When Adewale woke up from surgery, the first thing he noticed was the absence of pain—the sharp, gut-wrenching agony that had tormented him for years. The second thing he noticed was the bag attached to his stomach.

He had lost his colon.

It had started with discomfort—mild cramps, bloating. He thought it was food poisoning. Then came the diarrhea, the bleeding, the weight loss. He ignored it. “Probably just stress,” he told himself. But stress didn’t explain why he was too weak to climb the stairs or why his stomach swelled as if he had swallowed stones.

Doctors ran tests. The verdict: ulcerative colitis—a disease that inflamed and wounded his colon until it could no longer function. Medications failed. The pain worsened. His only option was colectomy—a surgery to remove the colon completely.

Now, he had an ileostomy—an opening in his abdomen where waste passed into a bag. The first time he saw it, he felt sick. How could he live like this? Would people stare? Would they smell it? Would he ever feel normal again?

At first, life was hard. The stares, the whispers. Someone once asked if he had a bomb under his shirt. But with time, he adapted. He learned how to clean and change the bag. He found clothes that hid it. He discovered he could still swim, still travel, still dance at parties.

He had lost his colon. But he had gained something else—the chance to live without pain.

And that was enough.