The day of my gastric sleeve surgery was one I’ll never forget – not just because it marked the start of my new life, but because it didn’t go quite according to plan. What was meant to be a smooth, routine procedure turned into one of the scariest experiences of my life.
Looking back, I learned a lot – not just about surgery, but about listening to my body, following medical advice, and accepting help when you need it.
The Morning of Surgery
The day before, we found out the order of our surgeries. Kirsten would go second, and I’d go third – around 11 to 12pm. I woke up at 7am, mostly because Kirsten and I were sharing a private hospital room, so when she was woken up for her prep, I was too.
The morning was all about keeping Kirsten calm. She’s naturally more anxious than I am, so we’d agreed that she’d go first to avoid her worrying about me while waiting. It made sense – if I went first, she’d imagine the worst until she saw me again.
So from 7am to 9am, I focused on reassuring her that everything would be fine. The hospital staff were brilliant – they made sure our plan was accommodated, and that helped both of us feel calmer.
The Wait
Between 9 and 9:30am, I took a quick shower, got into my medical gown, and helped Kirsten get ready before she was taken to surgery at around 10am.
Once she left, I was left with my own nerves. I scrolled on my phone, trying to distract myself, but the reality was settling in – I was about to have most of my stomach removed.
When my time came, the nurses arrived with a wheelchair. On the way to theatre, they kindly took a detour so I could see Kirsten one last time before going under. I’d spent all morning reassuring her, but in that moment, it was me who needed reassurance.
Going Under
In the operating room, everything moved quickly. I was connected to monitors, had EKG pads placed, and an anaesthesiologist began preparing the medication. One nurse stayed beside me, talking softly – probably to keep me calm – while the anaesthesia took effect.
Then came one of the strangest sensations I’ve ever experienced. My vision began to fade, not instantly, but gradually. The edges darkened first, as if someone was slowly dimming the lights, and everything in the distance disappeared before my eyes. For a few seconds, I could still hear the room – people speaking in Latvian, the beep of machines – but I didn’t understand any of it. Then everything went black.
Waking Up
When I woke up, I was back in our private room. Kirsten was already there, awake and recovering, though I was still completely out of it. A nurse came in to check on me, helped me drink small sips of water, and made sure I was comfortable.
Around 5pm, I properly came round. I chatted briefly with Kirsten, but not long after, the nurses began encouraging us to move. It’s standard practice after bariatric surgery – gentle movement reduces the risk of blood clots and helps the body recover.
They gave us small goals: first walking halfway down the corridor to the water fountain, then later all the way to the end to fetch a yoghurt drink for the next day. I managed it, but something felt off. I was dizzy – more than I should’ve been.
The Fainting Spells
By 7pm, it became clear that something wasn’t right. I stood up, and the room spun. Then I fainted.
At first, we thought it was just a reaction to the anaesthetic, but it kept happening – ten times in total. A few of those times, I had small seizures. The nurses were quick to act, helping me back to bed and monitoring my vitals. They suspected postoperative hypotension and told me to stay in bed until further notice.
They were right to. But I didn’t listen.
The Fall
Around 2am, I woke up needing to use the toilet. Kirsten was asleep, and I didn’t want to bother her or call the nurses – partly because I was embarrassed, and partly because I thought I could manage.
That was a mistake.
I remember standing up and walking into the bathroom, but that’s where my memory cuts off. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, surrounded by nurses, bleeding from my nose, lip, and incision wounds.
Kirsten told me later that she woke to a loud crash, ran into the bathroom, and found me on the floor, bleeding and semi-conscious. Apparently, I’d fainted, hit my face on the toilet, then collapsed onto a bin, injuring my stomach. When I tried to stand up again, I fainted a second time – this time hitting my face on the sink.
The nurses cleaned me up and got the bleeding under control. They were calm, professional, and unbelievably kind. I, on the other hand, was mortified.
The Second Surgery
By morning, I knew something wasn’t right. The pain was worse, and I felt weak. Around 6am, a nurse wheeled me off for new blood tests and scans – all of which were much more painful than before.
When I returned to the room and finally drifted off, I woke to the surgeon and two nurses standing over me. They told me I had internal bleeding and needed a second surgery right away.
Everything after that was a blur. I remember being stripped down, strapped to the table, and then the same darkness taking over.
When I woke up, the pain was gone. Completely. The difference was instant. I felt better than I had since the first operation. Later that day, I even walked down the stairs, which the nurses found amusing (and Kirsten found terrifying).
The surgeon explained that the fall had caused internal damage near the surgical site – a freak accident, but serious. If I’d stayed in bed like they told me to, it wouldn’t have happened.
Lessons Learned
That first 48 hours after surgery were a rollercoaster – and a brutal reminder that embarrassment should never outweigh caution.
If you’re preparing for gastric sleeve surgery, take this as your warning: listen to your doctors, accept the help you’re offered, and never rush recovery. The smallest misstep can have serious consequences.
I was lucky – extremely lucky – that the team acted fast and that the damage was fixable. It could have been much worse.
Today, I’ve healed completely, but I’ve never forgotten that night. It taught me humility, patience, and the importance of letting go of pride when your health is at stake.
Disclaimer: This post shares our personal experience of gastric sleeve surgery and recovery. It is not intended as medical advice. Always follow the guidance of your surgeon and medical team before and after surgery.