For Veronica, care hasn’t been a straight line. It has been a mix of surgeries, medical devices, exhaustion, resilience, and surprising moments of self-trust. Like so many people navigating chronic illness, she had to rebuild a life she never asked for — one decision, one bag change, one day at a time. Her journey is emotional, vulnerable, and deeply human, reminding others facing similar challenges that they’re never alone.
Continue reading to learn more about the turning points, setbacks, and quiet victories that shaped Veronica’s path toward confidence, independence, and hope.
The Turning Point: Learning to Trust Myself
The moment that felt turning point for me is when I first learned how to change my ostomy bag and do my IV fluids all on my own. I realized I can do it on my own and it’s not this horrible thing.
That new independence didn’t happen overnight — it came with trial, fear, and repetition. But once I realized I was capable, something shifted. It became a reminder that adapting doesn’t make you weak, it proves how strong you already are.
A Moment of Dismissal That Changed Everything
One memory I can think of is when I had both surgeries back to back on my bowel which led to me having a bowel surgery. It’s when my surgeon came in and was rude to me. He told me the only way I’d get better is if I “chopped my head off.” He repeated it over and over, as if that was an acceptable thing to say to a patient. I remember just sitting there, not crying, not responding — letting him finish and leave. And that was extremely hard for me, especially knowing he had just done two major surgeries on me, back to back — almost like he forgot what my body had just been through.
Moments like this stay with you. They shape how you advocate for yourself, how you trust your instincts, and how you decide what kind of care you deserve moving forward.
Reclaiming My Body, One Step at a Time
A few months after my ostomy surgery, I was still having some problems finding bags that worked for me but I was doing it all my bag without help. I did it on my own. I was changing my bag, trying to gain my weight back (I was 120 before the surgery and dropped down to 94 pounds). But doing it on my own truly made me happy because I didn’t need help, I didn’t need someone holding my hand. I did it on my own. And that was the best feeling ever.
Healing wasn’t perfect — but independence became an emotional victory just as powerful as any medical milestone.
The Nurse Who Believed in Me
My visiting nurse helped me and kept telling me that I can do this. It was a week after I got home from the hospital, and she could tell I was sad. I told her, “I can’t do this,” and she looked at me and said, “Yes, you can. It’s hard now, but before you know it, you’ll be doing it all on your own.” And she was right. She was also the nurse who encouraged me to look online for a chronically ill community — and boy, she was right about that too.
Sometimes, compassion isn’t dramatic — it’s one person seeing your fear and reminding you of who you are. That small encouragement helped me find community, belonging, and hope.
Scars as Reminders, Not Flaws
A reminder for me is my scars. Even though they are my biggest insecurity, they remind me of how strong I am and how far I’ve come. That I can do the hard things when it comes to my health and life and I can overcome any obstacle that may come my way.
What once felt like something to hide now reflects survival, resilience, and courage — proof of everything I've endured and everything she’s still capable of.
Follow Veronica on Instagram to learn more about her journey.
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