Going Out with IBD and an Ostomy: Finding Confidence Through Solo Activities

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Before my Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD) diagnosis at age 17, I always wanted to go to live events: concerts, listening parties, book signings, etc. But as a teen, I knew I held myself back. I didn’t want to look silly by showing up alone, and I’m extremely socially awkward. What if I say the wrong things? Even putting myself back in the thought process makes my skin crawl.

Post-diagnosis and at the beginning of my ostomy surgery process, some of my medical trauma began to manifest as not wanting to be alone. Combined with the social discomfort that fluctuates with an ostomy, like apprehension around leaks, clogged filters, and farts, I created the perfect recipe for opting out of things if I didn’t have a companion.

The summer of 2022 changed things.

I remember being extremely low mentally, in pain, and constantly in and out of the hospital due to a fistula that my doctors hadn’t been able to detect on scans. In that period of isolation, rumination, and reflection, I made a promise to myself that if I ever felt better, I’d take advantage of it and figure out ways to do the things I’ve always wanted to do.

When I was finally healed and ready, I was excited to enjoy some live events, but that didn’t stop the fear and anxiety.

What if I had an emergency? What if I didn’t bring enough ostomy supplies? What if I couldn’t contact my family if I needed them?

I wanted to be safe and really listen to my body. I knew the only way I’d enjoy the experience was if I felt safe and prepared.

Here are some things I find myself consistently doing before, during, and after events that increase my comfort.

My Top Tips for Going Out with IBD or an Ostomy

1. Plan Ahead & Ask Questions

Before making any plans, I have conversations with my medical team and family. Often, they give me insight, reassure me I am physically ok to do certain things, and help me find out more information.

  • ADA Accommodations: I reach out to venues & organizers for ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) accommodations to have plans & contacts in place if I’m not feeling the best.
    • ADA accommodations can look like:
      • Medical/bigger bag allowance
      • Safe snacks & water from home
      • Priority access to seated spaces
      • Chairs while waiting in line
      • & more! I’m still discovering them myself!
  • Safe Foods: I look into food venues and menus to make sure there are safe options for my IBD and ostomy-friendly eats.
    • To avoid gas/cramping/bloating, I generally don’t eat lots of candy, fried/breaded foods, and carbonated beverages.
    • Raw fruits, veggies, popcorn & nuts, if it’s during the morning & I’m not returning home/to my hotel for an extended period.
    • I don’t consume alcohol at all.
  • Bathroom Access: You can map out restrooms when you get to the venue, but if you can find a venue map online, bathrooms should be listed! Having an official bathroom access card from an IBD or ostomy organization like UOAA is helpful, too!

It’s also always nice to have names to reference staff members you’ve been in communication with, especially to build relationships if this is a place you’ll be frequenting. Repeating this process helped build the foundation of my concert review series on social media!

2. Bring What You Need 

I’ve made several videos documenting what I keep in my concert bag, but I’m never leaving without:

  • Supplies to do at least one ostomy bag change, including a fresh pouch, a barrier, adhesive remover spray, and deodorant
  • Hydration drops
  • Pill container
  • Portable charger
  • Wireless earbuds

The earbuds may seem a little odd because they’re not medically related, but in a crowded, noisy area, or if your hands are full, it’s always nice to just pop an earbud in to make a call. Depending on the temperature and venue rules, I also alternate between a handheld fan and hand warmers.

3. Listen To Your Body

For me, having an ostomy didn’t completely resolve my symptoms or “cure” my IBD. While I completely support research that recommends surgeries that may leave patients with a temporary ostomy and increase remission outcomes, I don’t support surgery being described as “the cure.”

Extraintestinal manifestations or “non-gut related symptoms” can still occur, most of which I’m still managing with a combination of medications and mental and physical therapies.

Fatigue, joint aches, dehydration, etc., are all common with IBD, and I’ve learned that a lot of the “prep” happens long before you decide to go somewhere.

  • Dehydration: Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. I know it’s annoying to hear it, but I always feel better if I’m properly hydrated.
  • Joint Aches: If there’s prolonged standing, walking, or sitting, I’m usually opting for some type of compression support on my hands, legs, and arches of my feet to combat any swelling or irritation.
  • Fatigue: Getting enough rest before and after solo activities helps with recovery! Generally, I’m taking things slow 1-2 days before and after each event to support my body as much as possible.

These tips are general, but they aren’t one-size-fits-all. Tweak things to your personal needs and don’t feel bad if you make a few mistakes along the way; you’re human! You should always consult your doctors if you have any questions about anything that could affect your treatment or health.

Embracing solo activities isn’t about being alone constantly. Years into this process, I’ve met some of the coolest people during my solo adventures, and I’m so thankful that I’m working towards being comfortable with just myself.

Having self-confidence that helps strengthen this type of exploration still doesn’t always come naturally to me as someone with IBD and a permanent ostomy, but I feel a lot better knowing I’m prepared!

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

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.

Smashing Cancer and Stoma Stigma

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By Kevin Smets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the journey didn’t stop there.

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

So I made it my mission to smash that stigma.

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

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

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

———

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

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

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By Michael Ashley Turner

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

photo credit Jermaine & Catrone Turner of Jpixstudios

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

photo credit Jermaine & Catrone Turner of Jpixstudios

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10 Tips for Intimacy with an Ostomy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  1. Phrasing is important. Confidence is everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  1. Communication is key.

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

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

  1. Prep is not unsexy.

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

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

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

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

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

  1. Desire without shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

Finding Your Way: The Journey Forward with an Ostomy

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By Ted Leamy

This piece is adapted from my closing talk at the 2025 UOAA Conference held in Orlando Florida. Think of it as a last walk around the conference neighborhood before we all went home — with a few of my own observations.

I’m Ted. I’ve been living with an ostomy 43 years. I work in live production events — sound engineering & sound design for concerts and large sporting venues. My career has taken me all over the country and around the world.

At the start of the conference, I talked about how much it means to keep moving forward — even when the rules of the game seem to have changed. How our stomas are not just physical. They change how we see ourselves. Our sense of Self.

Having an ostomy doesn’t disqualify you from much. It demands a different kind of presence to lead the life you want. And that’s what I think we’ve all seen this week in the sessions and in conversations.

For me, the heartbeat of this conference is in the quiet moments — in the hallways, at breakfast, sitting in the lounge between presentations. That’s where appreciation happens — not just of new facts, but of each other.

Body Literacy

Many people get to move through their day without thinking much about their body — grab coffee, rush to work, sit in meetings. That seems normal if your body is working fine. We ostomates don’t get that option.

With an ostomy, you’re pulled into your body constantly. You are checking, you are aware. You know exactly what you ate recently.

This is sometimes referred to as ‘body literacy’ – the ability to read your own body’s signals and patterns. It’s a skill that gets better with practice. You learn to recognize subtle signs before they turn into problems. You understand your personal normal.

Medical stability is the foundation everything else builds on. Without it, you’re just trying to survive. With it, you can start thinking about what comes next.

I used to think this constant awareness was just another burden. Needless to say, I wrong. Now I think body literacy is one of my most valuable life skills. I notice things now I would have missed before… the taste of good coffee, a great conversation, the feeling of a successful day where everything just worked.

Presence and Appreciation

When you have experienced uncertainty through the lens that we have, you gain appreciation for ordinary moments. Not because you’re trying to be grateful – because you actually are.

People talk about mindfulness like it’s something you have to work toward. For us, it’s just another day. We live it by necessity, not by choice. No expensive spiritual retreat with gurus required.

This kind of presence can get exhausting at times, even border on hyper-vigilance. But kept under control, that presence is valuable body literacy — lessons we can transfer to all aspects of our lives.

For me: it has made me feel more alive. When asked what it’s like living with an ostomy for forty years, part of what I say is it taught me how to be present in my life instead of just racing quickly through it.

Three Stages of the Ostomy Journey

Over time I’ve noticed the journey with an ostomy isn’t one continuous road. It shifts, and it has stages. Understanding where you are in these stages can help make sense of current challenges and hint at what might be next in life.

I think of it as three stages:

1. Getting medically stable
2. Becoming functionally independent
3. Learning to flourish and thrive

First things first. You can’t do much until you’re medically stable. This is about listening carefully to your doctors, managing complications, or recovering from a procedure.

When leaving the hospital after one of my surgeries, when asked how I was feeling, I would joke: “I’m upright, I’ve got pants on, and I’m taking nourishment by mouth.”

That was my humorous way of saying I was medically stable. On my way home.

Medical stability is the foundation everything else builds on. Without it, you’re just trying to survive. With it, you can start thinking about what comes next.

Wanting to flourish is being human. It’s honoring the life you were given by actually living it fully.

Becoming functional is about being proficient in looking after your stoma and appliance. It’s creating a new daily routine that includes all your other hygiene and ‘get ready’ rituals. Getting comfortable in this whole new world.

When you are functional, you become grateful. Functional is a big deal! You can leave the house without mapping every bathroom. You can eat dinner with friends. You can sleep through the night with minimal interruptions.

But here’s what happens sometimes. You get functional, and it feels so secure that you lock yourself in. You find your safe foods, your reliable routines, your predictable schedule. Too predictable?

The problem is when functional becomes your ceiling instead of your floor. Does this make sense? Have you been there? I have. Most of us have, I think.

Flourish and Thrive

Let’s talk about moving from functional (stage 2) to flourishing (stage 3).

Flourishing is what you want out of your life — not in spite of your ostomy but in fact because of your ostomy and the life-saving consequences that got you this far.

Flourishing is when you stop asking “Can I do this with my ostomy?” and start asking “Do I want to do this?”

It’s when your ostomy becomes just one part of your life, not the organizing principle of your existence. It’s when you stop apologizing for your limitations and start celebrating your capabilities. It’s when you stop planning around your ostomy – and start planning around what you want out of life.

Sounds easier than it is to do! When we get functional, there are loud applause from friends, family, and doctors. We too are excited. Except we are people. And just being stable, then functional, is not enough. We want to thrive and flourish and become the person we imagine ourselves being.  That’s where the gap shows up — the space between functional and flourishing.

Mind the Gap

There is a gap between being functional and flourishing. We can be so pleased with being functional that we decide to stay in that mode — never pushing forward, never trying new things, never creating new adventures that self-doubt warns against.

Sometimes we get lost in that gap. You’re no longer a patient, but you’re not quite thriving either. It’s easy to feel disoriented, questioning if wanting more is worth the risk.

If we want more, are we ungrateful for what we have? Deep question. I say no.

Thriving is the aspiration. However it looks for each of us, that’s the direction forward.

Being grateful for your medical stability and functional independence doesn’t mean you have to stop there. You can be thankful for what you’ve achieved AND still want to grow, explore, and push your boundaries.

Wanting to flourish is being human. It’s honoring the life you were given by actually living it fully.

The ostomy journey is not a straight line. Circumstances will sometimes force you backward. What matters is finding your way back — regaining functionality, and taking that leap of faith toward flourishing again.

Inspiration Without Comparison

It’s things like this conference that show us what life could look like. Encourages us to keep moving forward. Whatever stage of the journey you find yourself.

When you see someone else thriving — really thriving — it expands your sense of what’s possible for yourself. But careful about comparing. We are all on a unique journey, each of us at different stages — not just in our ostomy journey but in our life journey.

The 19th century playwright Oscar Wilde said: “Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.”

Closing Reflections

Each of us knows our own life better than anyone else.  We’ve already been carrying our courage forward every day — showing up here only made it more visible. That same courage is what lets us reach for more. Thriving is the aspiration. However it looks for each of us, that’s the direction forward. And whatever tomorrow brings, we already carry what it takes to keep moving toward it.  Thanks for spending time with me.

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

 

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.