Bag and Paddle: A Journey Through Ostomy and Resilience

I sat down with Ella Cosma, a remarkable 15-year-old pro pickleball player. She made history as the Junior PPA tour's first female Triple Crown winner. Ella had an ostomy as a child, which she had reversed after 18 months.

I have one now. Mine might be permanent.

We talked for two hours about things people don’t usually say out loud. Bag explosions. Prolapses. Sugar. Shame. Self-advocacy when you're 12 and confused. And what it feels like when your small intestine decides to stick out further than it should while you’re at school.

This is the first episode of Bag and Paddle. It’s a show about competing, traveling, and living life as an athlete when your body doesn’t always cooperate.

This is why it exists.

The Power of Connection

The most valuable part of my conversation with Ella was sharing our lived experiences.

She had never talked to anyone with an ostomy before. I could see it meant a lot to her. It’s isolating to deal with this condition. I can’t imagine facing it in elementary school. Sure, she has her parents supporting her, but when you’re sitting in class, you’re navigating it alone.

For her, it was important to talk about what it’s like with someone who understands.

It’s hard to express the significance of connecting with someone who shares your struggles.

Especially with Crohn’s. Especially with an ostomy. It can feel like a lonely existence. Even if you have support, they don’t experience it the same way. They don’t understand the body changes, the insecurities, or the mental load of managing it.

You might have people cheering you on. Their support is crucial. But there’s something special about talking to someone who truly gets it.

When a leak happens, or when she was jump roping and it plopped down in the middle of class. Or when I had an explosion in the bathroom at a coffee shop.

You can share that story with someone, and they’ll say, “Wow, that’s tough.”

But when you share it with someone who’s been there, it creates a bond that’s hard to replicate.

You just feel less alone.

Learning Self-Advocacy Early

Ella shared her experience of spending hours in the ER, where doctors kept changing their plans. Nurses praised her for advocating for herself while she was crying and confused.

I found it inspiring that she learned self-advocacy at such a young age.

I didn’t realize you had to advocate for your health. I thought you just got sick, went to the doctor, and they fixed you. I didn’t know you had to fight for them to take you seriously or to consider different perspectives.

It’s a bit sad that it’s this way. That’s why self-education is vital when dealing with health issues. The more you understand your body, the better equipped you are to advocate for yourself.

Ella knew that at just 12 years old.

I’m 40 and still figuring it out.

The Absurd Medical Realities

Ella told me about pouring sugar on a prolapsed stoma to get it back in. Sometimes it took 45 minutes. Once, it took six hours.

Her mom would come to school asking teachers for sugar. They’d offer granola bars instead.

This highlights how unique our situations are. People won’t know how to handle your small intestine sticking out of your stomach. Teachers want to help, but they don’t know what to do.

Before I got my ostomy at 39, I had never met anyone with one. I lived my entire life without knowing anyone who had one.

It’s not common to encounter people with ostomies in school or at work. I think it’s a matter of education. The more we talk about these issues, the more comfortable we become.

Judging Others at an Ostomy Conference

I attended an ostomy conference and caught myself judging others with bags at the pool.

There’s a stigma around it, even for me. It revealed my own insecurities. I wasn’t okay with it.

Looking back, I admire those people. They’re heroes. None of us chose this path.

The fact that I felt that way, even with a bag, shows how much work we have to do in de-stigmatizing this condition. It’s disheartening to realize that I still held those judgments.

I feel ashamed and embarrassed about my initial reaction.

That’s hard for me to reconcile.

The Coffee Shop Catastrophe

I switched from two-piece to one-piece bags after two catastrophic failures.

One happened at home on the couch. The other was at a coffee shop, where I ended up covered head to toe.

At the coffee shop, I wore a belt with a zipper at the top, not at the bottom where you empty the bag. The failure occurred when I unzipped it at the top, where the connection is. My bag was already full. When I tried to lift it out of the pocket to empty it, the two-piece connection came undone.

It went everywhere.

I panicked. I scrambled to clean myself up and the floor. It was an absolute mess because my bag was completely full. It was liquidy, making it even harder to clean.

It was incredibly embarrassing to walk out of the bathroom into a public space, hoping nobody noticed.

It’s a strange feeling to be 40 years old and not feel in control of your bodily functions.

It’s humbling.

Why Share These Conversations?

Talking to others with ostomies who manage chronic illness makes me feel less isolated.

These conversations are therapeutic for me.

If I can record these discussions and share them with the world, why wouldn’t I?

According to recent data, 19.8 million people played pickleball in the US in 2024. That’s a 45.8% increase from 2023. It’s the fourth consecutive year as America’s fastest-growing sport.

But how many of those players are competing with an ostomy? With chronic illness? With bodies that don’t always cooperate?

Professional athletes are thriving with ostomies. I returned to pro pickleball post-surgery. Olympic gold medalist Jearl Miles-Clark won more medals after her surgery. Collin Jarvis ran a sub-2:30 marathon with an ostomy.

Yet, there’s so much stigma around ostomies, especially among athletes. Not everyone sees examples of active adults thriving with an ostomy, let alone professional athletes.

I want to help someone feel less alone. By sharing my story, I also find comfort in knowing I’m not alone.

Learning from Ella's Journey

Ella’s ostomy is reversed. Mine might be permanent.

I’m genuinely happy for Ella. She navigated her ostomy, got it reversed, and now lives an anatomically normal life. I know she still faces challenges, like constipation and build-up.

But I hope her experience shows her that she can handle it again if needed. She’s better equipped now.

For me, I’m okay with whatever gives people a better life.

Having a bag means a better life for me, given my perianal fistulizing disease. The thought of going to the bathroom through my bottom is terrifying. Going through my bag with no pain? I’ll take that any day.

The pain I experienced when going through my bottom was unbearable. I can’t go back to that.

Sharing Mortifying Moments

I’ve faced some of the worst moments: bag explosions, public failures, and medical trauma.

It’s isolating. I don’t want to keep it to myself.

If sharing my experiences can help even one person manage their journey a little better, that’s why we’re here. To share our stories in hopes of making someone else’s journey easier.

I want to help someone feel less alone.

By doing that, I also find a sense of connection.

What This Show Represents

Bag and Paddle is about competing, traveling, and living life as an athlete when your body doesn’t always cooperate.

The name represents a few things: a pickleball paddle, a travel bag, and for me, an ostomy bag.

This first episode with Ella took unexpected turns. We discussed sports, chronic illness, stomas, reversals, doctors, hydration, embarrassment, resilience, and topics people don’t usually voice.

This is the full story of why this show exists.

Because isolation is heavy. Connection is lighter.

And sometimes, you need to hear from someone who truly understands.