At 19 years old, I started viewing myself as an unlucky person. I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, which is a chronic inflammatory disease. “Chronic” means it is for life. I was pretty optimistic because I didn’t have colon or rectum cancer (which I thought it was because of what I saw on the internet) and I believed every medication would make my disease go into remission. I underwent surgery eight months after receiving my diagnosis. Those were eight horrible months where medication only ruined my self-esteem by giving me big fat cheeks. I was sleeping 14 hours a day, was extremely tired, lost a lot of weight, could only eat Ensure, had cramps in the lower abdomen, and lost blood. My quality of life dropped, and I had to wear incontinence briefs too. I am sparing you the worst details… Those were eight horrible months. 

One day I called my mom and told her about undergoing surgery and getting a pouch. This surgery that I refused to get when I received my diagnosis was now my solution… Maybe the surgery would put an end to my physical and psychological pain. My mom still had hope, so she was against it. Then, one morning, the cramps were unbearable. I went to the hospital, as I had no options left. Doctors told me they would perform surgery the next day, because they were afraid my intestines would perforate in my stomach, and I would still undergo surgery in that case.

I chose to undergo surgery because I had so many options left (I’m being sarcastic). I went back home after spending two weeks in the hospital where I was showered with love and support. I was done surviving; I was finally going to start living! I didn’t have trouble adapting to the physical side of it, and I was able to train and go out again. The psychological side of it was more difficult. Even though I could see the difference between this and my life before surgery, and even though I was thinking about travelling again, I still thought it wasn’t fair, and that it was kind of the end of the world. But it was actually the start of a new adventure with Ti-Babe (the affectionate name I gave to my stoma). This new adventure was full of ordeals, like a second surgery and chronic pancreatitis. But today, I think I recovered my good health and my well-being.

After consideration I think I was unlucky, having to go through all this. But I was also lucky. I’m not different because I have a pouch on my stomach, I am different because of everything I learned from this. I redefined my values, I grew, I learned to live better, to appreciate myself better, and more importantly, to love myself. In the end, Ti-Babe is like… a breath of fresh air. 

Stéphanie