Summary

A patient shares their harrowing experience of undergoing surgery for an inguinal hernia, expressing the emotional and physical toll of the ordeal and the disappointing treatment received at a private hospital post-surgery.

Abstract

The author, suffering from an inguinal hernia due to intense workouts, describes the excruciating pain that disrupted their daily life and social interactions. After careful consideration, they opt for private medical treatment to alleviate the condition. Despite an initially smooth surgical process, the post-operative care is marred by unprofessional conduct. The patient faces a life-threatening situation when they choke on medication, leading to reopening of the wound and a distressing discharge process, which highlights the importance of advocating for oneself and not blindly trusting healthcare professionals.

Opinions

The author believes not all professionals uphold the expected standards of care and professionalism, as evidenced by their own experience.
They express a deep concern for patient safety and the potential consequences of negligence, especially for vulnerable patients like the elderly.
The patient's experience reveals a sense of helplessness and frustration with the healthcare system, particularly when faced with dismissive attitudes from medical staff.
There is an underlying sentiment of resilience and the necessity of self-advocacy in the face of life's challenges and inequalities.
Despite the negative experience, the author maintains confidence in the broader medical community, viewing their ordeal as an isolated incident.
The author emphasizes the importance of critical thinking when dealing with health professionals, suggesting that patients should question and not passively accept all advice given.

I had undergone 3 surgical incisions around my belly button to exchange 1 hard truth in life.

#Not all professionals are professionals. What had they done?

I suffered from an inguinal hernia for months due to heavy workouts. Friends and family witnessed me languishing, as my life became entwined with this ineffable pain.

My condition has worsened over the past two months. During a camera test for gastritis, I struggled a lot, and unfortunately, the hernia protruded in a weirder way than usual.

The pain and discomfort have permeated greatly into my social life. I can hardly sneeze, laugh, or stand for too long, which means that I cannot accompany my high-school kid while they strive hard for the homestretch of their GCSE exams — once in a lifetime.

Eventually, I decided to pay for private medical treatment. The decision to spend a few thousand pounds was not made haphazardly; I had pondered over it for days and nights. The fee was not trivial for me, but I could use the money more sparingly afterwards.

I believed that if the surgery could enliven my situation, then it was worth the cost.

On the verge of the operation date, I kept receiving documents and notice from the hospital. Meticulous planning is always better than disorganized planning, especially when it comes to medical procedures.

This being my first surgery, I haven’t told my mother, who currently lives on the far side of the world.

I did not want her enmeshing into any ambivalent emotions. No matter what, I will let her know, after everything had done seamlessly.

I love her.

My surgery was done under general anesthesia. It took me three seconds to fall asleep and I regained consciousness after three hours. I must admit, I was impressed with the professional skills of both the surgeon and the anesthetist — they were gold.

However, the hospital experience was not 100% perfect. I was even embroiled into a distraught situation.

I have unwillingly realised that — Not all professionals are truly professionals.

Painkillers was distributed to patient like me after surgery. Oral solution like morphines, or pills like codeine or paracetamol could be listed as examples.

I was lying on the bed, barely able to flex my abdominal muscles since I had been cut around my belly button. My throat had been dry for hours due to fasting before the surgery. My mind was fuzzy, and the world seemed new to me at that moment.

I squinted at the pills placed inside the little cup, and my father held a cup of water for me to take a tiny sip and swallow them…

And all of a sudden, I choked instantly — A huge choke.

The pills got stuck in my throat and I could hardly breathe. I struggled fiercely and violently on the bed, as it was a natural reaction. Inadvertently, everything on the patient table slipped onto the floor and shattered into pieces. Doctors and nurses rushed into the ward to fix the situation.

With hindsight, it could have been pernicious if the same incident happened to an elderly person. Life could be taken away.

The wound had dehisced and started bleeding again, so I had to wear an oxygen mask. I could feel my heart had plummeted into a ravine precipitously.

It was just pure bad luck.

The situation was grim. Doom periphery. I couldn’t walk, go to the bathroom, or change my clothes. Even though my pulse rate, heart rate, and other vital signs returned to normal gradually, it was still a slow process.

At 10:00 pm, a nurse came to my father and said — “Your son HAVE TO go home NOW. He is discharged by the doctor and he is happy to send you home.”

By the way, I was asleep at that moment. In a shallow mode.

I had mixed feelings after hearing this. I could NOT understand why a doctor could discharge a patient in this tough situation, and at the late night.

My father, who sat next to me, is a new English learner. He was so worried that my situation would be exacerbated due to whatever reason, such as choking.

“I…I…I… my son…no good…I love my son…” My father stumbled the word.

“He…today… stay … ok…? stay ..?” My father tried his best to solicit the nurse.

I was heartbroken to hear my father beg like this because of my situation.

I was fed up.

I could not understand why we were being treated like this. I couldn’t bear it anymore.

I eventually opened my eyes, raised a question and asked her “May I ask is it a command or a recommendation to back home in this condition please?”

Given that the occupancy of the private hospital is 1/20 at that time. She replied “You have no medical reason for staying tonight. We could not offer any help in this case. Do you need a taxi?”

The answer was ridiculous and quite insulting. I was not being grouchy, and I did not want to fawn over a place to stay. My thoughts were unsettled and entangled by fuzz and tantrum, yet my rational thoughts told me to stay calm — I was not looking for any commiseration.

I replied “Thank you for letting me know. May I see the doctor please?” A young doctor came, folded his arm in front of his chest. I could vividly remember what he said for the first sentence —

“Mr. Wang! why are you adding trouble to my life..?” Such sentence slipped out of his tongue, which made me pissed and extremely unhappy for his professionalism. “You are YOUNG”, “Patients SUPPOSED to leave within 5–6 hours after a day case surgery”, “Your condition LOOKS fine…” All those bullsh*t

I did not expect such nonchalant words. It is heart-wrenching to a patient. I was furious but helpless. I could feel pangs of pain of my wound, it acted as a alarm to calm myself down.

After tangling for few rounds, he agreed to let me stay. Hard lesson learnt in this painful situation —

“Fight for your dignity and dare to stand strong in the face of life’s inequalities.”

Professionals may also have biases. Do not blindly trust and obey them. Always maintain a sense of critical thinking and judgement. Some people may not want what is best for you and only care about themselves.

I may eventually forget what was said, but the feeling will linger. Nonetheless, I have confidence in the tens of thousands of professionals all over the world, and I believe this was simply an exceptional case, tailor-made by the universe for me.

Great lesson.

Thank you for reading :) Stay healthy, stay safe. Leave me any messages.