not the end of their story – it’s the beginning of a new chapter.

Because once upon a time, someone did that for me.

Because I’ve been there.

I know what it feels like to wake up after surgery and wonder what comes next.

I know what it feels like to look in the mirror and see a body that has changed.

I know what it feels like to believe that no one else understands.

And I know how powerful it is when someone says, “I’ve been where you are.”

More than a decade later, those fears didn’t end with me. I still hear the very same questions. With tears in their eyes, patients ask me the same questions I once asked myself:

Will anyone notice?

Will I ever feel normal again?

In that moment, I realize I’m not answering as someone who simply studied ostomy care.

I’m answering as someone who has lived it.

I often tell patients that while I would never have chosen ulcerative colitis, I wouldn’t trade the perspective it has given me. My surgeries didn’t restore the life I had before ulcerative colitis; they gave me a different life – one that still includes challenges, but also purpose, gratitude, and the privilege of helping others navigate the path I once walked.

Looking back, ulcerative colitis changed the trajectory of my life in ways I never could have imagined. If you had told my 18-year-old self that one day I would dedicate my career to caring for ostomy patients, I wouldn’t have believed you.

The disease that once felt like the greatest obstacle in my life ultimately led me to my purpose. It took me years to realize that while ulcerative colitis changed my body forever, it also revealed a calling I never knew I was meant to find. Every time I meet a frightened patient preparing for surgery, I think back to the young woman who met with me all those years ago.

Living Life with a J-pouch: Sixteen years later, traveling the world and proving that life after ulcerative colitis surgery can be full of adventure.

She probably had no idea how much that conversation would shape my life.  For years, I kept my story mostly private, sharing it only when I thought it might help a patient. Sixteen years later, I’m sharing it publicly for the same reason someone once shared theirs with me: because sometimes, all it takes is seeing someone who’s been there to believe you’ll be okay.

I hope that by sharing my story, I can be that person for someone else.

Because sometimes the thing that changes your life isn’t the surgery itself.

It’s meeting someone who’s already walked the path you’re about to begin.

It’s realizing you don’t have to face it alone.

It’s realizing your story isn’t ending.

It’s just beginning. ❤️

 

 

 

Kelly Mendello, MSN, AGACNP-BC, CWOCN-AP, OCN, is a Colorectal surgery Nurse Practitioner, Advanced Practice Wound, Ostomy, and Continence Nurse, former ostomy patient, and ostomy advocate. Drawing from both her personal journey and her experience caring for patients with ostomies, she is passionate about patient education, mentorship, and helping others navigate life with confidence after ostomy surgery.

Instagram: @withkellyxo
Email: kellymendellonp@gmail.com

Meet UOAA President Justus Anderson

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New UOAA volunteer leader shares journey with ostomy, surgery and finding a community

I am honored and incredibly excited to step into this role as president and serve this vibrant community. I am dedicated to improving the lives of those living with ostomies and continence diversions as well as those who support them. I am deeply grateful for your trust and support. I have been involved with United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA) since 2019 at the Affiliated Support Group level in positions as a Member, Treasurer, Secretary, Vice President, and President of the Pikes Peak Ostomy Association in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I am still involved in this group and invite you to join us.

Justus Anderson at home in Colorado with horse Festus and dog Aspen.

I grew up in Wyoming and entered the Air Force right after high school. I retired from the military in 2006 and began my ostomy journey in 2017 with a prostate cancer diagnosis. As a result of radiation treatments, I had multiple colo-urethral fistulas and became the proud owner of a loop ileostomy and a suprapubic catheter the day after Christmas, 2018. The intention was to have it reversed within six months and, as with many other new ostomates, I was released into the wild with limited knowledge and resources to help cope with my newfound condition.

I couldn’t stop the leaks and was terrified to leave the house. Fortunately, I have a loving, caring wife who convinced me to attend an ostomy group meeting. Their flyer was tucked in among the mind-numbing stack of papers in my complimentary, ostomy starter kit and hospital discharge folder. We attended our first meeting and realized that it was full of generous, upbeat, helpful people eager to welcome me into their fold! That was the moment I began to heal. Realizing that I did not have to face this alone was a huge step in the trek to recovery! My life was not over; it was just different.

Along the way, I met doctors, marathon runners, airline pilots, hikers, campers and all manner of human beings living full lives with ostomies. It was inspiring, and in 2023, I attended my first UOAA National Conference in Houston. I met more wonderful, caring people dedicated to helping others. That is when my UOAA journey began.

Justus representing UOAA at WOCNext with, left, UOAA Advocacy Manager Jeanine Gleba and center, Speaker Siri Lindley a World champion triathelete, author, coach, and horse rescue founder.

After four and a half years of major and minor surgeries, procedures, and COVID, I managed to have my ileostomy taken down in 2023. I get to keep my suprapubic catheter indefinitely. For those who have had these procedures, you know that that may not end the journey. This experience gave me a deep appreciation for the UOAA and the dedication of its membership. I could not have done it without my local support group and UOAA friends! I am still heavily involved in my local support group, and as you can see, I am now heavily involved in UOAA.

As President, I will work to give back to the organization that has supported me throughout my ostomy experience by strengthening member engagement, expanding outreach to ALL ostomates, and advancing programs that improve quality of life for our members and their caretakers. I will listen closely, communicate openly, and bring people together to turn good ideas into meaningful action. Please continue to share your ideas, concerns, and hopes for our future. I am here to serve you.

The Architecture of Caregiving: Holding the Line When the Current Is Deep

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By Amy Shulfer, RN, MSN, CWON

When medical professionals think about healthcare, our minds naturally drift to the clinical milestones: the successful surgeries, the mastered appliance changes, the stable lab results, and the healing margins of a physical wound. Since 2003, I have spent over two decades navigating these exact clinical spaces as a certified Wound and Ostomy nurse. I know the rhythm of the hospital floor, the precision of a dressing change, and the vital importance of proper patient education.

But there is an entire world of caregiving that happens outside the clean boundaries of a hospital room. It is the invisible architecture of care—the emotional, mental, and spiritual infrastructure required to support a loved one through a chronic diagnosis, a new ostomy, or a long-term illness.

And it is a world I know intimately, not just as a nurse, but as a daughter.

For years, my family lived in the relentless “current” of illness. I navigated my own journey with ulcerative colitis, watched my mother courageously battle multiple sclerosis, and stood beside my father through his own significant health crises, including his journey with an ostomy. In that quiet, heavy space of family caregiving, the clinical boundaries blurred. I wasn’t just checking vitals or ordering supplies; I was holding the hand of the people who raised me, watching the roles reverse, and wondering how to keep from drowning in the exhaustion.

The Myth of the “Perfect Caregiver”

If you are currently caring for a spouse, a parent, or a child navigating an intestinal or urinary diversion, you likely know the weight of the phrase, “I’m fine.”

Caregivers are notorious for wearing a mask of absolute strength. We believe that to be a good caregiver, we must be unbreakable. We tell ourselves that our exhaustion is a sign of failure, that our moments of frustration mean we aren’t loving enough, and that asking for help is an admission of defeat.

But human structural integrity isn’t built to hold up a house alone during a storm.

In my years at both the professional bedside and the personal bedside, I have learned that the emotional toll of caregiving is often heavier than the physical labor. It is the constant undercurrent of anticipatory grief, the anxiety of the unknown, and the profound isolation of feeling like no one truly understands the day-to-day reality of your home.

When my family’s health trials were at their heaviest, I had to completely re-evaluate what it meant to love and serve through hardship. I had to learn that real love isn’t defined by the easy things—the laughter, the vacations, or the quiet moments of comfort.

Here is an excerpt from my memoir, Carried Through, where I had to put words to this exact breaking point:

“I never imagined that faith and suffering would be so intertwined. When I was younger, I thought faith meant believing that everything would turn out okay, that prayers for healing would be answered, that pain would be temporary, and that miracles would come if I just believed hard enough. But life reshapes faith, especially when sickness, caregiving, and loss become part of your daily reality.

I have lived with chronic illness. I have watched my parents battle diseases. I have lost dear friends far too soon. I have sat beside a dying patient, feeling the mystery of a soul departing from its earthly body… We think love is the easy things: the laughter, the vacations, the way someone holds your hand in a crowded room. But real love is steadier than that. Real love shows up with steady hands on the hardest days.”

Finding Your Anchor in the Storm

If you are a caregiver reading this today and your hands feel anything but steady, please hear me: You do not have to swim alone. Loving someone who is suffering is a sacred calling, but it requires a community to sustain it.

To help anchor your heart when the current feels too deep, I want to share three practical, grounding truths that saved me during my family’s darkest valleys:

  1. Give Up the Control, Keep the Faith

Much of a caregiver’s anxiety comes from trying to control outcomes we cannot touch. We cannot force a wound to heal faster, and we cannot predict every complication. Realizing that you are not the grand architect of the universe is not a failure, it is a liberation. It allows you to focus strictly on the next hour, the next step, and the next breath, trusting that there is a steady presence holding the rest together.

  1. Embrace the “Breath Prayer”

When you are sitting in a sterile hospital waiting room or dealing with a difficult appliance leak at 2:00 AM, a long, elegant prayer feels completely out of reach. In those moments, give yourself permission to use “breath prayers”, short, simple cries of the heart that can be spoken in a single inhale and exhale.

(Inhale) Lord, give me Your strength… (Exhale) For this next step.

(Inhale) I cannot hold this… (Exhale) But You can.

  1. Lean on Specialized Advocacy

You cannot be the medical expert, the emotional rock, and the logistical coordinator all at once without resources. Organizations like the United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA) exist precisely because this journey requires structural support. Whether it is finding a local support group, accessing educational material that takes the mystery out of a new stoma, or connecting with an ostomy outpatient clinic, utilizing these tools is an act of strength, not weakness.

You Are Still Being Carried

To the caregiver standing at the bedside today, the one navigating the heavy silence of a changing diagnosis, or the one balancing your own health battles while supporting someone else: your identity is not defined by the illness in the room. You are more than a patient, and you are more than a caregiver.

Even on the days when you feel creased, folded, and entirely spent, your service is seen. Your quiet resilience is creating a legacy of love that endures far beyond the clinical challenges. Take a breath, allow yourself to be human, and remember that even when you don’t have the strength to carry the weight, you are being safely carried through.

 

Amy Shulfer, RN, MSN, CWON, is the author of the new memoir, Carried Through: A Daughter’s Reflections of Love, Loss, and the God Who Carries Us, available on Amazon. She is also the creator of the YouTube channel “Ostomy Care with Angel Face Amy,” where she shares practical advice, clinical advocacy, and heartfelt encouragement for the IBD and ostomy community.

SUPPORTED BY FAMILY AND FAITH: MISA’S SHORT BOWEL SYNDROME STORY

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My name is Misa and I’m a busy woman who has never had time to be sick. Not when I was young and not today. I credit my strength, my core energy, and my resilience to my family! My mother and father, who immigrated to the United States from Libya, are both strong-minded and strong-willed individuals who always told us to keep trying and never give up. Little did I know how important this lesson was going to be when I was facing my numerous health challenges.

If you are living with Short Bowel Syndrome and rely on parenteral support, there’s an SBS Mentor available to connect with you. Click here to learn more.

A Mother’s Strength: Searching for Answers

When I was about 13 years old, I got extremely sick with what seemed like non-stop diarrhea. I spent hours on the couch, hunched over and I was in constant pain. Doctors told my mother that my illness was psychological, but she believed me that this was serious. Eventually, she found a gastroenterologist who took the time to find out that there was something physically wrong with me. That’s when my doctor diagnosed me with Crohn’s disease and colitis. From that day of diagnosis, nothing in my life followed a usual pattern.

From ages 14 to 18, my illness and symptoms were treated with multiple drugs and treatments, but none seemed to work for me. I would experience side effects, so my doctor would adjust my dosage, but the symptoms of my Crohn’s and colitis just came back. I was one of those cases that the doctors said didn’t respond to typical treatments. As a teenager, I went through depression and stages of asking, “Why is this happening to me?” “Why is God punishing me?” “What did I do?”

At age 18, my Crohn’s and colitis had gotten so bad that I weighed just 95 pounds and was sick all the time. I hated my life and all the pain I experienced every day. I just wanted the pain to stop. My mother never gave up looking for answers. She sought the advice of relatives outside of the United States about options, and ended up flying with me to London, where a wonderful doctor performed a surgery to alleviate bowel narrowing in my colon and small intestines. This was the first of more than a dozen Crohn’s-related surgeries that I would endure. We spent three weeks in London, then traveled home. I was sore but healing.

Even after that first surgery, we still couldn’t manage my Crohn’s disease and colitis. Two years later, we were referred to a wonderful doctor, who would later perform the surgery that gave me my permanent ileostomy. To me, my ileostomy felt like “freedom”. I was looking forward to living without pain, even if it would only last for a short time. And, as it turned out, that’s all it lasted for.

A New Diagnosis: Short Bowel Syndrome

The next several years could best be characterized by a sense of change. Every two years or so, my Crohn’s disease would flare up, not respond to any treatment, and leave me back in surgery, needing another bowel resection. That didn’t stop my drive to live and succeed. I wanted to travel, so I did! I enjoyed being on the move and seeing the change in scenery. It wasn’t just my health; it was my personal life as well. With my medical history, I never thought to get married or have kids. I felt I couldn’t burden anyone with all my baggage.

After I had my ileostomy surgery in 1995, I was volunteering on a friend’s horse farm, and I met my husband. We dated for five years before marrying when I was 31 years old. Due to the surgeries I had already endured, a child was not in my thought process. At the age of 32, I had my daughter. At age 40, I gave birth to my son. Both of my children were gifts! Even with my multiple surgeries and extremely shortened intestines, my body was functioning and surviving, and I was living life.

It wasn’t until I was 43 that a surgery left me in intensive care with a fistula in my abdominal wall. My doctors officially diagnosed me with short bowel syndrome (SBS), because I was unable to absorb enough nutrients from the food I ate and needed to be put on parenteral support (PS), also known as parenteral nutrition. I remained on PS every day for nearly two years.

All my surgeries left me with no large intestine, no rectum, and less than 90 centimeters of small bowel. When my surgeon told me all of this after the surgery, I knew I would have to rely on the strength that I’ve inherited from my mother and father to keep going.

At this point, my body was dumping everything into my ostomy bag, and I was malnourished. My freedom and my energy were gone. I couldn’t take care of my animals or my family. This was a very dark time for me.

I was hospitalized multiple times over the next several months. I only weighed 88 pounds. My body didn’t have the ability to absorb any nutrients. Not knowing what to do, I turned to my faith and I prayed. And then I started to fight even harder. I had to be tough like my mom had been when she fought to get me properly diagnosed.

Learning About An SBS Treatment

When my surgeon told me about a prescription medication, GATTEX® (teduglutide) for subcutaneous injection, that is approved for people aged one and older with SBS who need additional nutrition or fluids from intravenous (IV) feeding (parenteral support), I was intrigued, but leery. It is not known if GATTEX is safe and effective in children under one year of age.

My doctor and I discussed how GATTEX might help and she also told me about the possible serious side effects, including making abnormal cells grow faster, polyps in the intestines, blockage of the bowel (intestines), swelling (inflammation) or blockage of the gallbladder or pancreas, and fluid overload. After doing some reading about the medication, I decided I wasn’t ready to try it.

Please continue reading for additional Important Safety Information.

Soon after, my doctor heard there was an informational program about GATTEX, and she encouraged me to attend. While at the program, I looked around the room and saw people who were a lot like me. As we talked, and we shared our stories, I was in disbelief and awe at the same time. We all brought our own experiences, but we found that we had many of the same thoughts, fears, and worries. We connected in a way that I had never connected with anyone before.

After learning more about GATTEX and speaking with my doctor, I decided that it was right for me to start treatment.

Prior to starting GATTEX, I was receiving two to three liters of IV fluids with magnesium and potassium, seven days per week. Over time, my doctors have worked with me to get the amount of IV fluids, potassium, and magnesium I infuse just right. I think we’ve found a good balance now. Currently, I am able to take and absorb two potassium tablets orally daily. I infuse a half liter of sodium chloride three times a week and a half a liter of sodium chloride with magnesium two times a week. But my healthcare team and I are always monitoring my condition, and each person’s experience and treatment may be different than mine. It has taken a few years to get to where I am now with my infusions, but my doctors and I are very pleased with my results while taking GATTEX. Even still, I have experienced injection site reactions, such as redness around the injection site, bowel blockages, and on occasion, nausea. I worked with my doctor to manage these reactions. This is just my experience; everyone reacts differently to medicine.

Sharing My Story to Encourage Perseverance

My doctors are wonderful. I have a great rapport with each of them. I think the strength of that solid relationship is that we communicate really well. They don’t dictate to me what is going to happen. We talk openly, and they consider my opinion. We work together to figure out what works for me. It’s very one-to-one communication. I feel like I’m an active participant in my healthcare. I’ve lived with this illness for a very long time, so I know a thing or two about it. And my doctors respect that.

While many people could see these life experiences and dwell on the negatives, I choose to live each day experiencing new things, seeing new places, and meeting new people. I travel, work in my garden, and raise my dogs. I believe it is a privilege to share my personal experiences with illness, surgeries, and treatments with the hope that they will give others the strength to keep pushing for their own answers.

IMPORTANT SAFETY INFORMATION

What is the most important information I should know about GATTEX? GATTEX may cause serious side effects, including:

Making abnormal cells grow faster

GATTEX can make abnormal cells that are already in your body grow faster. There is an increased risk that abnormal cells could become cancer. If you get cancer of the bowel (intestines), liver, gallbladder or pancreas while using GATTEX, your healthcare provider should stop GATTEX. If you get other types of cancers, you and your healthcare provider should discuss the risks and benefits of using GATTEX.

Polyps in the intestines 

Polyps are growths on the inside of the intestines. For adult patients, your healthcare provider will have your colon and upper intestines checked for polyps within 6 months before starting GATTEX, and have any polyps removed. To keep using GATTEX, your healthcare provider should have your colon and upper intestines checked for polyps at the end of 1 year of using GATTEX.

For pediatric patients, your healthcare provider will check for blood in the stool within 6 months before starting GATTEX. If there is blood in the stool, your healthcare provider will check your colon and upper intestines for polyps, and have any polyps removed. To keep using GATTEX, your healthcare provider will check for blood in the stool every year during treatment of GATTEX. If there is blood in the stool, your healthcare provider will check your colon and upper intestines for polyps. The colon will be checked for polyps at the end of 1 year of using GATTEX.

For adult and pediatric patients, if no polyp is found at the end of 1 year, your healthcare provider should check you for polyps as needed and at least every 5 years. If any new polyps are found, your healthcare provider will have them removed and may recommend additional monitoring. If cancer is found in a polyp, your healthcare provider should stop GATTEX.

Blockage of the bowel (intestines)

A bowel blockage keeps food, fluids, and gas from moving through the bowels in the normal way. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you have any of these symptoms of a bowel or stomal blockage:

  • trouble having a bowel movement or passing gas
  • stomach area (abdomen) pain or swelling
  • nausea
  • vomiting
  • swelling and blockage of your stoma opening, if you have a stoma

If a blockage is found, your healthcare provider may temporarily stop GATTEX.

Swelling (inflammation) or blockage of your gallbladder or pancreas

Your healthcare provider will do tests to check your gallbladder and pancreas within 6 months before starting GATTEX and at least every 6 months while you are using GATTEX. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you get:

  • stomach area (abdomen) pain and tenderness
  • chills
  • fever
  • a change in your stools
  • nausea
  • vomiting
  • dark urine
  • yellowing of your skin or the whites of your eyes

Fluid overload

Your healthcare provider will check you for too much fluid in your body. Too much fluid in your body may lead to heart failure, especially if you have heart problems. Tell your healthcare provider if you get swelling in your feet and ankles, you gain weight very quickly (water weight), or you have trouble breathing.

The most common side effects of GATTEX include:

  • stomach area (abdomen) pain or swelling
  • nausea
  • cold or flu symptoms
  • skin reaction where the injection was given
  • vomiting
  • swelling of the hands or feet
  • allergic reactions

The side effects of GATTEX in children and adolescents are similar to those seen in adults. Tell your healthcare provider if you have any side effect that bothers you or that does not go away.

What should I tell my healthcare provider before using GATTEX?

Tell your healthcare provider about all your medical conditions, including if you or your child:

  • have cancer or a history of cancer
  • have or had polyps anywhere in your bowel (intestines) or rectum
  • have heart problems
  • have high blood pressure
  • have problems with your gallbladder, pancreas, kidneys
  • are pregnant or planning to become It is not known if GATTEX will harm your unborn baby. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you become pregnant while using GATTEX.
  • are breastfeeding or plan to breastfeed. It is not known if GATTEX passes into your breast milk. You should not breastfeed during treatment with GATTEX. Talk to your healthcare provider about the best way to feed your baby while using GATTEX.

Tell your healthcare providers about all the medicines you take, including prescription or over-the counter medicines, vitamins, and herbal supplements. Using GATTEX with certain other medicines may affect each other causing side effects. Your other healthcare providers may need to change the dose of any oral medicines (medicines taken by mouth) you take while using GATTEX. Tell the healthcare provider who gives you GATTEX if you will be taking a new oral medicine.

Call your doctor for medical advice about side effects. You are encouraged to report negative side effects of prescription drugs to the FDA. Visit www.fda.gov/medwatch or call 1-800-FDA-1088.

What is GATTEX?

GATTEX® (teduglutide) for subcutaneous injection is a prescription medicine used in adults and children 1 year of age and older with Short Bowel Syndrome (SBS) who need additional nutrition or fluids from intravenous (IV) feeding (parenteral support). It is not known if GATTEX is safe and effective in children under 1 year of age.

For additional safety information, click here for full Prescribing Information and Medication Guide, and discuss any questions with your doctor.

To learn more about Short Bowel Syndrome and a prescription treatment visit https://www.gattex.com/short-bowel-syndrome/

Editor’s Note: This educational article is from one of our digital sponsors, Takeda. Sponsor support along with donations from our readers like you help to maintain our website and the free trusted resources of UOAA, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

©2026 Takeda Pharmaceuticals U.S.A., Inc. 1-877-TAKEDA-7 (1-877-825-3327). All rights reserved. TAKEDA and the TAKEDA logo are trademarks or registered trademarks of Takeda Pharmaceutical Company Limited. GATTEX and the GATTEX logo are registered trademarks of Takeda Pharmaceuticals U.S.A., Inc. US-TED-1743v1.0 06/26

 

Resilience Story: Brittany Jackamonis

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Health and wellness have always been a big part of my life’s journey. I grew up running track and cheerleading, and then found a new love in CrossFit in 2012, which really took fitness to another level for me. As a wife, mom, minister, and police officer, I was living out some of my healthiest and best years.

But life took a sudden turn in September 2022. Severe stomach pain dropped me to my knees. It was discovered that I had ulcerative colitis; a chronic inflammatory bowel disease that causes inflammation and ulcers in your colon and rectum. I was already at the level of what doctors refer to as a Mayo 3, most severe.

Life spiraled quickly: instant dramatic weight loss, six colonoscopies later, multiple hospital visits and stays, various CT scans, lengthy infusion sessions, infections throughout the colon, in and out of a restroom multiple times a day; my quality of life no longer existed. I suffered painfully, while still trying to show up for my family, career, and ministry.

Talks about an ostomy bag started very early into my diagnosis, but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around having a bag attached to my stomach. I endured pain and suffering but surgery eventually had to happen; life simply couldn’t carry on the way it was going for me.

Then came the ostomy in January 2026! And I can actually say this with pure excitement! Because although I had to have my entire colon removed and a piece of my small intestine (stoma) flipped to the outside of my stomach, my quality of life is back! My fitness is back! My health is back! I’m fully back for my family, my career, and ministry!

My ostomy gave me the option of restoring my health, and has shown me a new level of resilience. It doesn’t define who I am, but proves strength, perseverance, and empowerment!

Working in law enforcement with an ostomy is pretty unique. When I first returned to work after  two months off, I remember being excited and anxious. I was excited to be feeling so much better and returning to my Team, but anxious to see how wearing my gear around my waist would feel on my bag. I remember going to the shooting range for practice just to feel how different shooting positions and pulling from my holster felt. All has been extremely normal and well for me back on duty! It’s been 18 years in law enforcement, and I can still do everything the same!

I wanted a fun active way to bring those with ostomies together to be bold and build confidence.

I learned about UOAA by doing research online a few months after my surgery. I knew I wanted to do something big in the ostomy community but I didn’t want to reinvent the wheel. I found UOAA and the Ostomy 5Ks that take place around the Nation, and I was all in! I knew I had to bring this type of energy and awareness to South Carolina.”

I wanted a fun active way to bring those with ostomies together to be bold and build confidence. I noticed right away that many people with an ostomy were ashamed and lacked confidence. I knew it was time for a confidence boost! I also want a way for the community to show up to support and become more aware of what ostomy bags are and how much they truly give life back. I’m excited to host the Inaugural Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k in Columbia, SC on  Saturday, October 10th in celebration Ostomy Awareness Day at the beautiful Sesquicentennial State Park! 

I’m also happy to be back at my favorite place, Carolina CrossFit It is a breath of fresh air! I lift and move just fine. If we have burpees, wall walks, bar muscle ups (those movements that require you to have pressure near the stoma area) I know when and how to modify. I limit myself little to none when it comes to fitness. An ostomy bag doesn’t stop my CrossFit workouts. Put a barbell in my hand any day, and we are taking it for a nice spin!

My advice is (after being cleared from your doctor and discussing parastomal hernia risk), don’t limit yourself. Know what works for you, stay hydrated, secure your stoma and ostomy bag with a fitness wrap, and put in the work. You’re not immobile, you’re just uniquely you!

Every ostomate’s journey is different, but one thing is commonly shared: We are resilient!

 

Celebrate your resilience and participate in a Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k event near you or host your own Virtual Ostomy 5k event wherever you are. Donate in honor of Brittany’s resilience or learn more about her Ostomy 5k event in South Carolina!

Finding Bladder Cancer Support Everywhere

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Younger women are not the typical bladder cancer and urostomy patients, but a variety of support and resources do exist to help you

By Liz Hiles

In August 2016, when I was diagnosed with bladder cancer, there was very little information about WOMEN and bladder cancer, let alone finding adequate support for anyone with bladder cancer.  Receiving a diagnosis that I hadn’t even heard of before, didn’t know the symptoms for, and had never heard of anyone I knew who had faced the diagnosis, my first thought at 40 years old was, “I’m too young to die.”

I really thought that I would surely die when I received my diagnosis, especially since I had been going to the Emergency Room periodically for years and was gaslit, ignored, and brushed off every single time. I was a deer in headlights and didn’t know what was coming or where to look for what I needed.

Going into a cancer diagnosis, many have cancer blinders on — meaning the only thing they can think about is cancer, treatment, and trying to survive. For 8 months to a year, I lived with those blinders on. I was too exhausted to think outside of any box or do any extra activities. When I went back to work in April 2017, it was all I could do for several months was make it through the work day and get home. Outside of that, I slept deeply.

While I was waiting for surgery, I tried finding a bladder cancer support group near me. There was absolutely nothing. When I asked my urology oncology surgeon, his only suggestion was to “try Facebook.” Yes, there absolutely are lots of groups on Facebook. I’m always a bit wary of those, as they are not always run ethically and are never moderated by licensed therapists or social workers, so the information and support you get is not always accurate or appropriate. I proceeded with caution there. 

At some point during treatment, I found some support websites and even an online chat via website or app that I was able to utilize. All focused on cancer in some way. They were moderately helpful, but I didn’t feel a strong connection, inclusivity on multiple levels, and a deeper understanding of my experiences. After I struck out at my local Cancer Support Community location, I recalled my WOC nurse telling me about an ostomy group. I couldn’t remember the name or find the information she gave me, so I called her up. After a brief but extremely helpful conversation about several issues I was having, I had the name of my local UOAA Affiliated Support Group written down and sought them out. 

That’s really when the support factor clicked in for me. The first meeting I went to was a social one, at a local restaurant. We met for dinner. There was one gentleman who like me, was also a bladder cancer survivor with a urostomy. Everyone else had fecal diversions of various types. Still, I found more compassion, empathy, and understanding for everything I went through there than I did from any other source I had tried to date. 

Support is like putting together a salad and tossing it well. A salad is horrible with just lettuce – you need lots of other ingredients to make it delicious!

Since that time, I’ve expanded my support circles, finding the right mix of cancer, bladder cancer, young adult cancer, ostomy, and spoonie support. I have made connections via the internet, Zoom, and even in person at events like UOAA’s National Conference. My experiences have helped me through some of the most challenging times of the last 10 years.

When it comes to support, my advice to anyone facing a new diagnosis is always two-fold:

  1. Welcome support into your life. You will need it. 
  2. Try a plethora of different support venues: via social media, Zoom, or in-person. Try everything at least twice before making the decision of whether or not you will fit in with the group. 

No single group or organization will fit all of your resource or support needs. Support is like putting together a salad and tossing it well. A salad is horrible with just lettuce – you need lots of other ingredients to make it delicious!

Throughout the years, I have managed to come together with individuals and organizations like UOAA to build a wonderful support network for myself. Without support, I would not have made it this far. Without support, I would not have come into the various opportunities that I’ve been fortunate enough to experience and collaborate on. 

In January 2026, I had the opportunity to come together with the Tigerlily Foundation and fellow survivors, Dee Masters and Brittney Tellekampto to bring bladder cancer to the forefront of conversations in women’s health and bring more awareness to the disease beyond the stereotypical patient: old, white, chain-smoking, male. 

The organization chose to highlight the three of us various backgrounds and experiences. 

The three of us were flown into Nashville, TN, for a weekend retreat to film our personal bladder cancer stories and a panel discussion while getting to converse, support, and bond over being launched into a mutual club that no one ever wants to join: the cancer club. 

Support continues to help make my life complete. It drives me through the hard days and inspires me to pay acts of kindness forward. 

Dee Master is a woman of Indian descent living in the Knoxville, TN area, was diagnosed at 33 with a recurrence 4 years later. She has experienced multiple procedures, including numerous cystoscopies, undergone various treatments, and has managed to retain her bladder. 

Brittney Tellekamp was diagnosed  with Stage IV Metastatic Bladder Cancer at the age of 28 and underwent a radical cystectomy, full hysterectomy, lymphadenectomy, and received an ileal conduit (stoma). She is speaking out with TigerLilly about sexual health issues for young women with bladder cancer. 

One of the most common themes we noticed was the challenges we faced in finding support that fit our needs and how rare it was to find other young adult women in the bladder cancer realm – especially those willing to talk about their journeys. 

Finding support is a critical part of surviving treatment and succeeding in survivorship. Yet it is an area that is often overlooked or ignored by the clinical teams who treat cancer patients. 

On May 1, 2026, the Tigerlily Foundation launched its brand new bladder cancer awareness campaign with a new resource page going live on its website. Throughout May and June, more information will be shared, along with video releases of our stories and panel discussion. The organization also plans on concentrated social media posts in October in support of ostomy awareness as well. 

Support continues to help make my life complete. It drives me through the hard days and inspires me to pay acts of kindness forward. 

_______________________________________

Liz is now 50 years old. A lifelong Cincinnati resident, she works in a school system by day and in her free time, she spends it advocating for various health issues, including bladder cancer, young adult cancer and ostomies.  To connect with Liz, go to her Linktree.

Follow the Tigerlily Foundation on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, TikTok, YouTube, and Bluesky to connect with this campaign as it rolls out. To To connect with Dee, find her on Instagram @mamadragon9.

Resilience Story: Denise Miller

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On Nov. 6, 2022 I was bike riding with my husband and started having pain on my right side. Dr. Goggle said it could be appendicitis. So, I went to the ER and found that it was not my appendix but that I had ovarian cancer. At the time, 55 years old, I thought I was in good health. I was shocked, depressed and scared to death having to deal with cancer. I went to the oncologist and was learned I was going to need a total hysterotomy and that there was a shadow on my large intestine but that she would not know what it was until the surgery.

There was the possibility that I would need a colostomy. Ok, I thought, now dealing with cancer and the possibility of an ostomy, I was more depressed and felt my life was over. How can I deal with an ostomy and cancer?

On December 27, 2022 I went in for my surgery and came out with an ostomy. Apparently, the cancer had wrapped itself around the large intestine and a large portion had to be removed. I was given a colostomy and a chance to leave a normal healthy life.

I was depressed though and thought how in the world can I go on with this? The cancer part was gone and I did not have to go through chemo but on medicine and three month check-ups with an oncologist for the next five years. But now I had to deal with an ostomy.

Shortly after I was home from the hospital, I met my guardian angel (The greatest ostomy nurse) Andrea Torok who taught me, encouraged me and helped me mentally get through so much dealing with an ostomy. I was told I could do what I did before and more. She and my husband Guy Miller got me through so much and I’m so grateful for them both.

Andrea encouraged me to start an ostomy support group in Ann Arbor, Michigan and I thought, what? Me? I have no clue how to do that?

I feel great running and so much healthier, with more energy than before.

United Ostomy Associations of America assisted me in starting an affiliated group and after two years we have about 20 people in the group.

I was also excited to feel better and started running again as I had before surgery. Once able to get back to running I was soon doing 5K races and winning my age group! I feel great running and so much healthier, with more energy than before. I wear a binder when running daily and lifting weights.

I also hike, bike and live life to the fullest. I for sure have my down days, but think that I am here, healthy and helping others any way that I can.

Last year I was thrilled to learn about the Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k that is celebrated by UOAA for National Ostomy Awareness Day.

I traveled to Cleveland, Ohio from Michigan for the event. I felt very inspired by all those that participated in the run/walk. People wearing their bags on the outside of their clothes, the shirts folks wore, and just feeling so comfortable about their ostomy. I felt very welcomed and free to wear my ostomy outside my clothes and not feel ashamed.

I was inspired to increase awareness of ostomies in Michigan so this year I’m organizing the first annual Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k in Ann Arbor on Saturday, October 3, 2026.

Many people have them but feel like cannot talk about it and that makes me sad.

As I have been fundraising for this event and the mission of UOAA, I have heard so many stories about people that have ostomies, know someone, or have had an ostomy reversed and want to be a part of increasing awareness.

I have realized that I am not alone in this and so many people in Michigan want to help and be a part of this. I also have a goal of getting the younger generation involved.

Ostomies do save lives and we can do what we want if we put our minds to it!

 

Celebrate your resilience and participate in a Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k event near you or host your own Virtual Ostomy 5k event wherever you are. Donate in honor of Denise’s resilience or learn more about her Ostomy 5k event in Michigan!

Smashing Cancer and Stoma Stigma

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By Kevin Smets

I never imagined that one of the most defining chapters of my life would begin just one month before my daughter was born.

In 2020, I was diagnosed with stage 3 colorectal cancer. A few weeks later, as my family was preparing to welcome my daughter into the world, I was preparing for something entirely different. I started chemotherapy and radiation the very same week she was born. While most new dads are figuring out diapers and sleep schedules, I was learning how to fight for my life at the same time I was learning how to be a father.

Through it all, my wife Dasha was the backbone of our family. She took care of both of us, stepping into a role that no one ever expects to have to play. Watching her carry that weight with strength and love is something I’ll never forget.

Before everything changed, I was part of something truly special called The Schmoedown – it was like WWE meets movie trivia, where larger-than-life characters and real competition collided. I stepped into that world as “The Smasher,” and what started as a persona quickly became something the fans rallied behind in a very real way. They even started a #SmashCancer movement that really carried me through it all, along the way the fans even held a 24-hour stream fundraiser that literally lifted my family up financially while I couldn’t work for nearly a year.

That preparation didn’t just help me physically, it gave me control in a situation where most things felt out of my hands.

And then after nine months of fighting, under the care of such wonderful oncologists and surgeons at UCLA medical center, I underwent stoma surgery. But here’s something that made a huge difference for me mentally. About five months before the surgery, I already knew there was a strong chance I would end up with a stoma. So instead of avoiding it, I leaned in. I researched everything I could. In my research and quest to be more educated I leaned on sites like Ostomy.org and colonclub to really acquaint myself for the journey ahead, and it was a crucial part of my surgery prep.

By the time ostomy surgery came around, I was so prepared that nurses actually commented that I knew as much as they did. That preparation didn’t just help me physically, it gave me control in a situation where most things felt out of my hands.

Today, I’m proud to say I’m in remission.

But the journey didn’t stop there.

I decided to start sharing my story online, documenting my stoma and ostomy journey. The reason was simple, and honestly, a bit personal. A friend once told me their cousin said they would rather die than have an ostomy. That stuck with me. I couldn’t shake it. And I knew right then that there was a stigma that needed to be broken.

So I made it my mission to smash that stigma.

Since then, I’ve received messages from people still in their hospital beds, sometimes just waking up from emergency surgery, telling me they found my content and it helped them feel less alone. Those messages mean everything to me.

If sharing my experience can help even one person feel stronger, more prepared, or more hopeful, then it’s all worth it.

This journey isn’t just about survival. It’s about mindset. It’s about showing that life doesn’t end with an ostomy, it just changes. And sometimes, that change can lead to a purpose you never saw coming.

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In addition to Kevin’s Youtube channel you can find him on TikTok and as @Kevsmashcancer on Instagram.

The Intersection of Race and Health: Advocating for Patients in Education and Access

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By Michael Ashley Turner

Having physicians not listen to you
Not being taken seriously
Not having affordable health options
Having organizations want to use your story but not see representation of people that look like you on their social media

photo credit Jermaine & Catrone Turner of Jpixstudios

Coming into spaces and not being able to engage due to lack of diversity
Not being property educated on medical issues
Reached out to organizations to help bridge the gap between their diversity.

Appreciative to UOAA for meeting with me
Being misdiagnosed for years due to doctors not wanting to take the extra steps
Micro aggression that physicians have given me vs when I’ve been seen with a Caucasian friend.

It’s not every day that we enter spaces, especially in health and wellness, where Black and Brown people are truly represented and advocated for. I’ve had my share of experiences in medical offices and health organizations where I was not heard, not advocated for, and not taken seriously about what I had been experiencing for years.

For context, I was born in Chicago and now call Atlanta home, but in many ways my real “home” has been found through the journey I’ve taken with my health and career.

For more than 14 years, I lived with chronic digestive issues that shaped almost every part of my life. The experience was confusing, isolating, and exhausting. I went from appointment to appointment searching for answers while trying to explain symptoms that doctors often dismissed or minimized. Eventually my condition led to a total colectomy and ostomy. It was not until 2022 that I finally received a definitive diagnosis: Crohn’s disease. Hearing the words was difficult, but it also brought clarity after years of uncertainty.

The truth is that my story is not unique. Many people living with chronic illness experience long delays in diagnosis. For many Black patients, the path can be even more complicated. There were times when I felt that physicians simply were not listening to me. My symptoms were questioned. 

My pain was downplayed. The extra testing and deeper investigation that could have happened earlier often did not happen. Years later, I would realize that those missed steps contributed to how long it took to get the correct diagnosis.

There were also moments when the difference in treatment was impossible to ignore. I remember appointments where subtle comments or dismissive attitudes felt like microaggressions. In some situations I noticed a clear difference in how physicians communicated with me compared to how they spoke to a Caucasian friend who accompanied me. Those moments stay with you. They make you question whether your voice is truly valued in the room.

Access to healthcare has also been part of the challenge. Affordable medical options are not always available, and navigating insurance while dealing with a chronic illness can feel overwhelming. When you are already managing pain, fatigue, and uncertainty, the financial side of healthcare becomes another barrier that many people quietly carry.

I believe representation, access, and education should exist in every part of healthcare.

Beyond the exam room, representation matters in the organizations that claim to support patients. There have been times when groups wanted to share my story or highlight my experience, but when I looked at their social media or leadership spaces I did not see people who looked like me. Representation cannot stop at storytelling. It has to exist in leadership, advocacy, education, and the faces that are consistently visible in those spaces.

There have also been events and community spaces where I simply did not feel like I could fully engage because the diversity was not there. When people cannot see themselves reflected in a space, it can create distance even when the mission is meant to be inclusive.

photo credit Jermaine & Catrone Turner of Jpixstudios

One of the biggest gaps I noticed early on was education. Many communities, especially communities of color, are not always given the same level of accessible information about GI conditions, ostomies, and chronic illness management. When education is missing, people are left trying to figure things out on their own. That can delay care, increase fear, and make an already difficult journey feel even more isolating.

Because of these experiences, I began reaching out to organizations and advocacy groups to have real conversations about diversity and representation. My goal has never been to criticize for the sake of criticism. My goal has always been to help bridge the gap so that future patients do not feel as invisible as many of us once did.

I am grateful for the organizations that are willing to listen and engage in those conversations. One example is United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA), who took the time to meet with me and hear my perspectives. Those kinds of conversations matter. When organizations open the door to dialogue, real progress becomes possible.

Through all of this, I have learned that our struggles can become the very thing that pushes us to show up for others. My journey has led me to advocate for people living with ostomies, GI conditions, and mental health challenges. I share my story so others know they are not alone and so that healthcare spaces can continue to evolve.

Illness changes your life. It forces you to ask hard questions about your body, your voice, and your place in systems that do not always work equally for everyone. But it can also create purpose. It can open the door for advocacy, education, and community building.

I believe representation, access, and education should exist in every part of healthcare. Patients deserve to be heard. They deserve to be taken seriously. They deserve to see themselves reflected in the spaces that claim to support them.

And most importantly, they deserve care that honors their full humanity.

Gloria the Phoenix

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Remembering Gloria by Bob Kwiatkowski

Gloria and I met by chance in November of 1969. I was driving with a friend down 8 mile road in Detroit. Gloria was with two of her friends in a car that passed us by. We caught up and started flirting with them.

I asked if they would want to meet us at a popular pizza place in Detroit.

We were surprised that they did meet us there. While my friend talked to Gloria’s two friends I talked to her. Within minutes I thought “I want to Marry this girl” She bowled me over.

We went out every day afterward and three days later, I asked her to marry me. She said “Yes but I have to tell you something, I have an ostomy.” Gloria went on to explain that she was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis at six years old. She said that she spent a lot of time worrying about where the bathrooms were, what she ate, etc. her sisters said that she was always in and out of a Children’s Hospital.

She was later properly diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. She said the surgery totally changed her life for the better, she put on weight was able to eat things she never could before. I didn’t fully understand it but I told her that if it saved her life, it was sure worth it.

Embracing Life

She was her senior class President, the first female class president. She graduated with Honors from Wayne State University and she worked for the Michigan Cancer Society for over forty years (later renamed the Karmanos Cancer Institute)

We married in 1971 and had 54 totally awesome years together.

I loved and was blessed with a wonderful women– who just happened to have a stoma.

She was so much fun. We both loved live music and attended over 100 concerts in life. She was my concert buddy.

We’re big Detroit football fans and have had Lions season tickets for 45+ years. Gloria was my Lions Football buddy.

I learned about Rolf Benirschke’s organization in the Phoenix Magazine. We were huge fans. We watched many of his games as an NFL placekicker. I was able to contact and talk to him and it is great to see all he has accomplished since.

Medical Challenges

Gloria had 28 major surgeries in life, breast cancer, a total hysterectomy, and many stoma revisions including one in 2000 at the Cleveland Clinic. Peritonitis twice, nothing ever got her down, she was always positive. Always joking with the doctors and nurses prior to and after surgery.

Gloria always worried about everyone but herself. She had four sisters and they’ve all been healthy, Gloria told me she was glad that she got everything rather than her sisters.

She loved UOAA and the Crohn’s and Colitis foundation. She volunteered with the local chapter in her younger days.

Caregiving

Luckily, I learned how to change her ostomy pouch. Gloria was in and out of hospitals in her last year, she died from a fungal infection that did not respond to anti-fungal’s. Gloria was on Imuran for 30 years, it really helped with Crohn’s flair ups but infectious disease Docs felt it allowed the fungus to roost in her body. The fungus was first spotted in one of Gloria’s lungs in 2022, Dyflucam took care of it but was not effective when it returned in 2023/24.

What really surprised me was the lack of knowledge concerning ostomies by nurses and aides. I would often return to the hospital and rehab center at all hours to help her change, to empty her pouch etc. I considered it an honor to be able to help her. Not everyone was like that. Nurses told me there is not much time spent in Nursing Schools regarding ostomies and their care.

I joined a private Ostomy Facebook group and it deeply saddens me that folks have such a negative attitude there toward life with an ostomy. Our life together was awesome, and she was an amazing wife, and I think people should know their lives are not over.

A Phoenix

Gloria was a huge Harry Potter fan and she loved “The Order of the Phoenix” a secret organization that fights evil. I ordered a shirt with their crest and asked them to change the date from 1971 to 1967, the year Gloria had her surgery she always said it saved her life. She considered “67” to be her lucky number.

It’s great to be able to recognize Gloria in UOAA’s Phoenix Society  and with a donation in her honor, advance a mission of ostomy education, support and advocacy.

We also LOVED the Phoenix magazine and will miss it, but think she would be pleased that this article could be something positive for other ostomates to enjoy.

May wife had many medical issues during her life but she faced each challenge with a smile, joking and always positive.

She was always there for me and loved by many. There were over 200 people at her funeral. We’re Catholic and I consider Gloria my greatest blessing in life by far.

I loved and was blessed with a wonderful women– who just happened to have a stoma.

Finding Community, Purpose, and Voice After Colorectal Cancer and Permanent Colostomy

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By: Sandra James, ACSW

Instagram.com/@colostomyforever

www.youtube.com/@SandraJames-LivingIt

When I was diagnosed, the first emotions that hit me were disappointment, confusion, and shame. I had spent months believing hemorrhoids were the only source of my problem. There were no other symptoms at first that would alert me outside of hemorrhoids, and when I saw the blood, I attributed it to hemorrhoids and something common and manageable. Cancer never crossed my mind. I never imagined that something as serious as colorectal cancer was there quietly invading my body without my knowing. When the diagnosis came, it felt disorienting. I kept replaying the past in my head, wondering how I missed it, how something so big could have been there while I carried on with my life.

When people asked what kind of cancer I had, I struggled to say the words out loud. Saying it was in my rectum felt heavy, embarrassing, and deeply shameful. I found myself wanting to deflect, minimize, or avoid the conversation altogether. That shame added another layer to the confusion and disappointment I was already carrying—an emotional weight I never expected to come with a diagnosis.

I had no one I could sit across from, look in the eyes, and say, “Do you understand this?”

After my diagnosis, my medical team gave me pamphlets and printed materials explaining my condition and treatment such as colostomy surgery. The information was thorough and medically sound, but it wasn’t what I needed at that moment. I wasn’t looking for a curriculum or clinical language—I needed to understand what was happening to me right then, in real life. What helped me most was hearing from real people.

Sandra at UOAA’s 2025 National Conference in Orlando.

I spent long stretches of time watching videos on YouTube where people openly shared their cancer journeys, their fears, their side effects, their recoveries, and their lives beyond diagnosis. Some had their own YouTube channels. Others were featured on platforms like The Patient Story. Watching them helped me process what I was facing in a way pamphlets couldn’t.

While YouTube helped me feel less alone in the early days of my diagnosis and treatment, it didn’t fully replace the need for real, human connection. I didn’t know anyone in my immediate community who had an ostomy. I had no one I could sit across from, look in the eyes, and say, “Do you understand this?”

At some point, I came across another ostomate on social media who mentioned the United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA) National Conference. I remember feeling something shift in me when I heard about it. It felt like an invitation — not just to an event, but to belonging. I registered, booked a flight, and went — not fully knowing what to expect, but knowing I needed to be there. Those three days became one of the most meaningful experiences of my entire cancer journey. From the moment I arrived, I felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity and ease. I was surrounded by people who felt like they had known me my whole life, even though we had just met. There was no shame, no need to explain myself, no awkwardness. Just understanding. UOAA’s conference wasn’t simply educational — it was grounding. It wasn’t just supportive — it was life-sustaining. For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt whole again. Not fixed. Not “back to normal.” But grounded in who I was becoming.

From Watching to Sharing: Why I Started My Own Channel

The realization to start my own channel came while I was writing my book, My Colorectal Cancer Journey. By the time I reached chapter two, I understood that telling my story solely through a book would take time — time that many people facing a new diagnosis surgery simply don’t have. I remembered how desperately I needed immediate connection and reassurance, and I knew I wanted to offer that same immediacy to others.

Starting a YouTube channel felt less structured, more human, and more accessible. It allowed me to speak honestly, show the realities of ostomy life, and create space for conversations that often don’t happen elsewhere — conversations about fear, shame, stigma, resilience, and growth.

My channel wasn’t created to educate in the traditional sense, even though many people now describe it that way. It was created to connect. To say, “You’re not alone,” without conditions or explanations. To show what life can look like after diagnosis, after surgery, after everything changes.

The same connection I once searched for, I now try to offer — one video, one conversation, one shared moment at a time.

View a selection of Sandra’s videos at the links below and look for her unique perspective on UOAA’s YouTube Channel soon!

Caring for My Stoma: What Works for Me

My New Travel Bag: What I Take with Me

My New Reality Bag Change: Living with a Permanent Colostomy Bag

The Truth About Living with an Ostomy Bag (Myths vs. Facts)

How to Measure Your Stoma

UOAA Supports Colorectal Cancer Survivors

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By Cheryl Ory, UOAA President

While advances in cancer treatments rise the news on colorectal cancer has been alarming. Colorectal Cancer is the 2nd leading cause of cancer death in the U.S. and the number one cancer killer of people under the age of 50 according to the American Cancer Society.

The deaths this year of the beloved actors James Van Der Beek and Catherine O’Hara have brought more awareness to colorectal cancer. Hopefully the spotlight during this National Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month continues to encourage more people to be screened. UOAA stands alongside partner organizations like Fight Colorectal Cancer to push lawmakers into giving more funding and attention to what is a colorectal cancer crisis.

United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA) has been supporting cancer survivors and others living with an ostomy for over twenty years so that they can have the best quality of life possible. If your cancer requires life savings ostomy surgery, remember – you are not alone. UOAA estimates that between 725,000 to 1 million people in the U.S. of all ages and backgrounds are living with an ostomy, and over 100,000 ostomy surgeries are performed each year.

UOAA President Cheryl Ory at the Fight Colorectal Cancer United in Blue Rally in Washington, D.C. in 2024.

In 2008 I was diagnosed with Stage 3b colorectal cancer. I was told the cancer had been developing for at least 10 years or more, most likely when I was in my early 30’s. There was a polyp, if it had been removed at an earlier date the cancer would not have developed. After radiation, chemo, surgery, and more chemo I am now a colorectal cancer survivor with a permanent colostomy, an ostomy that has saved mine and others lives from not only cancer, but other debilitating diseases.

If you are a person still at risk, like those with IBD, let me urge you to get screened. Screening can result in any colorectal cancers being found earlier when they are easier to treat.

Every individual person’s disease treatment is unique but ostomy surgery for colorectal cancer may mean a temporary ostomy, ileostomy (from the small intestine) or colostomy (large intestine). This may be required to give a portion of the bowel a chance to rest and heal. When healing has occurred, the colostomy can often be reversed and normal bowel function restored.  It’s important to know that not everyone with an ostomy will be a candidate for a reversal operation. A permanent colostomy may be required when a disease affects the end part of the colon or rectum.

We have two guides written from a patient’s perspective, Living with a Colostomy and Living with an Ileostomy, to help you learn as much as possible before and after you have this life changing surgery.

It’s especially important to connect with one of hundreds of  UOAA Affiliated Ostomy Support Groups in the U.S. before, or shortly after, your surgery. Even online peer support and preparation can put you on the path to success in what may be a challenging time both emotionally and physically.  Ask if the hospital has a certified ostomy nurse and insist on having your stoma placement marked before surgery. These and other self-advocacy tools are paramount and outlined in our Ostomy Patient Bill of Rights.

You may feel too overwhelmed as you are discharged at the hospital to fully understand ostomy pouching systems and accessories and lifestyle considerations.

As you recover, if you have a descending or sigmoid colostomy you may want to ask your doctor or ostomy nurse if you are a candidate for colostomy irrigation. I utilize colostomy irrigation, which is similar to an enema, as a way to have control over my output schedule that fits my lifestyle. UOAA seeks to raise more awareness for the practice and encourages medical professionals to discuss this treatment option with patients who may benefit.

If you have a  medical question contact your doctor or ostomy nurse. If you need help finding an ostomy nurse use or our outpatient ostomy clinic finder or make plans online with a virtual ostomy clinic. If you have a quality of life question-UOAA resources here at ostomy.org and peers at UOAA Affiliated Support Groups likely have the answers.

It’s important to learn the facts about living with an ostomy. After the healing period outlined by your surgeon you can swim, bathe, be intimate, travel, and embrace a new normal life. After some trial and error, you may also eat most of the foods you have been able to eat in the past. Education is key to battling misinformation.

Unfortunately misinformation and stigmas surrounding both ostomy surgery and colorectal cancer affect the number of people getting screened or getting the medical treatment they need.  Let’s work together to educate, advocate and support survivors.

 

Cheryl Ory is a colorectal cancer survivor who received a permanent colostomy in 2008. Cheryl is a Registered Nurse who has had a passion for volunteering with the ostomy community ever since and first joined UOAA’s Board of Directors in 2015. She now holds the position of President.

 

 

 

10 Tips for Intimacy with an Ostomy

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Life with an ostomy can stir up deeply vulnerable questions: Will anyone love me like this? Does my ostomy bag make me unattractive? How can I be intimate while managing it? These anxieties often settle in the quieter corners of ostomy life, where many ostomates fear their bodies may never be chosen or desired.

Chloe Olsen has spent her whole life learning what it means to live with an ostomy. In this blog, she draws on more than 20 years of lived experience to share an honest perspective on connection, communication, and confidence. Her insights offer reassurance, perspective, and a reminder to fellow ostomates that they are worthy of love without conditions.

10 tips for intimacy with an ostomy (from a 20+ year ostomate)

Unlike most other ostomates, I never had a “before my ostomy.” I didn’t have to relearn intimacy because I’ve had an ostomy my whole life. This means I learned intimacy with an ostomy bag—first crushes, first touch, first relationships. For me, there was no “before my ostomy” to mourn—just figuring things out in real time like everyone else.

This is the only body I’ve ever been intimate in. Every version of intimacy I’ve ever known has included my ostomy bag. And that’s why I know you don’t owe anyone everything.

This topic in particular is especially important to me because I didn’t grow up seeing bodies like mine being desired or sexualized. I had no idea what intimacy would look like for me because there wasn’t anyone like me out there talking about it. After a lifetime of trial and error, of tender moments and of ones I’d rather forget, I’m sharing my tried and tested intimacy tips for any ostomate who needs straightforward honesty—not sugarcoating.

  1. You don’t owe anyone your medical history.

When meeting someone new, we can sometimes feel obligated to share our medical past. Don’t forget—you get to decide when and how much you share. There were times I would over-explain out of fear, thinking clarity would protect me. It didn’t—boundaries did.

You are not obligated to provide any details you don’t want to share, and this includes any questions you don’t feel comfortable with. A simple explanation is enough.

  1. You get to decide when to tell someone about your ostomy.

The pressure of this used to weigh on me a lot. If I didn’t tell someone soon enough, I would feel as if I were lying to them somehow, like keeping this secret from them was a form of deception. But if I told them right away, it would sometimes change their view of me—or even the way they treated me.

My advice: if you really like someone, tell them about your ostomy bag as soon as possible, as soon as you feel comfortable. Personally, I would always tell them right away, because I find it to be an excellent detector of who isn’t meant to be.

  1. Phrasing is important. Confidence is everything.

If you do decide to tell your intimate partner about your ostomy, your own attitude can make the biggest difference. If you frame it as something positive, like that it gave you your life back, they probably will too! But if you say, “Now I’m forced to live with this for the rest of my life!” it gives your ostomy a negative connotation, and they may be more likely to react negatively as well.

I know it’s easier said than done, but confidence really is everything! If you go in with no fear, as if your ostomy is no big deal, it likely won’t be a big deal to them either.

  1. If someone is uncomfortable, it’s not a reflection of your self-worth.

Not everyone handles it well, and learning not to internalize those reactions took time. But over time, you learn the difference between curiosity and discomfort—and you stop internalizing reactions that don’t belong to you.

Discomfort doesn’t mean you’re undesirable. It means they’re not equipped for your body or your honesty—and that’s not yours to fix.

  1. One-night stands are NOT off the table.

This is one of the biggest things I wish someone had told me! Having only known ostomy life, I let the stigma surrounding it convince me that one-night stands weren’t possible for me—but that’s actually the furthest thing from the truth. Hearing from my close ostomate friends a little bit older than myself, I learned that it’s actually not a big deal. Although it can be scary at first (how would this random stranger react?), one-night stands with an ostomy are not harder, just more intentional. Only share what’s necessary, and prep more so you can think less.

Most importantly, make sure you feel safe. Believe it or not, your ostomy will likely not be their primary focus—in fact, they may not even notice it at all.

  1. Communication is key.

Intimacy isn’t mind-reading, it’s communication—and that goes both ways. At first, I didn’t know how to communicate effectively during intimacy. Partners would assume they could accidentally “break” my bag or hurt me somehow. I learned to speak up for myself through trial, error, and a lot of unlearning silence. Don’t be afraid to just tell them, “I’m not fragile,” or educate them in the moment so they feel comfortable. Communication doesn’t ruin the moment—it makes it possible, and more enjoyable when they better understand your body.

And if they don’t want to take that extra moment of care, then maybe they aren’t worth your time and energy, and that’s your choice to make. Remember—you can always back out or say no.

  1. Prep is not unsexy.

Emptying your ostomy bag beforehand, wearing something that makes you feel secure, maybe even putting on a fresh bag—all these extra steps we take are just taking care of your body, an important part of intimacy. I know it can detract from the spontaneity, but take it from me, you don’t want to risk having a leak during an intimate moment—major mood killer.

Trust me, it’s worth taking the extra time—having peace of mind changes everything.

  1. The right intimacy doesn’t make you feel like your body is a problem.

I’ve felt the difference between being accommodated and being wanted. And once you feel the latter, you stop settling for the former. For too long, I stayed in unhealthy relationships because I didn’t think I deserved better. I believed I was “defective” or “damaged,” and therefore not in a position to be picky or stand up for myself. It took a while, but once I let myself believe that I was worthy to be loved the way I wanted, I never looked back.

You’re not something to tolerate, work around, or “get past.” You’re not less deserving because of your ostomy. You’re the body someone gets to be close to.

  1. Desire without shame.

I grew up feeling a lot of shame around my body, not because of my ostomy, but because of what I was taught to believe about it. In navigating intimacy, I’ve learned that it’s okay to crave it, and it’s okay to communicate your needs.

Desire doesn’t disappear because you have an ostomy or disability—it adapts, like everything else.

  1. There’s no “right” way to do this.

Reminder: You don’t owe intimacy to prove confidence, healing, or normalcy. There’s no timeline for feeling ready. Confidence with intimacy isn’t a finish line. It shifts with age, partners, energy, and life. And that’s normal—ostomy or not. It comes with time and learning to be comfortable in your own body before you can be comfortable with someone else.

If you’re just learning intimacy in your body—you’re not behind, you’re doing it.

Find more support for intimacy with an ostomy on Instagram and in Coloplast’s free e‑book, The Ostomate’s Guide to Intimacy.

Coloplast develops products and services that make life easier for people with intimate healthcare needs. Working closely with the people who use our products, we create solutions that are sensitive to their special needs. Our business includes ostomy care, continence care, advanced wound care, interventional urology, and voice & respiratory care.

Chloe is a Coloplast product user who received compensation from Coloplast to provide this information. Each person’s situation is unique, so your experience may not be the same. Talk to your healthcare professional about which product might be right for you.

Follow Coloplast on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube, or visit us online at https://www.coloplast.us/

 

Editor’s note: This blog is from a UOAA digital sponsor, Coloplast. Sponsor support along with donations from readers like you help to maintain our website and the free trusted resources of UOAA, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

Gratitude on High: An Ostomy Patient’s Journey of Faith, Community, and Black History

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By Tonya Kelly

As I drove down East Main Street in Reynoldsburg, Ohio, time stopped.

There it was my banner hanging proudly among so many incredible community members being honored for Black History Month. I pulled over, overwhelmed by emotion.

Tears flowed freely: tears of gratitude, tears of healing, tears of triumph. These last two years have been a journey I could have never imagined, and in that moment, all I could do was appreciate my new life.

To be back in my community, teaching, tutoring, doing what I love, surrounded by love, support, and blessings this moment means everything.

There were moments on this new journey, when my body felt fragile, when uncertainty felt louder than hope. But my faith carried me. Living life as an ostomy(ileostomy) patient has reshaped my understanding of strength, resilience, and purpose. My ostomy literally saved my life, but it also gave me a deeper calling: to live boldly, to serve openly, and to remind others that life after ostomy surgery is not only possible it can be powerful, joyful, and fulfilling.

My community carried me. Organizations like UOAA and Color of Gastrointestinal Illnesses (COGI) reminded me that I was never alone. Through education, shared experiences, and unwavering support, I found strength in knowing that ostomy (ileostomy) patients are not defined by what we’ve lost but by how boldly we live afterward.

Seeing my banner represented on East Main Street alongside other nominated Reynoldsburg residents was deeply humbling. Black History Month is about honoring the past, but it is also about celebrating the living, breathing history we create every day through service, advocacy, and community.

 

My daddy would be so proud.

I do this for him.
I do this for my family.
I do this for my community.
I do this for every ostomy patient who needs to see someone living fully, loving deeply, and standing tall visible and unashamed.
I am Black history.
I am an ostomy patient.
I am grateful.

 

 

 

 

Thanks to Tonya for her leadership and passion for the ostomy community. Seeing the need for ostomy support and supplies in her community she founded Ostomy Warriors a Columbus, OH-based local support and free donation hub dedicated to bringing awareness, dignity, and practical help to ostomy patients and their families. For World Ostomy Day 2025 she organized an Ostomy Awareness recognition at the Ohio State House where she received an official proclamation.

Ostomy Warriors provide access to donated ostomy supplies for individuals experiencing financial hardship, insurance gaps, or unexpected medical transitions. Beyond supplies, the Ostomy Board offers education, peer support, and encouragement for those learning to navigate life as a new ostomy patient. Our mission is rooted in community care meeting people where they are, reducing stigma, and ensuring no one feels alone on their ostomy journey.

Contact:  www.facebook.com/ostomywarriors
614-512-6511,  Ostomywarriors25@gmail.com

Seeking an Extraordinary Life with an Ostomy

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This ‘Walking Miracle’ has a lot more life to live

By Lisa Bowie

I am 65 years old and have lived with an ileostomy for almost 14 years. I share my story in the hope that I may inspire others.

I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in my late 30s. Under the care of a physician, I managed it as best I could, but it would still periodically come out of remission. In 2012, at the age of 52, a flare-up caused my large intestine to rupture. I developed toxic megacolon, and my major organs began shutting down. Unbeknownst to me at that moment, I was within hours of death. A general surgeon performed emergency surgery to remove my entire large intestine in an attempt to save my life.

I woke up after three days in the ICU to find I had an ileostomy. I thought I was out of the woods, but I spent the next four years being hospitalized nine times in three different hospitals across two states, undergoing five major surgeries by four different surgeons. For those four years, it felt like life was passing me by, but I refused to give up. At times, I had to say everything I was thankful for and dreamed of out loud just to get through the day—sometimes even just to get through the next second. My faith in God enabled me to hold on to the belief that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and that I could one day be healed. After my last surgery in 2016, I was finally fully healed. I have been living a full life, albeit with a permanent ileostomy, ever since.

I not only love life, I seize it and savor it.

It was an extremely difficult, at times utterly excruciating, four years. Words fail to describe the full depth and breadth of what I endured. I did not choose this situation, and truthfully, I don’t like it; however, I was determined to survive, and I am determined never to let it define me. Resiliency, perseverance, a “never-ever-give-up” attitude, and an incessant desire to inspire others have helped me through this journey and continue to carry me forward.

I know I’m a walking miracle. My emergency surgeon in 2012 did not expect me to survive the operation. He said I was in the worst condition of any patient he’d ever seen and was ecstatic that I made it. Other surgeons since have shared the sentiment that it is a miracle I’m alive. I am grateful beyond measure for this gift, and I will not waste it. I not only love life, I seize it and savor it. If sharing my story helps just one person, then my journey was worth it.

I can testify that it is possible to thrive with an ileostomy. I’m a single mother, and soon-to-be first time grandmother. I have a BS in Physics, an MS in Nuclear Systems Engineering, and I work full time as a nuclear engineer. Since 2012, I have accomplished so many things and continue to pursue new adventures. Here are a few things I’ve done with my ileostomy:

  • Racing and Driving: I raced my personal cars for several years in Autocross. In 2017, I won the Autocross Season Championship (Ladies Class) in the East Tennessee Region of the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA). On three occasions, I’ve driven track laps at the Bristol Motor Speedway in my Miata and Camaro.

  • Dance: Since 2022, I have competed in couple country dancing in sanctioned United Country & Western Dance Council events. In 2024, I won the title of World Champion in my division after competing both nationally and internationally.

  • Paragliding: In June 2025, I did a tandem paraglide from the 6200-foot Babadag Mountain in Oludeniz, Turkey—one of the highest peaks for commercial paragliding in the world.

  • Travel: I have traveled extensively, including trips to Alaska, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, and Turkey.

  • Pageants: In April 2026, I will compete in the Ms. Tennessee Senior America Pageant. If by chance I win, I will move on to the national pageant in October 2026.

  • Community: I volunteer and dance with the “TN Jewels,” a group of women aged 60 and older who perform at nursing homes and assisted living facilities.

  • Active Lifestyle/water sports: I frequently go swimming, boating, kayaking, hiking, sailing, and snorkeling.

  • Writing: I am currently writing my first book—a biography about a young single mother from South Sudan living in Tennessee. She suffered incomprehensible atrocities, and I hope her story will eventually become a movie.

  • Ministry: I aspire to start a ministry to help women dealing with adversity by sharing my story of survival.

I’ve learned that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. I choose daily never to let my ileostomy define or limit me. I do not want to live an ordinary life; I want to live an extraordinary one. I am only limited if I limit myself.

I hope that by sharing my story, I inspire others to believe they can achieve any dream their heart desires, even in the midst of adversity. Life is beautiful. Find what makes you smile and go seize it! This is your life—you, too, can make it what you dream it to be.

RETA’S HOLIDAY REFLECTIONS ON LIVING WITH SHORT BOWEL SYNDROME

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For me, the holiday season is an annual reminder of how far I’ve come in my short bowel syndrome (SBS) journey. In my experience, life with SBS has been challenging, but I’ve found that it can be workable. That’s not to say it’s easy; it’s never easy. There are many days when I spend more time in the bathroom than out, but my goal is to have more good days than bad. Through it all, I have worked hard to keep my life as “normal” as possible. I’m fortunate to have a husband who has fully supported me through this journey and has been a source of strength for me. Together, we refuse to let SBS be the dominating factor in our life. My name is Reta and this is my story.

If you are living with Short Bowel Syndrome and rely on parenteral support, there’s an SBS Mentor available to connect with you. Click here to learn more.

A Holiday Health Crisis

On Christmas Day 2012, I was given 10 hours to live. What started as a bad case of diarrhea around Thanksgiving had progressed over the next month to severe diarrhea with vomiting. I was in and out of the hospital while doctors ran tests and tried to manage my symptoms, but my condition quickly deteriorated until I’d gone into renal failure, septic shock, and respiratory failure. My bowels were dead and poisoning my body; doctors weren’t sure they could save any of my bowels, let alone my life.

Doctors gave me a five percent chance of survival with surgery, and no chance without. With those odds laid out before him, my husband said a prayer and told the doctors to go ahead and do the surgery. Thankfully, I do not remember any of this. December 22, 2012 was the last day I really remember before waking up several days later—after the surgery.

A New Reality: Navigating Life After My SBS Diagnosis

Surgery went much better than anyone expected, but when I finally woke up, I learned that my life had changed. I was diagnosed with short bowel syndrome (SBS), a rare, serious and chronic malabsorption disorder that occurs when parts of the intestine are removed, and the remaining intestine may not be able to absorb enough nutrients from food and drink. I had a high output jejunostomy and was put on parenteral support (PS), also referred to as parenteral nutrition, because my body couldn’t absorb nutrients on its own anymore. At that time, I was told I’d probably be on PS for the rest of my life.

The doctors talked about how good my stoma looked and how they were going to try to get my PS down to 15 hours a day. But they wouldn’t even talk about when I could go home. Days dragged into weeks and weeks into a month, and then two months.

Finally, I was allowed to go home—and that’s when reality hit me hard. The day I was supposed to go home, we had major logistics to figure out: Who was going to teach me how to infuse PS? Who was going to supply it? Where was I going to get ostomy supplies? Did I need home health? Who was going to provide that? We were fortunate that the team at the hospital helped my husband and me to figure out these details, and I was finally able to go home.

At 10pm that night, back at home, my infusion nurse was showing us how to hook up my PS. Twelve hours every night. At the time, I was told that there wasn’t any hope of me ever getting off of it. Even bedtime proved to be a challenge. For years, my husband had slept on the left side of the bed; but as I looked at our bed that first night at home, I realized the bathroom was on the left side. So, we held the great bedroom debate and finally decided to switch sides, to allow me to be closer to the bathroom. Something as simple as that made me realize how much SBS would impact almost everything I do.

But life went on. My doctors worked hard to get me down to a more manageable PS level. It was still very restrictive, but I promised myself that I wasn’t going to let the ostomy and PS rule our lives. I went back to work, even though no one thought I would. I carried all my supplies through airports and I can’t tell you how many airplanes. I was trying to live as normal a life as I possibly could—even when my next SBS challenge came.

I remember one time when my pump malfunctioned. I woke up on Sunday morning, and my PS bag was still full; it was supposed to be empty. My pump had probably stopped working right after I went to bed, and I didn’t get any nutrition that entire night. When I went to unhook the bag and saw that it was still full, I had a major temper tantrum: My first official meltdown since my SBS diagnosis. I stomped my feet; I cried; I screamed; I threw things. It wasn’t fair that I had to carry that bag all day and all night. My husband recognized this for what it was—another reality check. He held me and told me it was going to be alright until I stopped kicking and screaming. Meltdown #1 averted.

Learning About An SBS Treatment

Then one day at an appointment, my gastroenterologist handed me a sticky note. The note had GATTEX® (teduglutide) for subcutaneous injection written on it. He said it was a prescription medicine used in adults with short bowel syndrome who need additional nutrition or fluids from intravenous (IV) feeding (parenteral support). After discussing the treatment option with me, we felt I fit the criteria. GATTEX is also approved for children 1 year of age and older. It is not known if GATTEX is safe and effective in children under 1 year of age.

He told me GATTEX may cause serious side effects including making abnormal cells grow faster, polyps in the intestines, blockage of the bowel (intestines), swelling (inflammation) or blockage of the gallbladder or pancreas, and fluid overload. He told me these are not all the possible side effects of GATTEX. I remember my doctor asking me a very important question: “Wouldn’t it be great if over time we could reduce the amount of volume and number of days you’re on PS? I think this drug might help us do that.”

Please continue reading for additional Important Safety Information.

Wow! Finally, a sliver of hope. I weighed the risks and benefits, and together my doctor and I decided that I should start GATTEX. But it proved not to be an easy journey. Many obstacles were thrown in our path. It took six months, letters to insurance companies, and an appeal process to make it happen. In fact, my efforts motivated the insurance company to write a policy that they previously did not have, and establish a timeframe to be eligible for GATTEX.

I remember the first day the GATTEX box arrived at my house, not too long after the new year. My PS-infusion nurse talked me through the process of how to prepare and measure my dose and give myself the subcutaneous injection the right way. I told her I could do it; and I could—until I sat down in my kitchen with the needle and realized what a huge commitment it was. I thought about this and everything I had already been through for a few minutes and decided to take my first step on this new journey.

My doctors and I were happy with the results we saw, and over time my healthcare team began slowly lowering my PS volume. This was just my experience though, and others may have a different experience. My doctor continued to monitor me for any side effects, like injection site reactions. Adults starting GATTEX should have their colon and upper intestines monitored for new polyps at the end of the first year on GATTEX and then as needed and at least every 5 years. I still had a long road ahead of me, and my doctors were still looking at other treatment options. Eventually, one of the options they offered was reconnecting my colon. I weighed that option and decided to proceed.

Another Decision: Weaning Off Parenteral Support Under Medical Supervision

After I’d recovered from surgery to reconnect my colon, we started discussing weaning me off the PS. I’ll admit I was scared. It had been keeping me alive for two years. The thought of not having that “nutrition lifeline” scared me a great deal. I started asking myself questions: What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose too much weight? What if, what if?

With the encouragement and supervision of my team of doctors, over time we started slowly reducing the amount of PS volume and cutting my days on PS until I didn’t need it anymore. I honestly didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t hook up to a bag of nutrition every night. Today I am still off PS, and I still take GATTEX as directed by my doctor. My doctor also continues to monitor me for side effects like stomach-area pain or swelling and injection site reactions. And keep in mind, not all patients who take GATTEX will wean off their PS. These have been my results, but everyone responds to treatment differently.

Even though I still have SBS and bathroom challenges every day, freedom from PS has been liberating. I can go out to dinner or a concert at night without having to plan my schedule around hooking up to PS. It feels great not to be tied to that schedule anymore.

I choose to focus on the good in my life and not let SBS drag me down. Some days are harder than others, but I live for those good days. My husband and I have pledged to make the most of every day. I retired from my job, and we have embarked on the next phase of our lives, checking off items on our bucket list. And, for me, not being on PS makes it a little easier to check off those bucket list items. I am a very fortunate woman. I have a husband who has supported me from the moment this SBS journey began. He has made it infinitely more manageable.

If you’re just starting down this road, you may think your best days are behind you. In my experience, that’s not always the case. SBS is a very challenging condition. If you are living with it, I would encourage you not to give up. Read everything you can about SBS. Ask questions and then insist on answers. Work with your healthcare team to figure out what makes your symptoms worse. Learn as much as you can to take control of your “new normal.”

IMPORTANT SAFETY INFORMATION

What is the most important information I should know about GATTEX? GATTEX may cause serious side effects, including:

Making abnormal cells grow faster

GATTEX can make abnormal cells that are already in your body grow faster. There is an increased risk that abnormal cells could become cancer. If you get cancer of the bowel (intestines), liver, gallbladder or pancreas while using GATTEX, your healthcare provider should stop GATTEX. If you get other types of cancers, you and your healthcare provider should discuss the risks and benefits of using GATTEX.

Polyps in the intestines

Polyps are growths on the inside of the intestines. For adult patients, your healthcare provider will have your colon and upper intestines checked for polyps within 6 months before starting GATTEX, and have any polyps removed. To keep using GATTEX, your healthcare provider should have your colon and upper intestines checked for polyps at the end of 1 year of using GATTEX.

For pediatric patients, your healthcare provider will check for blood in the stool within 6 months before starting GATTEX. If there is blood in the stool, your healthcare provider will check your colon and upper intestines for polyps, and have any polyps removed. To keep using GATTEX, your healthcare provider will check for blood in the stool every year during treatment of GATTEX. If there is blood in the stool, your healthcare provider will check your colon and upper intestines for polyps. The colon will be checked for polyps at the end of 1 year of using GATTEX.

For adult and pediatric patients, if no polyp is found at the end of 1 year, your healthcare provider should check you for polyps as needed and at least every 5 years. If any new polyps are found, your healthcare provider will have them removed and may recommend additional monitoring. If cancer is found in a polyp, your healthcare provider should stop GATTEX.

Blockage of the bowel (intestines)

A bowel blockage keeps food, fluids, and gas from moving through the bowels in the normal way. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you have any of these symptoms of a bowel or stomal blockage:

  • trouble having a bowel movement or passing gas
  • stomach area (abdomen) pain or swelling
  • nausea
  • vomiting
  • swelling and blockage of your stoma opening, if you have a stoma

If a blockage is found, your healthcare provider may temporarily stop GATTEX.

Swelling (inflammation) or blockage of your gallbladder or pancreas

Your healthcare provider will do tests to check your gallbladder and pancreas within 6 months before starting GATTEX and at least every 6 months while you are using GATTEX. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you get:

  • stomach area (abdomen) pain and tenderness
  • chills
  • fever
  • a change in your stools
  • nausea
  • vomiting
  • dark urine
  • yellowing of your skin or the whites of your eyes

Fluid overload

Your healthcare provider will check you for too much fluid in your body. Too much fluid in your body may lead to heart failure, especially if you have heart problems. Tell your healthcare provider if you get swelling in your feet and ankles, you gain weight very quickly (water weight), or you have trouble breathing.

The most common side effects of GATTEX include:

  • stomach area (abdomen) pain or swelling
  • nausea
  • cold or flu symptoms
  • skin reaction where the injection was given
  • vomiting
  • swelling of the hands or feet
  • allergic reactions

The side effects of GATTEX in children and adolescents are similar to those seen in adults. Tell your healthcare provider if you have any side effect that bothers you or that does not go away.

What should I tell my healthcare provider before using GATTEX?

Tell your healthcare provider about all your medical conditions, including if you or your child:

  • have cancer or a history of cancer
  • have or had polyps anywhere in your bowel (intestines) or rectum
  • have heart problems
  • have high blood pressure
  • have problems with your gallbladder, pancreas, kidneys
  • are pregnant or planning to become It is not known if GATTEX will harm your unborn baby. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you become pregnant while using GATTEX.
  • are breastfeeding or plan to It is not known if GATTEX passes into your breast milk. You should not breastfeed during treatment with GATTEX. Talk to your healthcare provider about the best way to feed your baby while using GATTEX.

Tell your healthcare providers about all the medicines you take, including prescription or over-the counter medicines, vitamins, and herbal supplements. Using GATTEX with certain other medicines may affect each other causing side effects. Your other healthcare providers may need to change the dose of any oral medicines (medicines taken by mouth) you take while using GATTEX. Tell the healthcare provider who gives you GATTEX if you will be taking a new oral medicine.

all your doctor for medical advice about side effects. You are encouraged to report negative side effects of prescription drugs to the FDA. Visit www.fda.gov/medwatch or call 1-800-FDA-1088.

What is GATTEX?

GATTEX® (teduglutide) for subcutaneous injection is a prescription medicine used in adults and children 1 year of age and older with Short Bowel Syndrome (SBS) who need additional nutrition or fluids from intravenous (IV) feeding (parenteral support). It is not known if GATTEX is safe and effective in children under 1 year of age.

For additional safety information, click here for full Prescribing Information and Medication Guide, and discuss any questions with your doctor.

To learn more about Short Bowel Syndrome and a prescription treatment visit https://www.gattex.com/short-bowel-syndrome/

Editor’s Note: This educational article is from one of our digital sponsors, Takeda. Sponsor support along with donations from our readers like you help to maintain our website and the free trusted resources of UOAA, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

©2025 Takeda Pharmaceuticals U.S.A., Inc. 1-877-TAKEDA-7 (1-877-825-3327). All rights reserved. Takeda and the Takeda logo are trademarks or registered trademarks of Takeda Pharmaceutical Company Limited. GATTEX and the GATTEX logo are registered trademarks of Takeda Pharmaceuticals U.S.A., Inc. US-TED-1649v1.0 11/25