The Stoma Accountant

19/05/2026

You can look completely fine… and still be mentally planning your escape route.
That’s the bit people don’t always understand about IBD.

Someone might see you sitting in a café, walking into work, turning up to plans, smiling in a photo, or saying “I’m okay.”
But they don’t see what’s happening in your head.

Where’s the nearest toilet?
How long can I stay here?
What if urgency hits suddenly?
What if I don’t make it?
How do I leave without making it obvious?

That constant background noise is exhausting.
And when you live with Crohn’s, Ulcerative colitis, or any form of IBD, it isn’t just “going to the toilet more.”
It can affect your confidence, your freedom, your relationships, your mental health, your work life, and the way you feel in your own body.

That’s why World IBD Day matters.
Because so much of this illness happens quietly.

Behind normal faces.
Behind cancelled plans.
Behind “I’m fine.”
Behind people who are just trying to get through the day without their body taking over.

So if you’re living with IBD and you’ve ever felt like nobody really sees what it takes just to function — I see you.

And if you don’t live with it, please take a moment to listen.

Awareness isn’t just about knowing the name of the condition.

It’s about understanding the reality behind it. 💜
Save this if it puts words to something you’ve felt.

Share it if someone needs to understand IBD beyond the surface.

19/05/2026

Over 500,000 people in the UK are living with Crohn’s or Colitis.

But IBD is still massively misunderstood.

People hear “bowel disease” and assume it just means going to the toilet more.

It doesn’t.

It can take over your confidence, your social life, your work, your relationships, your mental health, and your ability to feel safe in your own body.

It’s the urgency you can’t explain. The anxiety before leaving the house. The constant checking for toilets. The cancelled plans. The exhaustion of pretending you’re fine when everything inside you feels out of control.

And the hardest part is that most of it happens quietly.

You can be sitting in public, looking completely normal, while mentally working out where the nearest toilet is, how quickly you could leave, and whether you’re going to make it through the next hour without something going wrong.

That’s the side of ulcerative colitis people don’t always see.

And that’s exactly why I’m talking about it properly.

This World IBD Day, I’m using the moment to relaunch my blog — The Stoma Accountant — where I’ll be sharing my real story of living with UC, losing control, hospital admissions, and eventually getting a stoma.

Then from 1st June, I’ll be posting a 30-day series about what living with ulcerative colitis was actually like.

Not the polished version.

The real one.

If you live with IBD, Crohn’s, colitis, a stoma, or any invisible illness, I hope this makes you feel a little less alone.

And if you don’t live with it, please stick around.

Because understanding starts with listening.

Read the blog, follow the June series, and share this with someone who needs to understand what IBD really feels like.

29/03/2026

“I need some advice… I’m really struggling with this.”

A couple of weeks ago I was back at Torbay Hospital seeing my consultant for the first time in 2 years.

My stoma has honestly given me my life back… but there’s still something going on behind the scenes.
My re**al stump is badly inflamed from diverted colitis and it’s bleeding every day.

If I’m honest, I’ve just been getting on with it. Compared to what I went through before surgery, this felt like nothing. So I’ve just dealt with it and carried on.

But my consultant wasn’t happy with that.

Because of how inflamed it is, there’s a higher risk long term and it’ll likely need removing at some point. That decision comes later… but right now it’s about trying to calm it down.

I’ve been put back on meds I used to take before surgery… and I thought I’d handle them fine.

But this time it’s different.
The foam is unbearable. The pain is instant and my body just rejects it within seconds.
The suppositories stay in, but they’re still painful and leave me sore all day.

And mentally… it’s hit me more than I expected.

It feels like I’ve been pulled back into a fight I already fought so hard to get out of. Back to battling my own body again. Back to relying on meds and hoping they work so I don’t end up needing more surgery.

I’m tired if I’m honest. Properly drained.

I know I’m not the only one who’s been through this, so I’m reaching out…

Has anyone else dealt with this?
Does it get easier?
Do these meds actually start working after a while?

I think right now I just need someone to tell me…
it’s going to be alright. 🙏💜

07/03/2026

Saying goodbye to the warrior who fought the war

You wake up and expect this new world to now unfold in front of you, but unfortunately, life isn't that simple.

Your life before was relentless; it was a constant battle with an invisible disease that you knew was destroying you from the inside out, but you fought it with all your might, day in, day out, sometimes with no respite.
Now, there is nothing.

The void that now presents itself to you needs to be filled with something, but because of the trauma you have faced previously, you don't trust the silence.

It's not as easy as it may be perceived on social media: one day sick, the next day surgery, then the next day fixed. You have to discover the new you, but before you can do that, you have to let go of the person who you were before because allthough he still resides in your memories, you are not that person anymore.

The problems that you may now face will hopefully be minute compared to how they were before. You have a chance to now be that normal person that you would see from the darkness.

Embrace the change and discover yourself.

25/02/2026

I never thought I’d be talking about my stoma on national TV… but here we are.
If this helps even one person feel less alone, then it’s been worth it.
This bag saved my life — and it shouldn’t be something we whisper about.
Really proud to have shared my story on ITV.

24/02/2026

I never thought I’d be talking about my stoma on national TV… but here we are.

If this helps even one person feel less alone, then it’s been worth it.

This bag saved my life — and it shouldn’t be something we whisper about.

Really proud to have shared my story on ITV.


StomaCommunity
RealLife DisabilityVisibility ITV

07/02/2026

Normalising stomas, one post at a time.

This bag gave me my freedom back — and now I use that freedom to talk openly, honestly, and unapologetically about stoma life.

If you’re here because you’ve got one, might get one, or love someone who does — welcome 🤍

10/01/2026

Toby, my daughter’s partner, and his dad Nigel are taking on an incredible challenge this April — cycling 340 miles over FIVE days from Exeter to Blackpool to raise money for Exeter City Supporters’ Trust and The Adam Stansfield Foundation

Calling all Exeter City fans — and football fans in general — any support would be hugely appreciated, whether that’s donating or sharing to spread the word.

🚴 Father and Son Nigel and Toby will be embarking on an incredible cycling challenge in April!

They will be cycling the mammoth FIVE day, 340 mile journey from Exeter to Blackpool, raising money for Exeter City Supporters' Trust and The Adam Stansfield Foundation 👏

🔗 Full story ➡️ exetercityfc.co.uk/CyclingFundraiser
🔗 Donate ➡️ gofund.me/6adf82611

31/12/2025

It’s that time of year again — when we all reflect on what we’ve achieved during another spin around the sun.
For me, it’s never just about the last year. It’s about the time that was taken from me… seven long years lost to severe ulcerative colitis.

An autoimmune disease that slowly destroyed my colon.
Countless hospital visits.
More colonoscopies than I can count.
Hours upon hours lying curled up in excruciating pain… and far too many spent sitting on toilets, praying for relief.

That chapter of my life was hell — and I’m grateful it’s now only a reflection, not my reality.

The embarrassment of uncontrollably soiling yourself.
Walking the dog while mentally mapping out places you could run to if you didn’t make it home.
Feeling like you’re letting everyone down — unable to be the dad, the partner, the man you desperately wanted to be.
Watching your loved ones worry while you silently felt like a burden.

I don’t dwell on that past life very often, but I allow myself to remember it — because it reminds me just how far I’ve come.

Five whole years with a stoma.
Five years of minimal symptoms.
Five years of getting my life back.

My stoma didn’t take something from me — it gave me everything back.
It gave me normality.
It gave me strength.
It helped shape me into the man I am today.

And for that, I will always be grateful. ❤️

10/12/2025