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

 

Squid Game: The Challenge Contestant Embraces Life with an Ostomy

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My ileostomy and how it gave me the confidence to participate in such a wild adventure!

By Kathy Kelly #258

Squid Game: The Challenge Season 2 streams on Netflix starting November 4

At age 35, while pregnant with my 4th child, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. The symptoms appeared out of nowhere during my pregnancy and unfortunately, because I was pregnant, there was very little that could be done to manage my disease.  After giving birth to my daughter, I immediately sought medical intervention to address my UC symptoms, but relief was terribly elusive.  I went from being an active, social, and extroverted person to not wanting to leave my house.  Not only did I have little to no control or predictability of my colon, but I also struggled with intense cramping, mouth sores, and copious blood loss.

Kathy Kelly is featured on the poster of Season 2 of Squid Game: The Challenge on Netflix.

Over the next 18 months, I tried several different “Biologics” and endured multiple rounds of steroids.  Each new medicine brought with it the hope of relief, but that hope was never realized as I never experienced meaningful healing.  I spiraled into thinking and feeling like I would never be healthy again – UC was now dictating the terms of my quality of life.

After nearly 20 months of a losing battle with UC, my doctor made me aware of the “nuclear” option – I could have my colon removed and be fully healed of UC.  In hindsight, it seems so obvious, but at the time, I remember shuddering at the thought.  Yes, my UC was awful and yes, I was spending all of my waking hours desperately trying to manage my symptoms.  But having “a bag” felt like it was way too extreme.  My husband and I discussed it and I met with other GI docs to discuss the process and the more I learned about it, the more the lifestyle was normalized for me.  I found people online that shared their experiences and one thing stuck out to me – they had control.  For nearly two years at this point, I had completely lacked control.

So, in May 2021, after 22 months of suffering in relative silence with UC and with the support of my medical team, I had my colon removed and was given an ileostomy.  While there was certainly an adjustment period – learning how to change my bag and care for my stoma – the immediate relief was shocking.  However, it wasn’t all positive.  Even some of my well-intentioned nurses would say things like “hopefully, this is just temporary and you’ll be back to normal soon”, and I remember feeling like neither my UC nor my new reality with an ileostomy was normal.  I quickly overcame that because of the obvious improvements to my health and quality of life. I made the decision just 4 months later to make my ileostomy permanent by having my rectum removed.

Having a permanent ileostomy has certainly been a journey – I had a peristomal hernia that required an additional surgery and I’ve experienced all of the typical “first timer” experiences – catastrophic leakages while on a date or at a friend’s house.  But, I can stay with completely certainty that my ileostomy has given me my life back.  I’m as active as ever.

I’m engaged in relationships with my husband, children, family, and friends.  I’m excited to be pushed out of comfort zone again – and to that end, I recently participated in Season 2 of Squid Game: The Challenge on Netflix!

We watched the first season of Squidgame Game: The Challenge as a family and we loved it! My husband made a silly comment to the kids saying “your mom would be able to kill all of those players” and when the kids saw that they were casting season 2, they begged me to apply. I just assumed my application would be lost in the thousands of emails, but fortunately something caught their attention!

It was an incredible experience that involved international travel, intense competition, and long hours of uninterrupted filming. My doctor even said limited bathroom breaks would probably be easier for me than most!

If I was still dealing with UC, I would’ve never trusted my body to take on something this challenging and stressful!  My ileostomy has restored my health, my energy, and my control and I’m incredibly grateful for it!

I think most of the friends I made while filming would be SHOCKED to learn I have no colon-which I love! My bag saved my life, and it’s something I’m really thankful for.

My husband was my biggest supporter. His encouragement allowed me to engage and play without any of the self-imposed pressure that had been building for months with this big secret! Now that the show is airing it is no surprise to friends that I would do something like this because I am so competitive and love engaging with people!

 

Editor’s note: You can now cheer on Kathy Kelly on Squid Game: The Challenge Season 2 on Netflix. Win or lose, we know the resilience of an ostomate is not a force to reckoned with! United Ostomy Associations of America, Inc. (UOAA) is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization that supports, empowers, and advocates for people who have had or who will have ostomy or continent diversion surgery.

Catherine’s Story

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A long journey to an ostomy leads to a supportive community

I have suffered with digestive issues since I was a teen and the first symptoms I remember were back in high school.

I was a very shy, insecure young lady throughout high school and finding myself starting college, with growing concerns about my stomach, was very difficult for me. I started noticing urgency and stomach pains and when I moved into the dorms my symptoms got worse. Not only the stress of trying to fit in with so many new people, but for any of you that have eaten dorm food I’m sure you can understand why I struggled.

Fast forward four years, and I was getting married to the love of my life. He had just accepted that anywhere we went the first thing on the agenda was locating the bathrooms. After college we moved to a small town where I did not know anyone, I was a long distance away from my family for the first time and had a difficult time finding work. This is when I started to realize how much stress was impacting my abdominal pain. I began to blame the stomach pain on my anxiety and just accepted it as normal.

After we were married, we began to think about a family. More than anything I have always dreamed of being a mom. We tried for four years to get pregnant and the stress of constantly getting negative pregnancy tests really wore on me. We decided after many rounds of tests and exploratory surgery that we would try IVF. After a long process and the intense stress put on my body to prepare, IVF worked, and we were blessed with twins.

Unfortunately, this was the beginning of a new long and difficult road. I was considered a high-risk pregnancy from the start, and after all we had been through I felt like I was walking on eggshells through the pregnancy always afraid I was going to do something wrong.

I ended up being hospitalized at 20 weeks as my daughter’s sack was in the vaginal canal. I had a four week stay in the hospital where I was sewn shut and tilted onto my head to keep the babies in as long as possible. It was August and they weren’t due until January. The stress and fear for my children was overpowering.

Unfortunately, at 24 weeks my daughter decided she had waited long enough and pushed right through the stitches. They were born at 1lb 8 oz and 1lb 11oz. and the moment they were born they took them away into a special room because they were not breathing. When they moved us to the recovery room, we were told not to get our hopes up.

Two days after they were born, Megan had to be rushed to a new hospital because her lungs weren’t developed enough, and at 9 days old my son started spitting up green, they were only fed through a feeding tube at this point. I was terrified and did not know how they would do surgery on such a tiny baby.  I didn’t want to loose my little boy!

They went into surgery, and he came out with only 20% of his small intestine and an ileostomy. 80% of his small intestine did not form completely and was dead. This was our first experience with an ostomy, and it tore me apart knowing my baby needed this. Unfortunately, he continued to get weaker, and they had no choice but to reconnect him at 3 months as a last resort to save him. His sister had been sent home a couple weeks earlier and had been sharing a crib with her. He was sent home with a small chance of survival, but once he was reunited with his sister he began to thrive. He is now 26 and doing amazing!

When the twins were two years old my life was very stressful. I lost my dad to cancer and had a miscarriage in the same 24 hours. I was a daddy’s girl. He was there when I came into this world, and I was at his side when he left it. I miss him terribly to this day.

We were told there would be delays in their growth of our children for the first few years, but at the two year mark things seemed to suddenly slow down and after running further tests my babies were diagnosed with autism.

The loss of my father, a child, and the autism diagnosis seemed to push my stress levels even further and I started having horrible pains to the point where I couldn’t even stand up. Then the bleeding started.

I would have that urgency and when I reached the bathroom all I could get out was blood and it was horribly painful. I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out, and I could only sit and rock back and forth. It took everything I Had just to care for the twins and somehow fight through growing pain and bleeding.

I felt like “This is it, all the pain will be over soon”. At that point my husband and my best friend both begged me to get the surgery

I was finally diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. When my daughter was old enough to play with her dollhouse the mommy doll was always on the toilet. That made me so sad that she noticed my illness at such a young age even if she didn’t truly understand.

Throughout the years it would bounce between Crohn’s and Colitis. At one point they called it ulcerative Crohn’s. I was 29 when I was diagnosed, and at 41 years old I had my first hospitalization. Looking back, I should have been in the hospital a few times, but that would be accepting how serious things had become.

They mentioned removing my colon, but I am ashamed to admit I said I’d rather die. Somehow, I recovered enough to go home after a week despite still being weak and struggling.

After years of caring for my children I needed to work and was able to start a new job. This is where I was first exposed to a nutrition practitioner who helped me realize I had food sensitivities and supported me with good nutrition and whole food supplementation. I was beginning to flare and worried I would lose my job having to run to the bathroom so frequently at work, but they reassured me they were dedicated to helping me get my life back. It was overwhelming at first, but after 6 months I finally felt like I could live again.

I had many good years after that but still struggled with small bouts now and then. I had multiple back surgeries that seemed to cause flare ups, but I was able to recover each time. After 2020 I started having a horrible flare every year around the same time. At one point, trying to drive my son to work, I had to park and had diarrhea in the garbage in the back seat of the car. I couldn’t even get into the building.

At this point I was terrified to even leave the house and if I did, I became exhausted so quickly I could barely get anything done. I was afraid to eat so I was losing weight and becoming weaker by the day.

At 52 I was hospitalized with severe pain and bleeding again.  I felt as though I was being torn in half and this time it felt worse than usual.  I was in the hospital for the best part of two months. They would send me home and I would have to go back one to two days later in severe pain after my husband would push me to go. Deep inside I knew what they were going to tell me, and I fought to stay home trying to convince myself I could get over it on my own.

I walked into a room of smiling people there to support each other and they were very welcoming to newcomers.

On one of my final returns to the hospital they said I was unresponsive to the steroid infusions. By the time the surgeon talked to me I was under 90 pounds, but I still told him I did not want ostomy surgery. He was completely honest with me and said I either have surgery and because I was so weak already, I might not make it through. Without surgery I would not survive.

I cried so hard. I did not want this for my life.

The last time I was sent home before surgery I could not eat. I would try but the food would make me so sick I couldn’t bear putting anything in my mouth. It got so bad I couldn’t even get water down. I remember sitting on the toilet in pain and, all of a sudden, I just felt this feeling of peace and that everything was going to be ok.

I was going home.

I felt like “This is it, all the pain will be over soon”. At that point my husband and my best friend both begged me to get the surgery. It dawned on me that my poor husband had been trying to take care of me with a TBI and my twins had autism. My family still needed me.

I went back into the hospital and was so weak they had to give me TPN for a week in the hope they could get me strong enough for surgery. I am blessed that I had a wonderful surgeon, and everything went as well as it could. Many people said when they woke from this kind of surgery, they immediately noticed the pain was gone. I had hoped I would wake up have that feeling, but I was still in so much pain. I felt so emotionally broken I couldn’t bring myself to look at my stoma for days after the surgery.

My husband, bless his heart, was right there from the moment I came out of surgery watching the nurses empty so he could learn how to help me. I cried through my first handful of bag changes. My bag was covering two open wounds, and it hurt so badly when they had to remove the adhesive barrier. I couldn’t stand it whenever they came in to change my pouch and remembered thinking there was no way I could live like this. I went home a week later and had home health care along with TPN IVs and steroids. I was hooked up to a large bag of fluid each night to try to get nutrients back into my body since eating was still a challenge.

I had to learn how to properly walk and move again from my muscles wasting away but slowly I became stronger over the next few months. After about a month of care I decided I didn’t want to be miserable, and I would embrace this. It was a mental turning point for me, and I started wanting to do all my bag changes myself and worked hard to recuperate.

At about 6 months I started to slowly exercise again and was looking for a support group. My experiences with online support groups at this point were frustrating. It seemed like a lot of negativity and not much support. I was doing research online to find support and information to life as positively as I could and I found UOAA’s website and a local support group.

Walking into this support group meeting, I was nervous that it would just be a bunch of people complaining but it was just the opposite.

I walked into a room of smiling people there to support each other and they were very welcoming to newcomers. After a few visits to this UOAA Affiliated Support Group, one member even volunteered to help with my workouts since there were risks to strengthening your core after surgery.

I was finally starting to feel confident in my new life, but once again, there was an unexpected turn in my recovery. 10 Months in, out of nowhere, I started feeling severe pain in my abdomen that I could not control. It came on suddenly, and when I started vomiting, I called my surgeon. He was concerned since I wasn’t that far out of my surgery and shouldn’t be having these issues, so he sent me to the ER.

I learned it is ok to have bad days as long as I don’t dwell in them and firmly embrace my good days.

After being admitted to the hospital for a blockage I was not responding to treatment the way I should have so I was scheduled for immediate surgery. My surgeon went in and found my small intestine had twisted and was turning purple. I am so blessed that he found it in time and was able to save what was left.

Unfortunately, I developed a reaction to the dissolvable stitches and had open wounds for over 3 months. These open wounds created challenges that kept my bag from adhering to my skin. Honestly this surgery affected me mentally more than my ostomy surgery. The scars and puckering from infection still mess with my head but I am learning to love my new body.

I recently attended the UOAA National Conference in Orlando and this was the best thing I could have done. My husband made a comment that that was the most confident he had seen me in a long time. I felt so much love and support there. I also met some amazing people who reinforced my mental and emotional recovery.

I learned it is ok to have bad days as long as I don’t dwell in them and firmly embrace my good days. I have been feeling a push to share my story to hopefully help and support others in the way I have through my journey. I look forward to finding ways to inspire others and make a difference in our community.

I have to say my quality of life has drastically improved. Don’t get me wrong, there are hard days and challenges, but I can face them without the pain and exhaustion that held me back for so many years.

I am still here for my family and can continue to help people with my career in Nutrition Response Testing. I can say I am truly grateful and blessed to have this ostomy and hope I can inspire others and help them along in their journey!

MY JOURNEY TO BECOMING A CERTIFIED OSTOMY NURSE

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UOAA is excited to announce that the 2025 recipient of the Educational Award for Ostomy Nurse Certification is Erin Young from California!

Below Erin shares a little bit about herself and her motivation to become a certified ostomy nurse.

I am incredibly grateful to have been awarded a scholarship to support my ostomy certification education. This generous gift eases the financial aspect of continuing my education, but more importantly, it serves as a reminder of the encouragement and belief others have in my journey. Having this investment enables me to give back in meaningful ways to the ostomate community and inspires me to keep moving forward with purpose.

I have wanted to be a nurse for as long as I can remember. My dream began in kindergarten and has guided me ever since. I started my healthcare journey as a Certified Nursing Assistant while attending nursing school. For the past six years, I have been fortunate to work in diverse areas like telemetry, oncology, intermediate care, and a GI clinic. Each role has helped me grow as a nurse, teaching me new skills, deepening my compassion, and showing me how healthcare can change lives.

I want to support the ostomate community not just with clinical expertise, but also with empathy rooted in shared experience.

Becoming a certified ostomy nurse is more than just a career goal for me, but is something that feels deeply personal. Seven years ago, I received a life-changing medical diagnosis that sent me down an unexpected road. I underwent a total colectomy and ultimately chose to have a j-pouch. Several years later, I became a member of the ostomate community when I had surgery for an ileostomy. This profound experience has been transformative in ways I never could have imagined. Surgery restored my health, but it also introduced me to the physical and emotional challenges that come with adjusting to living with an ostomy. I’ve learned firsthand what it feels like to navigate those vulnerable, overwhelming moments, and I know how meaningful it is to connect with someone who truly understands.

Pursuing certification as an ostomy nurse feels like a calling. I want to support the ostomate community not just with clinical expertise, but also with empathy rooted in shared experience. Saying “I’ve been there too” builds trust and comfort that textbooks can’t teach. Every day, I bring that understanding to the bedside. My goal is to give back to the community that supported me and to be the nurse I leaned on after surgery. I want my patients to feel seen, heard, and never alone. Every patient deserves this.

Becoming a certified ostomy nurse is not just a career move, it’s a calling that is the culmination of my lived experience and the start of a purposeful contribution to a field that changed my life. I see it as a way to advance my career and make a meaningful difference for patients facing an isolating experience. I’m ready to give back, to lead with compassion, and to help others not just survive, but thrive with an ostomy. This journey honors my past, embraces my present, and dedicates my future to caring for others living with ostomies.

Congratulations, Erin!

The next scholarship application will open, pending funding availability, in January 2026 and closes on June 30, 2026. 

 

Find an Ostomy Nurse

World Ostomy Day Champion Keely Cat-Wells is a Leader in Breaking Down Barriers

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Keely Cat-Wells is approaching the 10th anniversary of her ileostomy surgery. Before the surgery at 17, Keely endured years of misdiagnoses, experimental procedures, and was incorrectly told her pain was imagined. She was forced to leave college and put aside her dream of becoming a professional dancer. The experience left scars of trauma, but it also gave her a perspective that continues to fuel her mission today.

Living with chronic illness, PTSD and a permanent ileostomy, she has turned those challenges into resilience and purpose. In the years since, she has found joy, adventure, and meaning, advocating alongside friends, building new pathways for others, and creating opportunities she once wished had existed for herself.

That lived experience directly informs her role as the founder and CEO of Making Space, a talent and learning platform that has supported over 10,000 Disabled professionals through employment and education, and was recently named one of Forbes’ Top 100 Companies in Accessibility.

United Ostomy Associations of America (UOAA) has named Keely as this year’s World Ostomy Day Champion. The International Ostomy Association determined this year’s theme as “Invisible Disabilities. Visible Support. The Global Unity of Ostomates and the day is being celebrated on Saturday, October 4, 2025.

Highlighting ostomy awareness is about normalizing the conversation, breaking down barriers of shame, and ensuring that others with ostomies see themselves represented with dignity.

“Being a World Ostomy Day Champion is a huge honour. It’s about using my platform to bring visibility to a community that is tooPhoto of Keely a white woman with blond hair wearing a black midriff shirt with a black ostomy pouch just visible above the waistline of her black pants.  often overlooked, even within the wider disability movement. Having an ostomy has shaped so much of my lived experience, and I know how isolating it can feel when society erases or stigmatizes something so fundamental to your health and survival,” she says.

Keely is a Forbes 30 Under 30 honoree, the youngest-ever Presidential Leadership Scholar, and a Gloria Steinem Fellow. Keely has served on the advisory board of Lady Gaga’s Born This Way Foundation and has written on disability employment and representation in TIME, Fast Company, Rolling Stone, and more.

She also co-produced a film with Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine that helped spark policy reform for Disabled travelers, and has spoken at leading companies, governments, and global institutions to challenge perceptions of disability.

Prior to founding Making Space, Keely founded C Talent, a talent agency that reshaped disability representation in media and grew a roster reaching more than 50 million people. Acquired in 2022, C Talent became the largest acquisition of a company specializing in Disabled talent.

Raising ostomy awareness is a passion for Keely.

“Highlighting ostomy awareness is about normalizing the conversation, breaking down barriers of shame, and ensuring that others with ostomies see themselves represented with dignity. It’s also about pushing for systemic change, because accessibility, healthcare, and inclusion must extend to every part of our lives, including how we navigate the world with medical devices,” she says.

“We have legal rights, and our access needs must be upheld. Public restroom access, supply coverage, and travel accommodations, and more are disability justice issues, not optional extras.”

UOAA recognizes that not all people living with an ostomy feel a connection to this year’s “Invisible Disabilities” theme or the larger Disability rights movement but we seek to educate all ostomates on their workplace rights and federal ADA protections. UOAA works toward a society where people with ostomies and intestinal or urinary diversions are universally accepted and supported socially, economically, medically, and psychologically.

Living with an ostomy means navigating many of the same barriers faced by other Disabled people: inaccessible spaces, employment discrimination, lack of workplace accommodations, and stigma that silences.Keely wearing black on the white marble steps of the U.S. Capitol building in Washington, DC

“Disability is broad, diverse, and intersectional. Including ostomates within the movement strengthens it, ensuring that no Disabled person feels left out of their own community,” Keely says. “It is easy to feel “not Disabled enough” within disability spaces, and it is also easy to feel “too Disabled” in non-Disabled spaces.” She believes ostomate stories can change perceptions of what disability looks like and that our experiences deserve to be seen and valued within the broader Disability community.

“We have legal rights, and our access needs must be upheld. Public restroom access, supply coverage, and travel accommodations, and more are disability justice issues, not optional extras.”

In her 10 years with an ostomy Keely has seen positive changes in ostomy awareness and acceptance.

“It has been awesome watching the increase in people sharing their stories openly on social media. What used to feel like something hidden or stigmatized is now being reclaimed with pride, people are creating visibility, building community, and sparking action just by speaking their truth.”

In her business work she has also seen brands start to reflect change. “When companies like LEGO include ostomy representation in their products, it sends such a strong message: that our experiences are valid, visible, and worth celebrating. Representation like that normalizes the conversation and gives young people a chance to grow up seeing themselves reflected in the world around them.”

Of course, both Keely and UOAA recognize that there’s still work to do.

“Stigma remains, and too many people continue to face discrimination, lack of access to the right supplies, or barriers when traveling and working. To keep driving progress, we all need to keep telling our stories, keep pushing for policy changes, and keep holding brands, governments, and healthcare systems accountable.”

To find out more from Keely Cat-Wells, check out the upcoming Hidden Disabilities Sunflower Conversations Podcast on October 4 where she appears alongside Nate Hadlock, Chair of UOAA’s Patient Advisory Board. To get involved in World Ostomy Day 2025 please visit https://www.ostomy.org/world-ostomy-day/

DENISE: LIVING WITH SHORT BOWEL SYNDROME

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For most of my life, I measured the time it would take me to make it safely to the bathroom. If the bathroom dash was an Olympic event, I’d have won a gold medal! I often use humor when I talk about my condition, short bowel syndrome (SBS). But my story is one of hope, and how staying hopeful has helped me through each day. Of course, it was more than that. Living with a serious and chronic gastrointestinal disorder like SBS can require determination, persistence, and yes, even a sense of humor. I’m thankful I’ve had one my whole life. My name is Denise 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.

My Story Begins

As a teenager, I had an ongoing argument with my brother and sisters. Whenever it was time to do the dishes, I had to use the bathroom. They never realized that the reason that I had to use the bathroom every time we were done eating was because I had a medical issue. They just noticed that when it was my turn to do dishes I always disappeared. Nobody knew what was happening. In our family, we never went to the doctor and you put up with whatever you had going on. My dad and I were always racing each other to the bathroom to see who could get there first. I realize now that my father probably had some form of bowel disease, but he never was diagnosed.

When I was 18, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. But I was determined to never let it get in my way. I got married and had three beautiful daughters. Along the way, I took a job as a 9-1-1 operator and eventually entered the police academy and became a police officer. Unfortunately, my first marriage didn’t last, but in time I met, fell in love with and eventually married a man who was then a member of the SWAT team. At that time, I finally felt like my life was falling into place—except for my recurrent Crohn’s flare-ups. Over the years, I had several surgeries caused by bowel obstructions. Each occurrence sent my determination into overtime. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. I powered through each occurrence hoping it would be my last.

Then in 2009, even my unflappable hope and determination were tested after I retired from the police department. In November of that year, my husband developed a tumor on his spine, which left him paralyzed from the chest down. During this time, I cared for him and didn’t think about my Crohn’s disease at all. Although I didn’t want to admit it, the stress of caring for my husband around the clock took its toll on me. My Crohn’s disease got my attention like a house of bricks falling on top of me and one after another, complications set in.

Setbacks, Sepsis and Surgery

My daughter and her spouse moved in to help take care of my husband. Eventually I was hospitalized with yet another obstruction. Each time that I thought I was getting better, I’d suffer another setback. I became septic and had to go back to the hospital. I had an ileostomy to give my intestines and bowels a rest. If you are not familiar with an ileostomy, it is a surgically created opening in the abdomen in which a piece of the ileum (lowest part of the small intestine) is brought outside the abdominal wall. A stoma is created through which digested food passes into an external pouching system.

I was in the hospital for weeks, but I continued to worsen. I had horrible diarrhea and my electrolytes were off. Then I began having heart problems and was placed in the intensive care unit (ICU), where my kidneys began to fail. My body began shutting down and I was transferred to a specialty clinic. I was there for a month.

When I was finally discharged, I couldn’t leave the house for fear of having an accident if the ileostomy bag became too full and leaked—which it frequently did! After my surgery, food was moving too rapidly from my stomach to small intestines, an issue known as “dumping syndrome” – which caused me to experience a high volume of diarrhea. I had trouble keeping a good seal on my stoma site. Because of this, the skin surrounding my stoma became raw and infected. It was a vicious cycle!

My Diagnosis: Short Bowel Syndrome

Even after my ileostomy was reversed, I had limited bowel control. I was in and out of the hospital for over a year, and in November 2013 I was diagnosed with short bowel syndrome or SBS. SBS is 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. In adults, SBS can develop from a loss of function and surgical removal of parts of the intestine due to inflammatory bowel disease (IBD), such as Crohn’s disease. I sat there in shock. The thought of living like this for the rest of my life left me numb. When we returned home. I immediately went online. The more I read, the more I was worried. But then I realized, I could do this. Yes, having SBS would impact my life more than I initially thought, but it wouldn’t stop me.

At that time, since I could barely take care of myself, my husband had to stay at a nursing home.
My life was a roller coaster, out of control. I was confined to home by SBS. I would eat and have to use
the bathroom five minutes later.

I told my doctor, “I can’t live like this; this isn’t living. I don’t see my friends. I’m crying all the time.” Because I wasn’t able to absorb food or nutrients, I was placed on different forms of parenteral support, or PS. Monday through Saturday I had a large bag of clear saline solution and I had to administer the medications into the bag. The transfusion took 12 hours to complete. Then I had total parenteral nutrition (TPN) infusions at night. The infusions really limited my ability to get out of the house and be active. And when I did get out, I had to pack an emergency bag whenever I left the house in case I had an accident. I had cleaning supplies, garbage bags for soiled clothes, and clean clothing. It was so embarrassing having an accident when out with friends, shopping, going to the doctor, going to the dentist, going to the grocery store, mowing the lawn, or even talking to my neighbors. I didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry. I chose laughter because I was afraid to cry.

Starting An SBS Treatment

In May 2015, my determination and optimism were about at their limit when my doctor told me about a medication called GATTEX® (teduglutide) for subcutaneous injection. He told me I might be a good candidate to try GATTEX, which is a prescription medicine approved for use in adults and children 1 year of age and older with short bowel syndrome who need additional nutrition or fluids from intravenous (IV) feeding. This type of IV feeding is also known as parenteral support (PS). It is not known if GATTEX is safe and effective in children under 1 year of age.

We talked about the potential benefits and risks of the medication, including the risk of 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. Learning about these potential side effects led me to hesitate a bit, but I believed that if I didn’t try to treat my condition, it would remain the same or could even get worse. These are not all the possible side effects, so anyone considering GATTEX treatment should talk to their own healthcare professional or medical team. I weighed the risks and benefits, and my doctor and I decided together that I should start GATTEX.

Please continue reading for additional Important Safety Information.

Within six months, I was able to reduce my parenteral support (PS) with GATTEX, which meant less PS at night—with fewer accidents and more sleep. While this was my experience with GATTEX, others may have different treatment experiences. I still sometimes have uncontrolled bowel movements and I sleep on a pad. Because I still never know when an uncontrolled bowel movement may happen, I wear a pad if I’m going to be out of the house for a while, just in case. But I no longer have to carry a PS backpack with me. After being on GATTEX for a number of months, with the help and monitoring of my doctor, I was able to come off my PS. With less PS I was able to do things I enjoy.

I admit, I don’t love giving myself a shot every day. I always hesitate for a nanosecond and then surprise myself. Some days are easier than others. I do my shot at bedtime and rotate it around the four sections of my abdomen.

I can’t adequately describe my joy that GATTEX has worked well for me! Sure, I still have problems now and then, but really, who doesn’t have problems in life? It’s such a relief that I can leave home and enjoy the things I love! I travel, visit friends, go to the grocery store, play pickleball, and even golf!

If you’re diagnosed with SBS, don’t give up. There are times when I took life an hour at a time. I’d encourage you to focus on going forward. In my experience, it helps to have supportive friends and family, and a trusting relationship with the medical team helping you. My doctor has dietitians on staff and they work with my nutrition plan to help ensure I’m making good choices. My doctor orders tests to check my levels. If any of the results are “off,” I’m then advised of any changes that need to be made.

Today, I’ve hung up my Olympic medal for the bathroom dash and that’s just fine with me. I’ve faced the difficulties of living with short bowel syndrome and once again discovered hope, persistence, and laughter.

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.

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.

©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-1644v1.0 08/25

 

Resilience Story: Matt Marra

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A couple years ago, I wasn’t thinking much about my health. I was a little overweight, but nothing alarming. Life was busy working full-time while chasing around two wild but wonderful kids under five.

Then in November 2023, everything changed. I started bleeding when I used the bathroom. Over time, the urgency and frequency increased, and I found myself going 6–8 times a day. After bouncing between urgent care, my primary doctor, and a GI specialist, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in January 2024.

Those three months waiting for a diagnosis were a mental warzone. Googling symptoms like “dark red blood in stool” returns a fun list: hemorrhoids, IBD, and cancer. While I was relieved to finally have a diagnosis, IBD wasn’t something I ever imagined dealing with.

At first, I managed with diet. I avoided trigger foods and even used ChatGPT to check what I could safely eat when dining out. But during a vacation in February I flared badly. What was supposed to be a beautiful cruise celebrating my brother’s and sister-in-law’s marriage ended up being an endless visit to excursions on the toilet and lying in bed. On the flight home, I had to abandon my 3-year-old in his seat four separate times to rush to the bathroom. It was a rude awakening to how terrible ulcerative colitis and iBD in general could be, and created a new fear constantly in the back of my mind that the next thing I eat or do may make me sick for weeks at a time. Things did not get better when we got back.

On Monday, March 4th, I went to the ER thinking I’d get some medication and go home. Instead, I was admitted. “Steroids always help! You’ll be out in a few days,” they said. But by the weekend, I was even worse.

Then I tried biologics. “Infusions never fail,” they told me about 30 minutes before I failed my first one.

After multiple failed treatments, and now two weeks into my hospital stay, I was transferred overnight to a hospital in the city. Surgery was mentioned early on as a worst-case scenario, just in case. My brother had questions for the surgical team at that time, but I brushed them off: “We’re so far from that! There’s no way it’s going to happen.”

Flash forward to the third week. I was exhausted, nauseated, and in pain. Surgery stopped being the last resort. I wanted it. I told the surgeon I wished the decision would be made for me, because mentally, I wasn’t strong enough to choose that road on my own.

On Friday, March 22nd, after continued lack of progress, my care team made the call: it was time. My colon had perforated. I was rushed into emergency surgery for a total colectomy. I woke up with an ileostomy and a new chapter ahead.

Adjusting to a stoma was overwhelming. Seeing a piece of your intestine, or stoma, outside your body doesn’t exactly quickly become “normal.” I hadn’t even realized, 30+ years into life, that people pooped out of their stomachs. My wife and I were told we were brave during ostomy training, since many people can’t even bear to look at themselves post-surgery. I didn’t feel brave, just dazed. But I found ways, through products and routine, to feel okay in my own skin.

At the 5k, I met people who had lived with ostomies for years, people who got it. That sense of community grounded me. Seeing others thrive helped me believe I could, too.

Matt Marra showing his ostomy belt while running the Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k in Illinois, his first year after surgery. Photo by Anne Marra.

Discovering My Resilience

Managing leaks, mastering appliance changes, showering without disaster, sleeping through the night without anxiety, all of it took time. There were 3 a.m. blowouts. There were tears. There was grief and anger.

But I adapted. The stoma became a part of me. Most of the time, I didn’t notice it — and neither did anyone else. I could eat again. I didn’t obsess over bathroom access. I had energy. I had my life back.

And most importantly — my ostomy saved my life.

I spent 30 nights in the hospital. On the worst days, walking three laps around the floor felt like running a marathon. I told myself: just make it to the next milestone. So when I saw the UOAA’s 2024 Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k in Downers Grove, Illinois, I signed up, not just to raise awareness, but to prove something to myself.

Crossing that finish line in just my second-ever 5k was emotional. It felt like a full-circle moment. I was back. Maybe not the same. But just as strong.

Support made all the difference. My wife Anne helped with bag changes, middle-of-the-night cleanups, and the emotional weight of it all. My brothers, Nick and Joe, made sure I was never alone during those long hospital nights.

At the 5k, I met people who had lived with ostomies for years — people who got it. That sense of community grounded me. Seeing others thrive helped me believe I could, too.

From March 2024 to June 2025, I lived a very full life with my ostomy. I traveled to weddings in Mexico and Colorado. I climbed mountains. I flew to Austria and Slovakia for a week-long work trip. Ten-hour flights used to terrify me. Now? No problem. My ostomy didn’t hold me back. If anything, it gave me freedom.

I continue to push myself, no matter the challenges. To show my kids what resilience means.

To every UC patient I’ve talked to about surgery: no, I don’t get a commission. I just know what my ostomy did for me. How UC wrecked my life, and how surgery gave me peace, physically and mentally. I know my path was fast: diagnosis to surgery in five months. But in some ways, I’m grateful. I didn’t suffer for years. I got my life back sooner. For as mentally draining as it was to constantly worry about my health, what I was eating, and where the closest bathroom were – I can only imagine what that is like for those that have been through this for decades battling their chronic IBD.

My ostomy was temporary, though it felt like a permanent part of me. I had two more surgeries, in March and June 2025, to transition to a J-pouch. The stoma is gone, but the scar remains. A battle scar. A reminder. And something I’ll always be thankful for.

For most of my time with an ostomy, I asked: “Why me?” What were the odds? Could I have avoided this if one treatment had worked?

But near the end of my journey, that shifted. I started thinking: “Wow… I’m glad I had an ostomy.” Because it taught me I could not just survive with it but that I could live a full life with it. Looking back on those early conversations in the hospital, when the idea of pooping out of your stomach felt surreal, I never imagined I’d feel that way just one year later.

I continue to push myself, no matter the challenges. To show my kids what resilience means. That no matter what knocks you down, you get back up.

And this October, I’ll lace up again for the 2025 Run for Resilience for yet another milestone. Another chance to prove I’m still standing and thriving.

 

 

Visit Matt’s Run for Resilience fundraiser at https://runsignup.com/marra to support the nonprofit programs and services of UOAA. To learn more or sign-up for a Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k near you or virtually visit ostomy.org/5k. 

Navigating Body Image After Ostomy Surgery

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When you get an ostomy, most of the advice you’ll hear is practical. It comes in boxes and routines: bags and baseplates, barrier strips and rings. There’s talk of wear time and skin prep, of what to eat and when to empty. These logistics matter, of course; they’re a necessary first step after a major surgery. But beneath this adjustment is often another layer of healing, one that goes beyond the physical.

An ostomy doesn’t just change how your body works. It can also change how you feel inside. It can shift how you see your body, yourself, and your worth, affecting everything from what you wear, to where you go, to how close you let others get. Amid all this change, you might even start to wonder: How could I ever accept myself like this?

For many, life with an ostomy involves the ongoing work of making peace with your body—to meet it not with shame, but with patience, gentleness, and ultimately acceptance. It’s about rebuilding trust with a body that may suddenly feel unfamiliar and allowing that body to once again feel like home.

Body image after ostomy surgery

More than just how you look, body image is about comfort, confidence, and feeling like yourself. Ostomy surgery can profoundly disrupt that sense of self-connection.

A 2018 research review found that poor body image is one of the most common emotional challenges after ostomy surgery. Even when recovery is technically going well—when a WOCN nurse smiles and says, “You’re doing great”—you might hear a voice inside that replies, “Yeah, right,” as waves of self-consciousness or grief roll in.

For many, social stigma only adds weight. Harmful myths that say ostomies are dirty or shameful can take root internally. One study found that nearly half of people with permanent colostomies experience this kind of stigma, which can erode emotional well-being and self-worth.

Even when surrounded by love, you might find yourself hiding. The shirt once worn with pride might get folded away, replaced by oversized clothes chosen more for camouflage than comfort. You might avoid mirrors, not out of vanity, but out of grief for a body that once felt like yours. Intimacy may feel distant, shadowed by the fear of being seen, touched, or rejected.

In all of this, you’re not alone.

What factors shape body image after ostomy surgery?

Body image isn’t fixed; it’s shaped by your history, current circumstances, and how you emotionally process change. Several key factors can influence how someone adjusts:

1. Age and stage of life: Research shows that younger adults often experience greater body image distress after ostomy surgery. This is a time when identity, sexuality, and self-expression are still being shaped—when you’re still learning who you are and how you want to be seen.

In this context, everyday moments can take on new complexity. You may find yourself doing quiet check-ins throughout the day: Is the bag visible? Is it full? Is it leaking? These small, repeated considerations can influence how you move through the world, especially in a culture where bodies with ostomies are rarely represented.

2. Reason for surgery. The reason behind an ostomy may also impact how you adjust to life with it. Even with the same procedure, the emotional meaning is shaped by the life story it enters—and that story can be the lens through which the body is seen.

Research suggests that people who undergo ostomy surgery due to cancer, for instance, may report lower levels of body image distress. While an ostomy can be life-saving in many contexts, cancer survivors may be more likely to see it that way: as a visible mark of survival and strength.

For others, the emotional meaning may feel more complex. When surgery follows years of chronic illness, misdiagnosis, or medical trauma, for example, the experience can carry different associations. Perhaps it’s not triumph, but relief, fatigue, or even resignation. One study found that some participants with inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) viewed their stoma as an embarrassing complication of their condition—something tied more to shame than strength.

But meaning isn’t fixed. With time, support, and self-compassion, your relationship with your ostomy can evolve, no matter the reason behind it.

3. Temporary vs. permanent ostomy. Research also shows that temporary stomas can lead to greater body image distress. When your ostomy isn’t permanent, it can feel like you’re living in a body that doesn’t quite belong to you—just a version you’re passing through. This in-between state can create a kind of psychological limbo: it’s hard to fully grieve what’s been lost and hard to fully accept what is.

While permanent ostomies can bring their own grief, they may also bring a sense of clarity that limbo does not. When you know this is your body now, you may be better equipped to make peace with it.

What can help: Tips for navigating body image after ostomy surgery

1. Find the right ostomy products for you. It’s hard to feel at ease in your body when the products meant to support it don’t feel reliable. Worrying about leaks, irritation, or a poor fit can quietly wear on your confidence. But when your pouching system truly works for you, it can create space for deeper healing and acceptance.

If the medical look or rustling sound of your ostomy pouch makes you feel more self-conscious, know this: not all pouches are the same. Some are designed to move with your body, to bend and stretch as you do. Some fold into a smaller shape that tucks easily under clothes. Some come in colors like black or gray, offering an alternative to a medical beige. Pair these ostomy bags with supporting products like barrier strips and moldable rings, as needed, and you can find a system that fits both your ostomy and your life.

2. Remember what your body is for. After ostomy surgery—after the shock, the healing, and the slow return to everyday life—it’s easy to forget what your body is still doing for you.

It breathes without asking. It heals, even when you’re not watching. It adapts in ways you never expected, creating space for you to live the life you want. Your body allows you to laugh, cry, rest, move, connect, and wake up to a new day. Again and again, that is something worth honoring.

3. Focus on what lights you up. On tough body image days, it can help to shift your focus away from your body. Try asking:

  • What reminds me that I’m still me, despite all I’ve been through?
  • Who or what helps me feel seen beyond how I look?
  • What brings me joy, even for a moment?

Maybe it’s the warmth of your morning tea. A dog’s thumping tail when you pass through the door. A text that says, I get it.

These small lights matter. They can remind you that your life is bigger than managing a stoma, and that you’re here to live in ways that have nothing to do with appearance.

4. Let go of the timeline. Healing isn’t linear. There is no “right” time to feel okay in your body again. No checklist or countdown—just you, moving through it all in your own way, in your own time.

Some days might feel lighter, like body acceptance is just within reach. Other days may stir up discomfort or grief in places you thought had healed. That doesn’t mean you’re failing; it means you’re human. Release the pressure to arrive somewhere quickly and trust that just showing up for yourself is its own kind of progress.

Your body is still worthy after ostomy surgery

After ostomy surgery, your body is not broken. It is changed. It is not less worthy, just newly shaped.

You don’t have to love every part of it. You don’t have to feel grateful all the time. But your body, with its stoma and its pouch, is still here.

It’s still breathing. Still yours. And still deserving of care and peace.

References

Ayaz-Alkaya S. (2019). Overview of psychosocial problems in individuals with stoma: A review of literature. International wound journal, 16(1), 243–249. https://doi.org/10.1111/iwj.13018

Guo, L., Rohde, J., & Farraye, F. A. (2020). Stigma and disclosure in patients with inflammatory bowel disease. Inflammatory Bowel Diseases, 26(7), 1010–1016. https://doi.org/10.1093/ibd/izz260

Jayarajah, U., & Samarasekera, D. N. (2017). Psychological adaptation to alteration of body image among stoma patients: A descriptive study. Indian Journal of Psychological Medicine, 39(1), 63–68. https://doi.org/10.4103/0253-7176.198944

Mahjoubi, B., Mirzaei, R., Azizi, R., Jafarinia, M., & Zahedi-Shoolami, L. (2012). A cross-sectional survey of quality of life in colostomates: A report from Iran. Health and Quality of Life Outcomes, 10, 136. https://doi.org/10.1186/1477-7525-10-136

Simmons, K. L., Smith, J. A., Bobb, K. A., & Liles, L. L. (2007). Adjustment to colostomy: Stoma acceptance, stoma care self-efficacy and interpersonal relationships. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 60(6), 627–635. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2648.2007.04446.x

Yuan, J. M., Zhang, J. E., Zheng, M. C., & Bu, X. Q. (2018). Stigma and its influencing factors among Chinese patients with stoma. Psycho-Oncology, 27(6), 1565–1571. https://doi.org/10.1002/pon.4695

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.

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.

Ostomy Anxiety: Horror in the Grocery Store?

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By Robin Glover

Wallet, cell phone, keys…I’ve always had my essentials when I leave the house. But for the past several years, I’ve added something else to my checklist: ostomy supplies.

When you have an ostomy, you have to be ready for anything. The instant fill, the gas attack, and of course, the leak. Oh, the dreaded leak. It can happen anytime. Or, so it seems. But does it really?

I have this image in my head of catastrophe. There I am, in the middle of the grocery store aisle, my bag has completely fallen off as I stand in a puddle of stool that’s splashed across the floor while output shoots out of me like an over-the-top 80’s horror movie as I stand petrified, children crying out and everyone staring and pointing in disgust.

It always seems to be fear that holds me back more than my ostomy.

I mean, pretty worst-case-scenario stuff. But, it’s hard not to go there. Imagine, worrying about poop (or pee for urostomates) coming out of a hole in your stomach. Like, your front. Where everybody sees. This isn’t some “oopsie” you can pretend never happened. This is a big ol’ brown or yellow stain on the front of your shirt. And nobody’s been drinking coffee.

But is this image even real? I do have a tendency to imagine the worst. Some may even say it’s a talent. My therapist calls it a “cognitive distortion.”

In reality, I’ve had leaks in public. And that’s all they’ve ever been – leaks. Small little leaks that can be covered with tape until I’m able to get to a good spot. In the rare case (two times), it’s been a bigger leak, I was still able to get home and take care of it.

So, it’s fear more than reality. I’m scared of being embarrassed in public due to my ostomy bag. It’s a common fear. Everyone is afraid of being embarrassed. It’s a deep-rooted fear. But my ostomy seems to add a lack of control. I can control things like what I wear and how I act, but I have this stoma with a mind of its own.

It’s like having that “one friend.” Sure, they’re great at home when no one else is around, but take them out in public and you have to constantly worry about what they say. Or, perhaps what they ”blurt out” without warning. (However, unlike a loud friend, you are allowed to use tape to control ostomy pouch leaks).

My ostomy (ileostomy) is permanent. I will have it for life. I need to improve my relationship with it. One way I’m doing that is by being prepared. That’s really all I can do. Before I go somewhere, I check to make sure it’s good. Check the seal. Check the stoma. I now use ostomy pouches with a see-through window just for peace of mind.

I try to carry tape with me everywhere I go. It’s simple athletic tape, but it seals leaks and I can add a lot if need be. That I put in my pocket.

In a smaller bag/sweet fanny pack, I have extra precut ostomy bags, disposable bed pads (brand new, out-of-the-box, they’re very thin and easy to fit into a small bag), ostomy paste, paper towels (I use blue Scott Shop Towels because they’re soft and extra absorbent), and extra trash bags (the ones that come with the pouches). I have everything I need for a quick change. If I’m going somewhere where I’m a little worried I might not be able to find a place to change fast, I carry a backpack with more supplies and a complete change of clothes.

I try to carry tape with me everywhere I go.

More than that, I’ve been working on “decatastrophizing” before I even leave the house. Instead of simply imagining the worst, I think about the realistic possibility of it actually happening. I’ve worn an ostomy pouch for over four years and have never come close to the disaster I envision. It’s basically physically impossible for the bag to simply fall off. Every part of the wafer would have to come loose at once. Plus, I typically wear an ostomy wrap (and just got an ostomy belt). So…not going to happen.

There might be a leak. But I’ve got that handled. I’ve handled it before. It’s not a big deal.

It always seems to be fear that holds me back more than my ostomy. That’s good news, though. Because while I can’t control what comes out of me and when, I can control how I deal with my anxiety about it.

Robin Glover is a writer based in the Houston area. He has a permanent ostomy after being diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease in 2017.

Resilience Story: Barbara Tischler

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From the ICU to the long road back to health and giving back to the ostomy community.

In the afternoon of July 17, 2016, I had just returned home from an ice cream social (and I had eaten ice cream at a party the night before, as well. More on that later). I felt tired, so I laid down for a nap. Almost immediately, I began to feel abdominal pain. I went to the bathroom to see if I could alleviate matters by sitting on the toilet. For about a month, I had been having some constipation, but it had not raised any major red flags for me. And I had just turned 46 — too early for a colonoscopy at that time. When sitting on the toilet didn’t help and the pain got worse, I called for my husband. By the time he came upstairs, I was lying on the bathroom floor in tremendous pain. My stomach had become extremely distended, and I had removed a lot of my clothing because it was binding me. My husband called 911. The paramedics put me on a stretcher and carried me down the stairs and into the ambulance.

I remember the ride to the hospital, and I have a few sketchy memories of being in a hospital room, trying to hold in an enema, but failing to do so because of the pain. At that point, the doctor in the ER thought I just had severe constipation.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the ICU almost a week later in a heavily sedated fog and with a ventilator tube stuck down my throat. At some point later, the ventilator tube was removed (a day after a failed attempt to do so). My husband had to explain to me that a CT scan did not show anything wrong, but I was admitted to the hospital due to my pain. When my blood pressure dropped precipitously on July 19, the on-call surgeon was pulled in. He looked at the CT scan and saw evidence of air, which is a sign of a perforation. I was rushed into emergency surgery, where the surgeon found a cancerous tumor in my colon that had caused my stool to be impacted, which in turn, had triggered a massive perforation of my large intestine. I was in septic shock and close to death. The surgeon removed the tumor, resected my colon, and gave me a colostomy. I owe my life to that surgeon.

I found the right pouching system by making a multitude of phone calls and not giving up or settling until l found the right solution for me.

Initially, the plan was that in two to three months, I would have the colostomy reversed. Then, that changed to include six months of chemotherapy to eradicate any microscopic cancer cells floating around in my abdomen, due to the contents of my colon having been dumped into my abdomen. After that, I would get my colon reconnected.

However, that was not to be. I was starting to recover a bit in a regular hospital room. But due to the perforation, I had developed multiple abscesses of infected fluid in my abdomen. I started with a drainage tube, but eventually, my surgeon discovered that there were many abscesses unreachable by drainage tubes. So, on August 5, I went into surgery to drain all the areas of infected fluid. Unfortunately, I ended up back in the ICU on a ventilator. And I was told that because the infection had damaged organs, my spleen, 60% of my small intestine, and the entirety of my colon were removed. I now had a permanent ileostomy. And despite the second surgery, I eventually ended up needing three drainage tubes for three new abscesses that formed.


Halloween 2018 – my group fitness exercise class, where I showed my ostomy pride and spread awareness by wearing an ostomy pouch on the outside of my clothes, with a stoma sticker in the center.

I was quite sick and ended up staying in the hospital a total of 52 days, followed by two weeks at a rehab facility. During all this time, my husband was amazing. He kept friends and family up to date with nearly daily emails, on top of working full time, taking care of our 12 and 15-year-old sons, and visiting me in the hospital almost every day. My mother-in-law, friends, and people from my synagogue helped out with meals for my husband and sons. I received so many flowers that my hospital window sill looked like a florist shop. I also had an incredible number of phone calls and visits from friends and family. My parents came from Arizona and my brother came from California at one point while I was in the hospital, and a sister-in-law came from Texas while I was in rehab.

Once I got home, I had a PICC line through which I had to give myself antibiotics (continuing on with the antibiotics I received the entire time I was in the hospital and rehab). I bottomed out at 70 pounds and had little energy. I was also experiencing frequent ostomy leaks and still had one last drainage tube that had to stay until the abcess fully drained (which didn’t happen until November) and a fistula that had formed closed up (which didn’t happen until April 2017). I became very depressed and started to think about ways I might end it all. When I started verbalizing these suicidal thoughts, my husband told a home healthcare nurse, who urged him to take me to the hospital. I did not want to go, but when my 12-year-old son said that he did not want to NOT have a mommy, I agreed to go. Even though my stay in behavioral health did nothing to solve my ostomy leaks or my weight loss, I came home with my head screwed on a little more tightly.

There is nothing like being in a room with other people who know exactly what you are going through.

The next several months were a whirlwind of doctor appointments and drainage tube checks at interventional radiology. A caretaker helped me during the day and got me to my medical appointments while my husband was at work. Throughout the fall, I continued struggling with ostomy leaks, often happening in the middle of the night. My husband helped clean up my messes and helped me with my pouch changes. I had three public leaks, which were mortifying.  I also started to notice numbness in my feet. I figured out it was neuropathy caused by my long-term antibiotic use. As soon as the last abscess was completely drained, I called my infectious disease doctor and asked if I could finally stop the taking the antibiotics. Thankfully, he said yes. While the neuropathy didn’t spread any further after that, I unfortunately ended up with permanent numbness in my feet. I have a fuzzy feeling in them to this day, although I don’t think about it most of the time.

Eventually, I got two months of at-home TPN to help with my weight. I had become malnourished because my body was not absorbing nutrients. With the TPN, one thousand calories a night went into my body intravenously, bypassing my apparently faulty digestive system. This helped tremendously to boost my weight. And while it took me time to feel comfortable with the idea of eating ice cream again (given that my harrowing experience started after eating ice cream), eventually I did!

Barbara with fellow ostomate and Illinois Ostomy 5k co-director Bret Cromer.

After becoming fed up with ostomy leaks, I called all the ostomy pouch manufacturers and tried tons of samples. I kept getting my hopes up that each new pouching system would work, and then it would fail. However, I eventually found a winner with a custom pouch from Nu-Hope. It gave me my life back. I was able to go back to working with my organizing clients in their homes without worrying about leaks.

My father found out about the Ostomy Support Group of DuPage County and contacted its leader, Bret Cromer. A friend introduced me to a fellow synagogue congregant and member of this UOAA affiliated support group. She encouraged me to start attending meetings. In January 2017, I finally felt well enough to go to my first meeting, and I have been an active member ever since. There is nothing like being in a room with other people who know exactly what you are going through. I have made great friends and learned about helpful products that I have incorporated into my ostomy care routine. Fellow members helped me when I first joined, so now I try to pay it forward by helping new members.

I was a long-distance runner from age seven through eighteen. After years of suffering from shin splints every time I tried to run, I finally figured out in 2012 how to plant my foot when running to relieve stress on my shins. After my intestinal surgeries, I gradually got back to taking the group fitness exercise classes I had taken pre-illness, but every time I tried to run, it felt like I had cement blocks on my feet. Eventually, though, I started to get a bit more spring in my step. I tried running again one day, and while initially I had the cement-block feeling, I kept going and it got easier. I was thrilled to be able to run again!

In 2018, I saw the UOAA webpage of Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k runs throughout the country for Ostomy Awareness Day. That motivated me to organize my support group’s first informal Run for Resilience 5k. I organized these informal virtual ostomy 5ks every year through 2023. I also became the treasurer for my support group in 2023, and in 2024, Bret Cromer and I co-organized our first official UOAA run, located in Downers Grove, Illinois!

My husband and older son have been very involved with the support group. They attend social/holiday gatherings of the group with me, and they have helped at the 5k events. As for me, being an active member in the support group and organizing the 5k events make me feel pride in having an ostomy. I still have private pity parties occasionally, but overall, I feel that I am an emotionally strong and resilient ostomate.

October 5, 2024 – my older son, me, and my husband at the Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k in Downers Grove, Illinois.

My parents have a charitable fund through the Arizona Community Foundation. They have generously donated to my support group and to the UOAA through this fund. I am so grateful for their support. In 2019, I was greatly honored to be inducted into my high school Athletic Hall of Fame. At the ceremony, my father introduced me, and I shared my cancer and ostomy story in my acceptance speech.

I never received chemotherapy. By the time I was healthy enough for it, my oncologist said it would not be very effective. Instead, he watched me very closely with frequent CT scans and bloodwork. Every time anything looked suspicious, I had follow-up tests and biopsies that thankfully showed benign masses, some of which resolved on their own. Finally, in June 2023, after having several clean scans, my oncologist told me about a new option called a circulating tumor DNA test. I jumped at the opportunity. A lab took my original tumor and determined its DNA. Then, the lab looked for that DNA in my current blood plasma, and there was no evidence of it! My oncologist released me from cancer surveillance. Getting the good test result and saying goodbye to my oncologist were very emotional moments for me.

Being an active member in the support group and organizing the 5k events make me feel pride in having an ostomy.

Among many things throughout my journey, I have learned the power of self-advocacy. Here are a few examples. I found the right pouching system by making a multitude of phone calls and not giving up or settling until l found the right solution for me. Through online research, I discovered a much more palatable oral contrast for my CT scans than barium sulfate, called water-soluble iodinated oral contrast. It turned out that my cancer center knew about this option, but did not offer it to me until I asked if they had it. And I had to make multiple requests to speak to my GI doctor to request blood work to prove to my GI doctor that I did not have Celiac disease, after he claimed I did when an endoscopy showed flattened villi in my small intestine.

I have had several hiccups along the way involving hospitalizations related to my ostomy (severe dehydration and diarrhea, small intestinal bacterial overgrowth, and blockages) and tendinitis injuries that make it difficult for me to run, but somehow, I always manage to bounce back.

Thank you to Barbara for sharing this inspiring story and giving back. To learn more or sign-up for a Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k near you or virtually visit ostomy.org/5k. To celebrate the resilience of Barbara and her ostomy community donate to the Downers Grove, IL Run for Resilience Ostomy 5k.

Meet Christina & Molly – Two Friends, One Mission

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We’re Christina and Molly — best friends who both have Crohn’s disease and ileostomies. Over the years, we’ve come to realize what a gift it is to have each other’s support on this journey, and now we want to share that gift with others.

Christina is 43 and has lived with Crohn’s for 24 years. She’s had her ileostomy for 13 years and lives in Texas with her husband and their 7-year-old son. Her son was conceived and delivered while she had her ileostomy, proving that yes, a successful pregnancy can be done!

Molly is 38 and has had Crohn’s for 21 years and an ileostomy for 18. Born and raised on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, she now splits her time between California and Hawaii. Thanks to her ileostomy, she has a great quality of life — she wakesurfs, does hot yoga, plays pickleball, and, best of all, no longer has to plan her life around bathroom trips.

We’ve partnered with UOAA to create videos and share resources that provide honest, uplifting, and helpful support for ostomates — whether you’re newly adjusting or have had your ostomy for years. Your life isn’t over– you’re just simply learning your new normal. We are hoping to help you thrive in your new normal living with an ostomy.

Christina and Molly started sharing their health journeys on YouTube at Crohn’s Talk: Belly Laughs and Battles where you can find more of their videos. Stay tuned to @TheUOAAInc on YouTube to discover new videos by them for the ostomy community in the weeks ahead. Feel free to comment and let us know what topics  you would like to see discussed. Disclaimer: They are not providing medical advice, but sharing to help others. 

Fears, Faux Pas and Fulfillment

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My Ostomy Story

Hello! My name is Marcia Benedict. I have a urostomy due to bladder cancer.

Facing an ostomy and what life would be after surgery can be overwhelming and I found myself repeating, “I never expected this”.  I was dumbfounded, speechless; and at first, all I could do was cry. I hope my story will give you the strength, support, and desire to thrive beyond expectations.

My Journey

After retiring to Tucson, AZ in 2019, I remembered hearing, “if you ever find yourself in need of medical attention and don’t know who or where to turn, search for the nearest teaching hospital”. I sought medical attention at Banner University Medical Center. The support from doctors and their care team, my Ostomy nurse (CWOCN) and our local Ostomy Support Group has been invaluable.

Despite the initial fear and challenges, I adapted to my new normal by being my own best advocate. I needed to speak up, be determined and resilient.Through it all: Urogram, cystoscopy, cytology, TURBT (transurethral resection of bladder tumor).  Diagnosis: T2/T3 tumor of the bladder invading the vaginal wall. Treatment: chemotherapy, radical cystectomy and hysterectomy. Recovery: one day at a time. Time for emotional and physical healing, following doctors’ orders, being kind and patient with myself. I survived each step, repeating each as needed along the way, and so can you!

Be Prepared – a Few Hints and Hacks

As I was living alone and my cat was not proficient in nursing duties, I requested skilled nursing rehab (SKF) upon hospital discharge. Though my surgeon recommended recovery with home health, he understood my dilemma and helped make those arrangements through his nurse navigator and case manager, followed by home health services (visiting nurse, PT/OT, nutritionist) when I returned home.

Support was such a lifeline in helping me better understand and cope,

Before surgery, I ensured I had a waterproof mattress pad, chux (puppy pads) for my bed and bathroom. Upon discharge from SKF and home health therapy, I preordered my ostomy supplies with the help of my WOC nurse. Over time, I became efficient in changing my pouching system, reducing the time from over an hour to now 15 minutes. Practice makes perfect (most of the time). Despite initial challenges, I adapted with determination. I set alarms on my phone to remind me to empty my pouch and avert potential leaks. Just in case, I always carry a puppy pad under the front seat of my car. To this day, I have repeat calendar schedules to change my pouch. Once, driving on the Interstate, I improvised with an empty water bottle as a makeshift urinal when restrooms were closed during the pandemic. I also keep an empty disposable water bottle (with the cap) in my car and a complete pouch change packet in my purse or backpack. These experiences taught me valuable lessons and have helped me manage with confidence.

You Are Not Alone

Two days before my surgery at the suggestion of my WOC nurse, I went to an Ostomy Support Group, a local affiliate of UOAA. To my surprise, I walked into a roomfull of ostomates of all types. They were welcoming. In a roundtable setting, they talked about the facts, the foibles and the freedom of living with an ostomy. They gave me strength to face what was coming and faith that there was life after ostomy surgery.

That first meeting led me to fulfill one of my retirement goals: …to give back by helping  others facing similar journeys. Recovering during the pandemic, in-person meetings were cancelled. Support was such a lifeline in helping me better understand and cope, I signed up as a phone contact. The Local Group initiated monthly Zoom meetings; and when restrictions were lifted, in-person monthly meetings reconvened.

I’m excited to be attending for the first time this year’s UOAA National Conference in Orlando. I’ve heard from previous attendees the information is educational, inspiring and a good time is had by all. I look forward to meeting some of the wonderful UOAA personnel who have helped me along my journey. Enough can’t be said about their resources: tips, educational publications, particularly the “Living with a Urostomy” guide online, supportive Ostomy Academy discussions and video sessions. If you haven’t tapped into the website www.ostomy.org or the UOAA Facebook page, I encourage you to check it out.

The Future

Initially, everything was daunting, but my expectations for retirement and recovery have exceeded my dreams. I’m healthy, happy and fearless.

Despite the initial fear and challenges, I adapted to my new normal by being my own best advocate.

Surrounded by family and friends, I’m active. I play golf, swim, and dance again. I travel by car, plane, and train in the U.S and internationally. Supplies and all, I braved a 26-day cruise. I even rode a camel!

Wherever I go, my “Bathroom Access Card” is in my wallet, and translated in 2 foreign languages on my phone. In recovery, I found the time and strength to redesign and renovate my kitchen. Made time to socialize. I recently attended my oldest granddaughter’s college graduation and all the festivities. I’m looking forward to it all over again with my second granddaughter who is studying medicine. Since my surgery, I feel blessed indeed, going on 6 years NED (no evidence of disease).

And I’m no longer single! I have a wonderful relationship with a man who adores me for who I am, including my ostomy. There is little to keep me from a fulfilling life, and you shouldn’t let a pouch stop you either.

You’ve Got This!

Why do some people with ostomies name their stoma?

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Stella. Betty Poop. Homer the Stoma.

To some, stoma names may seem silly or childish. A stoma is not a pet, after all. Not a car or childhood stuffed animal. People don’t typically name their liver or spleen—so why, then, would anyone name a stoma?

For many people with ostomies, naming their stoma isn’t just a quirky custom; it’s a meaningful practice. It’s not about trivializing a potentially life-saving surgery or minimizing the complexity of ostomy life. Rather, it’s a tool for healing. Naming may be a way to reclaim agency in moments of powerlessness, to bring levity to something heavy, and to create connection—with yourself and others—amid profound change.

Naming your stoma as a coping strategy

Seeing your stoma for the first time may be a deeply jarring experience. That small section of intestine or urinary tract, visible through your abdominal wall, can trigger a range of emotions: shock, grief, maybe even a sense of bodily betrayal. Your stoma may feel like a glaring marker of surgery, illness, or loss—a visible reminder of all you’ve been through or what makes you feel different.

Adapting to an ostomy is a deeply personal journey, shaped by physical, psychological, and social factors. For many, the experience goes far beyond ordering ostomy supplies or managing pouch changes. It touches self-image, identity, and the core questions we ask in moments of significant change: Who am I now? What does this mean for my life?

While there’s no single path through this process, research shows that how you relate to your stoma matters. How you view it, speak about it, and ultimately integrate it into your life could play a pivotal role in emotional and psychological adaptation.

One surprising but potentially powerful tool in the process? Naming your stoma.

In a 2018 survey by ostomy care nurses Jane Cook and Jackie Hatton, 75% of respondents who named their stoma said it helped them cope with the aftermath of surgery. As one participant explained, naming their stoma helped it “become part of [them]”—less foreign, more personal.

In this way, naming may be an act of reclamation, a powerful gesture when you have a new body part stitched into place, a system rerouted and reimagined. New language—pancaking, flange, peristomal skin—comes with new routines and instructions. When so much is out of your control, naming your stoma might be one thing you get to choose. It’s one way to say: I didn’t choose all this, but I can choose how I meet it.

The role of humor and connection in adapting to ostomy life

Naming a stoma isn’t just about finding agency or control; it may also bring humor, creativity, and connection into an experience that is often heavy.

Many people with ostomies choose names that reflect the “personality” of their stoma. Maybe it’s Sassy Sasha, if it has a flair for dramatic entrances. Great Gassy, if it’s mysterious but persistent. Or Mildred, if it’s all business. With a name, suddenly the stoma isn’t just a surgical site. It’s Oscar, having a bad day and making sure everyone knows it. It’s Lola, the life of the party when you’re trying to focus. It’s Hank, sneaking up at the most inopportune moment. These names may transform the stoma from something clinical into something human, giving you language to talk about it, joke about it, even roll your eyes at it.

As playful as many stoma names are, it’s not just about cracking jokes for the sake of it. Research shows suggests that humor may be a valuable coping strategy for some people with ostomies, helping to promote acceptance and psychological resilience. With a little wit, the stoma may shift from a source of shame or discomfort into a character in the story of healing: sometimes annoying, sometimes funny, but no longer invisible or feared.

This reframe may also help break down the stigma surrounding ostomies by encouraging open communication. In one study, a survey participant shared how their family shouts, “Shut up, Lily!” when their stoma acts up, turning what might otherwise be an isolating experience into shared laughter. What once felt unspeakable becomes something everyone can talk about—a starting point for connection and support.

Respecting personal choice: Not everyone names their stoma

While naming a stoma can be a meaningful part of the healing process for some, it’s not for everyone—and that’s okay. Choosing not to name a stoma can be just as intentional as a name like Rosie or Winnie the “Poo.” In fact, some people with ostomies say that naming can create a sense of separation they don’t want. They don’t see their stoma as something “other,” something that needs to be softened or humanized. The stoma is simply “my stoma.” No need for nicknames or extra narrative—it just is.

Interestingly, for those who do choose to name their stoma, that relationship may change over time. Some ostomates who initially name their stoma eventually stop using the name. For them, what began as a coping mechanism may be less necessary as the stoma becomes just another part of their body. As the name fades, so does the need to frame the stoma as anything other than a part of moving forward.

Living with an ostomy: Your story, your terms

What naming offers isn’t a right or wrong way to “do” life with a stoma. It simply offers space for choice, connection, and self-expression. Some stoma names will stick. Others won’t. Some may only be whispered in private, while others are worn like a badge of resilience or pride.

What matters most isn’t whether you call your stoma Stanley or Scooby-Poo or nothing at all. It’s that you get to choose. That even after illness and surgery—even after everything—you get to choose how your story goes.

References

Cook, J., & Hatton, J. (2018). Giving a stoma a name: A mixed-methods study of naming habits and attitudes among ostomates. Gastrointestinal Nursing, 16(7). https://doi.org/10.12968/gasn.2018.16.7.28

Jayarajah, U., & Samarasekera, D. N. (2017). Psychological Adaptation to Alteration of Body Image among Stoma Patients: A Descriptive Study. Indian journal of psychological medicine, 39(1), 63–68. https://doi.org/10.4103/0253-7176.198944

Simpson, E., Pourshahidi, K., Davis, J., Slevin, M., Lawther, R., O’Connor, G., Porrett, T., Marley, J., & Gill, C. (2023). Living with and without an intestinal stoma: Factors that promote psychological well-being and self-care: A cross-sectional study. Nursing open, 10(12), 7811–7825. https://doi.org/10.1002/nop2.2030

 

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.

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.

 

From Pain to Purpose: How a Professional Pickleball Player Reclaimed His Life After Colostomy Surgery

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Rob Nunnery is returning to professional sports—and raising awareness about living fully with an ostomy.

When Rob Nunnery stepped onto the pickleball court for the first time post-surgery, it wasn’t just about hitting balls. It was about proving—to himself and others—that life after a colostomy isn’t just livable. It can be powerful.

The professional pickleball player and podcast host spent the better part of two years in unrelenting pain, battling what turned out to be severe perianal Crohn’s disease. It began in March 2022 with a painful abscess—but quickly spiraled into a complex web of fistulas, surgeries, and daily limitations.

“I tried to manage it for as long as I could,” Rob says. “But the pain never really left. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t train. I was just trying to survive.”

Through it all, Rob kept competing—and remarkably, he reached the #1 ranking in men’s doubles at points during both 2023 and 2024. But by early 2025, after five colorectal surgeries and years of pushing through chronic pain, Rob made a life-changing decision: he underwent a colostomy.

A New Chapter Begins

Rob had the surgery on February 20, 2025—a choice he once feared, but now credits with giving him his life back.

“I was scared. I had all the same questions and doubts,” he says. “But I reached a point where I had nothing left to prove to anyone—and everything to gain if I could just get out of pain.”

Just seven weeks post-op, Rob was preparing to return to competition. His first tournament back was the Dubai Open this May and despite it being a lot to manage physically he won in pro men’s doubles and got silver in pro mixed doubles! “I‘m proud that I went and even more proud of the result being my first tournament back,” Rob says.

Up next, you can follow his return to the Association of Pickleball Players’ APP Tour with the New York City Open May 20-25.

Rebuilding from scratch, this New York stop is where he won both men’s and mixed doubles two years earlier.

Breaking the Silence

For Rob, this comeback is about more than rankings. It’s about visibility and impact.

“I want to show that thriving with an ostomy is not just possible—it’s powerful.”

“There’s so much stigma around ostomies, especially in men and athletes,” he says. “I want to show people that you can still perform at the highest level. You can still live fully. You can still compete.”

He’s deeply aware that not everyone sees examples of active adults—let alone professional athletes—thriving with an ostomy. That’s why he’s choosing to speak out, and to live publicly in a way that helps others feel less alone.

Support and Strength

Rob credits his significant other, Malan Doty, as his rock throughout this entire journey.

“She’s been through it all with me. Every surgery, every setback, every painful day—she never left,” he says. “There’s no way I’d be here without her support.”

Now, Rob wants to be that kind of support for others—especially young people, men, and athletes facing ostomy surgery.

Rob was told of UOAA by his stoma nurse at the Mayo Clinic. “The (ostomy.org) website has been my go-to in terms of education and learning how to navigate having an ostomy from supplies to nutrition to exercise. The travel info was super helpful on my recent trip to compete too.”

Rob is thankful for the work UOAA does to support the ostomy community. “It has made a huge difference in my own journey.”

Rob Nunnery and Pro Mixed Doubles Partner Vivian Glozman | Photo by: Lucas Boland

More Than a Comeback

As Rob steps back onto the court, he’s not just chasing points. He’s showing that strength can look different than it used to—and that adapting is its own form of power.

“I want to show that thriving with an ostomy is not just possible—it’s powerful.”

Tips he’d give to other ostomates on being active? “Ease into it. Listen to your body, don’t try to do too much too soon. Going on walks was so grounding for me. I’m lucky to live close to a beach, so feet in the sand and having less pain during walks have been amazing. And good for me mentally too.” Rob shares.

“My colostomy gave me my life back. If I can help just one person stop feeling ashamed or afraid because of their bag, then all of this will have meant something more.”

You can follow Rob on (Instagram @robnunnery) and sign-up for his daily newsletter link at (read.robnunnery.com)

You can also see Rob at UOAA’s 2025 National Conference where he will be a co-speaker for a session entitled Health, Fitness and Active Living on Saturday, August 16 in Orlando, Florida.