MUM Lucy Mawson, 32, has a grim warning for anyone who
is planning to travel abroad for surgery.
As I fastened the buckle on my seatbelt and listened to the captain’s words, my heart sank.
“There’s a technical problem with the plane, ladies and gentlemen, and unfortunately we’re going to have to head back to Manchester Airport,” he said.
It was September 2022 and I was on my way to the coastal city of Izmir in Turkey to get a budget gastric sleeve, an op that reduces the size of your stomach so you cannot eat as much.
I had been inspired after watching a TikTok video where a woman showed off her weight loss following the procedure.
Single for years after having my little boy, Chester, three, in January 2019, I weighed 15st and had a BMI of 32, which put me in the obese category.
Diets and exercise did not seem to work. I would shed a few pounds then, within weeks, put them back on again.
The NHS would usually only fund the op for people with a BMI — which measures height against weight — of 40-plus.
Privately, gastric sleeve surgery in the UK costs between £7,000 and £11,000, so going to Turkey, where it is much cheaper, seemed like a brilliant idea.
I found the surgery where the woman on TikTok had hers done and my grandparents agreed to loan me £3,100 to pay for it.
But my mum Estelle, now 60, was fuming.
“It’s so dangerous Lucy,” she insisted, and showed me news reports of women who had died after undergoing one.
I’ve since read about Hayley Butler, 40, from Norwich, who died after having gastric sleeve surgery in Turkey last month and it’s terrible.
Last year, Shannon Meenan Browse, from Derry, Northern Ireland, was 32 when she died as a result of her surgery in Turkey 18 months earlier.
But I wasn’t worried in 2019 about my mum’s warnings. “That won’t happen to me,” I thought at the time, although I stupidly hadn’t even bothered to look at the surgery online.
The plane turning back seemed like a bad omen and the subsequent 23-hour delay an even worse one.
I hated my body and thought it was revolting. I’d struggled with my weight since I was a teenager
Lucy
“Please don’t do it, this is a sign,” my mum pleaded after I called.
But even though a part of me thought she had a point, I was determined.
I hated my body and thought it was revolting. I’d struggled with my weight since I was a teenager and had tried every diet under the sun.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a curvy, sexy woman, just a massive blob.
At times, I didn’t even want to leave the house. I detested every inch of myself.
So this quick-fix surgery felt like the answer to my prayers.
When I finally arrived in Turkey I, and a surprising number of other people from my plane, were picked up in fancy cars and taken straight to hospital.
When we arrived, staff came in with a load of forms to sign. I imagine they informed me about the risks of undergoing surgery but I didn’t read them, I just scribbled my name.
Five minutes later, I had a cannula in my arm. It was so hasty.
I was taken down to surgery at 6am and my next memory is of waking up in a recovery room full of other patients, screaming in agony.
“Please help me,” I kept crying.
Eventually, a nurse came over and gave me some pain relief. It was phenomenal how many patients around me — 15 men and women — had all just had surgery, like me.
For the next three days I remained in agony in the hospital. Just six hours after the op I had called my mum and she was terrified for me but felt helpless.
She wanted to be with me but was looking after Chester.
I kept being told that the pain was normal and that it was just trapped wind.
After three days, I was due to fly home, but I couldn’t even walk properly. I had to be given a CT scan to give me the all clear to fly, it was like a cattle market outside the scanning room, with everyone waiting to go in.
The scan was done so quickly, I worried whether it had been checked properly but I was given the OK to fly.
Still in agony, I got on the plane but passed out during the journey due to the excruciating pain.
My dad, Michael, 61, picked me up from Manchester Airport. Driving home to Bradford, I sat doubled over in agony.
The following day, I drove myself to A&E at Calderdale Hospital in Halifax, West Yorks., where they found my blood pressure was sky high.
I told them about my surgery so they gave me a scan and found I was suffering internal bleeding.
They took me to the bigger Huddersfield Hospital nearby.
The blood was pooling in my pelvic area, causing horrendous pain. All I could think about was Chester.
I thought I was going to die and he would grow up without a mum, all because I had opted to go to Turkey for cheap surgery.
Medics told me I was lucky I’d come in and that my situation could have been life-threatening.
I was in hospital for six nights and was closely monitored until my blood levels stabilised.
It was terrifying. Hospital staff said they thought the Turkish hospital did not stitch me up correctly post-surgery, which is why I continued bleeding.
The idea of being on a plane while I was bleeding internally makes me feel sick with horror.
I contacted the Turkish hospital but communication was shocking. I got nowhere, not even an apology, and I felt too traumatised to go to a solicitor.
Since then I’ve lost nearly 6st and now weigh 8st 10lb, but it’s been a high price to pay.
I dropped to below 8st at one point and had to be put on weight-gain shakes, which I still take. At that point I wept at what I’d done to myself.
I can honestly say I’d prefer to still be obese and never have had the surgery.
I’ve been left virtually unable to eat anything proper as solid foods cause me significant pain. The doctors are still investigating how they can help.
I have dizzy spells up to 30 times a day. I got out of bed recently to see Chester and I passed out in his bedroom. I could have hit my head and not be here now.
He was terrified, but thankfully I came around quickly. I have to live with those risks every day.
Now I hardly have a social life at all because of the risk of being sick and being in agony when I’m out. It’s heartbreaking and I hate Chester seeing his mum like this.
Ironically I’ve got much less confidence than I had before.
I have no curves at all and no bum. I feel like I’m not sexy. I stress that some men might find me too skinny.
If I could turn back the clock I would never have put myself through this, risking my life.
I’m skinny, but sad and no cut-price quick fix is worth this.
If you are planning to travel abroad for cheap surgery then my biggest piece of advice is: Don’t.
Your health and happiness are far more important — I wish I’d listened to my mum.
DOCTOR Leah Totton, cosmetic and medical doctor, told Fabulous Daily: “While there are many highly competent surgeons working overseas, my advice to people is to have surgery with a trusted plastic surgeon in the UK.
“The level of skill and training required to become a consultant plastic surgeon in the UK is high and any doctor’s medical practice in the UK is overseen by the general medical council.
“UK private hospitals are regulated by the care quality commission, ensuring standards of cleanliness, professionalism and care are closely monitored.”
