My stoma saved my life: Bryony Gray’s Stoma Story

06 January, 2026

My biggest problem was that I hated what I saw when I looked in the mirror, I hated the bag, I hated my body, but most of all I hated me. I never wanted sympathy; I just wanted someone to understand. After some counselling, I was told to name my Stoma so that when problems happen, I was blaming something other than myself, this has really helped me over the years, and 12 years on me and ‘Squirt’ are now best friends.

Living with ulcerative colitis from the age of 17 hasn’t been easy. Neither has having six operations, living with a stoma, or having a “Barbie bum”. For most of my journey, I had nobody – except my mum. If sharing my experience helps even one person feel less alone in the crazy IBD journey that can take over our lives, then that makes me a very happy lady.

Diagnosed at 17: A Life Changed Overnight

At 17, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. Unbeknown to me, I had just signed up for a lifetime of hospital visits, admissions, medication trials, intravenous drips, and numerous surgeries – all in the hope of improving my quality of life and trying to treat a very cruel, often unheard-of disease that I was diagnosed with so young.

As the years went on, my life became a living nightmare. Every trip out had to be planned around toilet access. I was going to the loo over 30 times a day. The pain was excruciating. I was thin, weak, exhausted, and constantly passing blood and mucus. Most of the time I couldn’t hold it, and I would soil myself in public.

At 25, ulcerative colitis nearly killed me. I needed emergency surgery and woke up in ICU without my large bowel – and with a stoma bag.

Six Surgeries, One New Life

Over the last 10 years, I’ve had six major surgeries. Today, I live with a permanent ileostomy and a “Barbie bum”.

There were some incredibly dark times. I lost my appetite and became very thin and frail. But my biggest struggle wasn’t just physical – it was emotional. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I hated the bag. I hated my body. And, most of all, I hated me.

I never wanted sympathy. I just wanted someone to understand.

Through counselling, I was encouraged to name my stoma, so that when things went wrong, I could blame something other than myself. It might sound small, but it made a huge difference. Twelve years on, me and “Squirt” are best friends.

From Shame to Celebration

My stoma saved my life.

So I don’t just accept it – I embrace it. More than that, I celebrate it, because it gave me my life back. Stomas aren’t shameful; they’re survival. Just like my scars, they simply mean that I survived whatever tried to hurt me.

I will always show the world what real strength and survival look like – because why the hell not? My stoma is the reason I am alive, and I refuse to shrink myself for people who don’t understand, just to make them feel comfortable.

A Message to others

Your stoma bag does not make you any less.
You are still worthy.
Still beautiful.
Still enough – exactly as you are.

We offer a wide range of support for people living with a colostomy, including our free Stoma Helpline, live chat support, and opportunities to connect with others through local and online groups. We also provide trusted information and resources to offer practical advice, reassurance, and the confidence to live well with a stoma: colostomyuk.org/support

Read another article on body image: colostomyuk.org/body-image-and-my-stoma