- Nicole Trimboli, 51, from Ocean Grove, Vic was preparing for her holiday
- Feeling pain in her left abdomen, she was then diagnosed with bowel cancer just days before she set off for her trip
- Now cancer free, she lives with an ostomy bag
Here she shares her story in her own words.
Packing the last of my clothes into my suitcase, I closed the lid.
Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, I thought.
I couldn’t wait to go on holiday the following week.
But first I needed to undergo a colonoscopy after noticing a sharp, niggling pain in my left abdomen.
Initially I put it down to a dairy intolerance, but the pain became progressively worse.
So visiting my GP, I was sent for a CT scan which showed I had a thickening on the wall of my bowel.
A week later, as I was wheeled in for the procedure, I couldn’t wait to then go on my trip.
When I woke, the surgeon was sitting on the bed beside me.
‘His words hit me like a ton of bricks.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘You have bowel cancer.’
His words hit me like a ton of bricks.
As my bowel was so riddled with polyps the surgeon said I was just a few days away from being completely blocked up and needing emergency surgery.
Aside from the pain, I’d felt tiredness, and a slight loss in appetite, but I’d had no other symptoms.
I figured I was just burnt out from my jobs as a business development manager and a hairdresser.
Having battled non-Hodgkin lymphoma 15 years earlier, I’d endured 12 weeks of chemotherapy, when my kids, Maddy and James, were aged two and six months.
Now I was devastated to be fighting for my life again, aged 47.
Calling my parents, Ron and Denise, I asked them to bring the kids to the hospital.
That night, as they gathered around my bed, I broke the news, which stunned Maddy, then 17, and James, 15.
But there was no time to dwell, as I was taken back in for an op to create a stoma – a small opening near my abdomen – and to connect an ostomy bag – a pouch to collect waste from my body.
This time when I came to, the surgeon had more news.
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‘We found another tumour,’ he said, explaining I had a mass on both the top and bottom of my bowel. ‘You’re lucky you came in when you did.’
I was shocked, but relieved to hear it hadn’t spread any further.
Taking a peek at the clear ostomy bag was overwhelming.
Thankfully specialised stoma nurses Alison and Kate taught me how to change and empty the ostomy bag.
‘I had to stay strong for my kids.’
I’d need to undergo surgery to remove my large bowel, but first I required three months of chemotherapy.
Despite the battle that lay ahead, I knew I had to stay strong for my kids.
My son James shaved my head and, although we both cried, it was a beautiful moment.
After chemo, scans showed the tumours had reduced slightly.
My surgeon explained I needed my large bowel removed, but I had a choice.
I could have the ostomy bag removed and my small bowel rejoined to my anus – but I would need to use the toilet up to 10 times a day due to lack of control. Or I could live with a permanent ostomy bag.
For me there was no choice to be made – I chose the latter to keep my quality of life.
During a 12-hour op, doctors removed three and a half metres of my large bowel, and permanently connected an ostomy bag, leaving me just with my small bowel.
When I came to, doctors were confident that all the cancer had been removed.
Taking home the ostomy bag permanently was confronting and I wondered how to live life as the new me.
Staring in my wardrobe, I didn’t know what to wear – jeans rubbed on my bag and trousers with a waistband created too much pressure.
I was terrified to stray far from home in case the bag leaked.
‘Sometimes it was impossible to prevent leaks.’
And when I did leave, I was carting around a bag of supplies, including a repair kit, towels, and a change of clothes.
But no matter how prepared I was, sometimes it was impossible to prevent leaks.
One night I was on the lounge with Dad watching TV when my bag leaked.
As I dissolved into laughter, Dad laughed too.
But as the poo kept coming my laughter turned to tears, and soon Dad was crying too.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Dad soothed.
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Hoping to avoid future blow outs, or poonamis as I called them, I learned to stay hydrated, and watch my food intake.
But still I’d never be able to avoid accidents.
Daunted by life with an ostomy bag, my mental health suffered.
Then in 2023 when friends asked me to house sit in Ocean Grove, Vic, I jumped at the chance.
As I walked their dogs along the beach I loved the quiet, and decided to move there.
I’d get up early for sunrise yoga, and swim in the ocean with my bag proudly on show, without fear of people seeing me in a bikini.
For the most part people were supportive, but when someone shot me a pitying look, I thought, Don’t be sad for me, this is keeping me alive.
My bag was something to be celebrated, not ashamed of.
I began writing my book What a Sh!t Show about my experience with cancer and living with an ostomy bag.
During the launch this October, I wore a figure-hugging black dress, the outline of my bag clearly visible, something I never imagined I’d have the confidence to do.
My kids Maddy, now 22 and James, 20, were so proud of me.
I’ve been cancer free for four years, but I won’t stop raising awareness.
‘I’ve learned to love the new me.’
Bowel cancer is the deadliest cancer for people aged 25 to 54, so I urge others to know the signs and act if something doesn’t feel right.
I never imagined my life would play out this way, but through practise, I’ve learned to love the new me.
Visit nicoletrimboli.com.au
