The Night Before
We found out the order of our surgeries the day before the operations. I (James) was third on the list, which put my surgery time at around 11am to 12pm. Kirsten was second. We had specifically asked for Kirsten to go before me – she tends to worry more, and if I had gone first she would have spent the time imagining worst-case scenarios. Going second meant she would already be recovering when I went in, which reduced that anxiety considerably. The hospital at Weight Loss Riga accommodated this without any issue.
The Morning
I woke up around 7am when the nurses came for Kirsten. From that point until she was taken to theatre at around 10am, my job was reassurance. Not because she was not capable of handling it – she was – but because surgery nerves are intense regardless of how rational you are about the decision, and talking through it helped.
After she was taken, I showered, put on the medical gown, and waited. I spent about half an hour on my phone. When my turn came, a nurse brought a wheelchair. They took a slightly longer route past the recovery area so I could briefly see Kirsten before I went in – she was already out of surgery and awake. I had spent the morning convincing her not to worry about me. The truth is that by the time I was in that wheelchair, I needed to see her for my own peace of mind as much as anything else.
The Surgery
The operating room moved quickly. Within minutes of arriving I was on the table, connected to monitors, EKG pads applied, anaesthetic administered. A nurse kept talking to me throughout – almost certainly to keep my attention on her rather than everything else happening around me. As the anaesthetic took hold the sensation was distinctive: my vision darkened from the edges inward, objects fading in sequence until everything was gone, followed shortly after by sound. The last thing I heard was the surgical team speaking in Latvian, which I do not understand.
Then nothing. Then recovery.
The Complication
I came round in the late afternoon. Kirsten was already awake in the same room, which was reassuring. I felt strange but assumed that was normal. I was asked to get up and walk to the water fountain at the end of the corridor – standard post-operative mobility protocol. At first this seemed manageable.
By 7pm it was clear something was wrong. I stood up and fainted. This happened approximately ten more times over the following hours, and on several of those occasions I had a seizure. The nurses kept me in bed and concluded it was likely a reaction to the anaesthetic combined with postoperative blood pressure issues – I have a documented history of adverse reactions to anaesthetic, which had been flagged during pre-operative consultations and managed in theatre, but the post-operative effects were more significant than expected.
I was told clearly: do not get out of bed without a nurse or Kirsten present. I followed that instruction until around 2am, when I needed to use the bathroom and was too embarrassed to ask for help. Kirsten had finally fallen asleep. I decided to go alone.
I remember walking into the bathroom. After that, nothing.
The next thing I knew, several nurses were pulling me out of it. I had fainted, hit my face on the toilet, landed on a bin – which caught my abdomen – and then fainted again, hitting my face on the sink on the way down. Kirsten had heard the noise, found me, and called for help. There are photos of this on the aftercare section of the site. The nurses cleaned me up, stopped the bleeding from my nose and lip, checked the incision sites, and gave me painkillers. I fell asleep.
The Second Surgery
At 6am a nurse woke me and took me in a wheelchair for a repeat of all the pre-operative tests. They were considerably more painful than the first time, which was the first clear sign that something was internally wrong. Around 10am, the surgeon and nursing team arrived. They stripped me down, explained that I had internal bleeding, and told me I needed a second operation immediately. I was heavily medicated and do not remember much of the next few hours.
When I woke that afternoon, the difference was instant. The pain was gone. I felt well enough that I walked down the stairs to see how I felt – which apparently amused the nursing staff and alarmed Kirsten. In a follow-up conversation, the surgeon explained that the impact with the bin had most likely caused internal damage to the surgical site. This was an extremely unlikely outcome and is not representative of a normal recovery.
What I Would Do Differently
One thing, and only one: I would have called for help at 2am rather than trying to manage alone. Every complication that followed stemmed from that decision. The nurses were there specifically for that purpose. There was no genuine reason to feel embarrassed. I caused a significant amount of distress and a second operation by ignoring advice that had been given to me clearly and for very good reasons.
If you are told to stay in bed and call for assistance, stay in bed and call for assistance. The embarrassment is not worth it.
The surgery itself went well. The anaesthetic reaction was pre-flagged and managed. The post-operative fainting was an unfortunate but known risk given my history. What turned a manageable complication into a serious one was a decision I made at 2am out of embarrassment. That is the honest account.
Sources
BOMSS (British Obesity and Metabolic Surgery Society) – Patient pathway and commissioning guidance for bariatric surgery
NICE CG189 – Obesity: identification, assessment and management (National Institute for Health and Care Excellence)
NHS – Having an operation: what to expect (nhs.uk)
About this content
This blog is written by James and Kirsten, a couple from the UK who had gastric sleeve surgery together in March 2024.
We started this blog because we couldn't find any sources of content that details before surgery, the surgery and then life post surgery - so we decided to write one ourselves.
Everything on this site is based on our own experience and the research we have done along the way. It is not medical advice. Gastric sleeve surgery is a serious procedure and every patient's journey is different. Please always consult your own bariatric team or GP before making any decisions about your health or treatment.
Some posts on this site may contain featured or sponsored content, or affiliate links. Where this is the case, it will always be clearly stated at the top of the article. Our opinions are always our own.
Publish Date: 9 August 2024 | Last Reviewed: 7 June 2026 | Next Planned Review: 7 December 2027