Ten Years Cancer Free. Ten Years With an Ostomy. A Life Fully Lived.

There are moments in life that quietly divide everything into before and after. Ten years ago was one of those moments for me. I went into surgery and woke up with an ostomy. I also woke up cancer free. At the time, I did not yet have the language or perspective to understand how much those two realities would shape the rest of my life.

I remember lying there, still groggy, trying to make sense of what had happened. Relief and grief existed side by side. Gratitude for my life and fear for what it would now look like lived in the same breath. I did not know what the future held. I only knew that my body had saved my life, even if it no longer looked the way I expected it to.

I had no roadmap for what came next. I had questions I did not know how to ask yet. Would I travel again? Would I feel confident in my body? Would I ever stop thinking about my ostomy every minute of the day? Would my life shrink, or could it somehow expand?

Ten years later, I can say this with certainty. Life did not get smaller. It got fuller.

In the early days, everything was about survival. Learning how to change my bag. Understanding my body’s new rhythms. Navigating social situations that suddenly felt unfamiliar. There were moments of frustration, moments of embarrassment, and moments where I wondered if I would ever feel like myself again.

But slowly, something shifted. Survival turned into living. Fear turned into familiarity. And the body I once felt disconnected from became a body I learned to trust again.

Just two weeks after surgery, something inside me said to share my story. I went live on Facebook and told people what had happened to me. I talked about waking up with an ostomy. I talked about fear and gratitude existing at the same time. And I said something that would end up shaping the next decade of my life. We need to love our bodies no matter what.

At the time, I had no idea who was watching or how far those words would travel. I only knew that telling the truth felt important.

Not long after that, I was back on a plane. I flew to California for work with Tyra Beauty just one week after surgery. Looking back, that moment still surprises me. I was still healing. I was still learning. I did not have everything figured out. But I trusted myself enough to go. That trip became one of the first moments I realized that my life was not over. It was continuing, just in a new way.

As the years went on, my confidence grew alongside my willingness to say yes to life. A few years later, John and I made a decision that still makes me smile. We looked at each other and said, let’s grab life by the you know what. We moved to New York City and lived there for three years. We walked everywhere. We immersed ourselves in the city. We lived boldly and fully. That chapter of our life was rich, vibrant, and unforgettable.

Living with an ostomy did not keep me from taking risks. It did not keep me from adventure. It did not keep me from building a life I loved. It became part of the story that shaped how deeply I lived it.

Along the way, something else was growing too. Advocacy. Connection. Community. Through sharing my journey, I began meeting people who understood without explanation. People who were newly diagnosed. People who had lived with an ostomy for decades. People who reminded me that none of us are meant to walk this road alone.

Over time, that advocacy led me to build a relationship with Hollister. What started as conversations slowly turned into trust, collaboration, and a partnership I have been cultivating for five to six years now. Working alongside a company that truly listens to the ostomy community and cares about improving quality of life has been deeply meaningful to me. It allowed me to amplify voices, share stories, and help others feel seen and supported.

Ten years with an ostomy has taught me patience with my body. It has taught me how to listen. It has taught me how to adapt without losing myself. There were hard moments. Accidents. Travel mishaps. Days where my body felt unpredictable. But there were also moments of pride, joy, laughter, and deep gratitude.

Today, when I look back, I do not see a life defined by limitation. I see a life defined by courage. I see growth. I see resilience, even if that word feels too small to capture the reality of this journey. I see a woman who learned that confidence is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to keep living anyway.

If you are new to life with an ostomy, I want you to know this. It gets easier. You will find your rhythm. You will trust yourself again. Your life is not over. It is unfolding.

If you have been on this journey for years, I hope you pause today and acknowledge how far you have come. Your body has carried you through more than most people will ever understand. It deserves gratitude.

Ten years ago, I was focused on surviving. Today, I am focused on living fully. And my hope is that my story reminds you that a full, beautiful, expansive life is possible.

Thank you for being part of this community. Walking this road with you has been one of the greatest honors of my life.

Love

LA