Finding Your Way: The Journey Forward with an Ostomy

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.