Oscar the Ostomy and the Year that Changed Me

“First day jitters”—everyone gets them. I thought that’s all I had on my first day of middle school. Turns out, I was completely wrong. That day, I had the worst stomachache of my life. I assumed it was nerves. It wasn’t. It was appendicitis.

After a few days of worsening pain, my parents took me to the doctor. Bloodwork suggested appendicitis, so we rushed to the ER. An MRI confirmed it, and soon I was in an ambulance headed to Children’s Hospital Colorado, Colorado Springs.

I spent the night in the hospital, then another ambulance ride took me to Aurora for a drain placement. I’d been in pain for so long that I just wanted relief. The nurses there—Emma and Brandon—were incredible. They made the worst moments bearable with kindness and humor.

The drain hurt, but the worst part was the nasogastric (NG) tube. When they finally removed it, I could eat again—just in time for my 12th birthday! I hadn’t eaten since the first day of school, so sushi never tasted so good.

I went home with the drain and a PICC line for IV antibiotics. The plan was to heal enough for a safe appendectomy later. Things were going well—until they weren’t. A few days later, I had excruciating back pain. Back to the ER. Emergency surgery.

Waking up after that surgery is a blur. I felt like Pinocchio—a puppet attached to strings—except for I had tubes instead. A week later, the pain returned. My intestines were too damaged and needed repairs. Another surgery. This time, I began to heal.

This is when I got my ostomy. I named him “Oscar the Grouch in an Ostomy Pouch,” because he stank, and the pouch was gross like a trash can. You’d think waking up with an ostomy would be awful, but it wasn’t. The diet restrictions were worse! I dreamed of food and blue fruit punch. Dr. Bealer made deals with me: walk laps, earn treats. I complained about those laps, but honestly, it was fun negotiating with him.

One of my favorite parts? Naming my get-well gifts after the amazing staff. Their names are on their tags, so I’ll never forget who helped me through this.

After weeks in the hospital, I finally went home. Then came December 7—a day that lives in infamy as Pearl Harbor Day—and the day of my last surgery. Dr. B took out my ostomy. Weirdly, I was sad to see Oscar go. He had become part of my journey.

For that final surgery, I walked myself to the operating room. Seconds later, I woke up. Now, I’m completely back to normal—like nothing ever happened.

Through nose tubes, wound vacs, PICC lines, and surgeries, my care team helped me laugh through it all. Today, because of all that I’ve experienced, I’m in the biomedical pathway at my high school and part of Health Occupations Students of America (HOSA).

Sometimes, one painful stomachache can change your life.