Medical Tourism Musings.

Medical tourism is defined as travelling to another country specifically for cheaper, more accessible treatment. The majority of medical tourists travel for elective treatments (plastic surgery, dental work) that are available in their home country, albeit at a higher cost. I went to Turkey for a gastric sleeve for no other reason than the price: it was over £8,000 cheaper than having it done here.

I’ve always been pretty lucky when it comes to how I feel about myself. I like myself, I think i’m just swell. I’ve never seen my fatness as something bad, and i’ve never not-liked the way I look. I got my first job when I was 14. I was a Saturday girl in a bakery in Perth called Goodfellow and Steven. I worked there until I was 16 when I went to work in Etam/Tammy Girl. Etam has a plus-size section, the biggest size was a 26. And it was too small for me. I had hit the cakes HARD in my 2 years in the bakery. Fudge doughnuts were my kryptonite.

I spent the next 20+ years of my life being fat. I rarely weighed myself but I floated between a size 18 and size 24. I joined Slimming World, Weight Watchers, all of those. But never actively tried because I just didn’t want to. Quite frankly, I couldn’t be arsed. I only wanted to lose weight because I felt like I should want to lose weight. I had a friend who would starve herself to be thin. Going days with nothing but coffee purely to be thin. I just didn’t get it.

People want to be thin for various reasons, including societal pressure, a desire for better health, improved self-esteem, and increased attractiveness. In many cultures and societies, thinness is often associated with beauty, success, and a particular standard of appeal. Ultimately, the desire to be thin is often driven by a desire for personal fulfillment, confidence, and well-being.

Like everyone else seemed to, I piled on weight over covid. I love cooking and I love eating, and I had more time to do both. I refuse to not eat something that I want. What if I get hit by a bus? What if I didn’t have the twix then I die, and i’ve starved myself of the twix-based enjoyment. But it had got to the point where I was beginning to get a bit worried about my body. My knees made some wild crunchy noises, my hips were sore, I felt quite lethargic a lot of the time, and I wasn’t as enthusiastic during the no-pants-dance as I once was. That last bit was really the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I’ve mentioned in my other blog posts that I am lazy. And I mean it. I want an easy life. I don’t love a challenge. I’m indifferent to most things and I just like being in my own wee bubble with my husband and dogs. So I knew I wan’t going to be joining a gym or taking up running (did it once, got a medal, never again). And I knew that I was never going to make myself stop eating certain things. We’re a DINK couple. Double Income No Kids. I’d like to say we’re rolling in dough but my love for holidays, Paul’s love for telescopes and cameras, and the dogs love for costing me a trillion Scottish pounds at the vet once a month put an end to any chance of that. In saying that, I am lucky enough to be in the position to elect to have surgery because i’m too lazy to put in the effort to stop eating pies.

It's very safe to get cosmetic procedures in Turkey. Since medical tourism is a large portion of their tourism, they have developed a world-renowned healthcare system that provides high-quality care to patients. In the same vein, medical equipment and standards simply aren't as highly regulated in Turkey as they are in the UK and EU countries. As Turkey isn't part of the EU, they do not comply with the strict guidelines that surgeons and hospitals have here. There’s always a risk with any surgery, but you don’t need me to tell you that.

If you do make the decision to travel abroad for any form of surgery you will hear every single story from every single person you know about how their pal at work’s auntie’s friend’s sister went to Turkey for a boob job but woke up with a new nose and half their organs harvested. Just FYI.

I did a ton of research and read up about the various hospitals, companies and procedures. I decided to go with Ekol Hospitals in Izmir, and Dr. Ömer Yoldaş. I was getting a gastric sleeve and it was going to cost me £2,700 for everything: return flights from Edinburgh, 4 nights in hospital, 1 night hotel, transfers, the op, drugs, a heap of extra drugs and protein shakes to bring home and 12 months of support afterwards. The booking process was pretty easy. I spoke with one of the planners who asked what airport i’d prefer to fly from, they found my flights, booked my op in and sent me the info. I paid a £700 deposit when booking and the remaining £2,000 when I arrived at the hospital.

I flew from Edinburgh to Istanbul then Istanbul to Izmir. That was a bit of a hassle, so if you can get a direct flight then do. I was picked up by a rep in a pretty swanky minibus and driven the 25 minutes to the hospital. It was pretty late when I arrived (think it was about midnight) and I was taken into an office to book me in, fill in an absolute fuck-ton of paperwork and pay the balance. About an hour after I arrived at the hospital I was taken up to my room (which was a lot swankier than I was expecting) and left to chill for a bit. My op was going to be the next day so they had to start all the tests very early. We’re talking 3am. I got bloods taken, an ECG, an MRI, a camera crew down the throat, an ultrasound, they took some peepee, they did a psych test thing, there was defo more but I can’t remember it all. It was late. They noticed in my ultrasound that I have gallstones (I already knew this so wasn’t a shock) so asked if I wanted my gallbladder out while they were in the vicinity. Yes please! At about 7am I had a meeting with the doctor who explained everything to me, he had slides and various visual aids detailing the whole procedure. I felt really chilled out and looked after.

I had a nurse with me the whole time so I just followed him around and did what I was told. He brought me back to my room and explained the op was going to be in the next couple of hours (assuming the tests were all good) and that I should just get ready and chill out. The room had a giant TV and Netflix so this was by no means a hardship. I think it was about 3 hours of lounging then they came to take me down. I wasn’t nervous or worried, I was just thirsty and knew I was going to be able to gulp down juice for weeks. Literal weeks.

From leaving my room to falling asleep with the magic injection was only about 10 minutes. I kept talking about Grey’s Anatomy. Most of the staff ignored me. I told myself it was a language barrier, but I was just really annoying to be around.

The procedure usually takes about an hour, but as they were also taking out m’gallbladder I was under for about an 90 minutes. I woke up in intensive care (everyone wakes up there) and instantly peed myself. So that was nice. I coughed up a wee bit of blood and was generally confused AF, but the nurse was over in an instant and told me where I was and that I hadn’t been abducted my aliens.

The next 12 hours were sleepy! I spent about 90% of the next 3 days asleep to be honest. Glorious. I had a wee blowy thing to make sure my lungs were legit, I had to go on wee laps of the ward to help get all the gas from the keyhole surgery out, and other than that I just snoozed. After 12 hours the nurse brought me a wee glass of apple juice and a wee glass of water. I was allowed one sip every 20 minutes. That sip of apple juice was unlike anything i’ve ever experienced. Euphoric. A refreshing, tart and delicious apple juice that left me feeling rejuvenated and satisfied. But the sip was over oh-so-quickly. I set a timer on my phone. Every 20 minutes I was having my sip.

I got my heart rate and blood pressure taken every couple of hours by the nurses on the ward. They also made sure my apple juice was as a sip-able level. The day after my op the surgeon came in with his team and talked me through the op, answered any questions I had and gave me my gallstones in a wee tub. I have never been more horrified, but I was raised to always say thank you when someone gives you a gift. Even if it was extracted from inside of you.

I then got taken to the dietician who weighed me (I was exactly 300lb. Which was horrifying to learn, but I enjoyed the neatness of it.) and gave me the protein shakes and talked me through the next 6-8 weeks and phases of recovery and eating. The first 2 weeks is liquid. You can have bone broth, protein shakes and water/juice. No fizzy juice (supposedly every again but I’m back onto Irn Bru Xtra by the gallon.). The following 2 weeks you can incorporate mushy food; scrambled eggs, mashed potato, baked beans that you’ve chewed for 15 minutes, soup with no lumpy bits. Then you’re onto soft lumps. We’re talking soup with lumpy bits!

I was a bit scared of eating when I got home. I was worried i’d burst my stitches and have well-chewed beans floating around my torso. It was absolutely mental how little I could eat. I would make a single scrambled egg and a couple of tablespoons of baked beans and I’d manage about half and feel like i’d just eaten a full Christmas dinner. You’re supposed to wait 20 minutes after eating before you drink anything so that was a bit torturous. But it was fine! I wasn’t in any pain, I wasn’t hungry, and I wasn’t going to eat myself to death anymore.

I know I was very lucky with the whole process. Lots of people have pain or discomfort, and pretty much everyone has buyers remorse. The couple of weeks after it when you’re wanting to gulp down gallons of juice and get a maccers you regret everything. For me, that feeling faded pretty quickly. I bruise like a peach, and the purple monster that erupted on my stomach was the gnarliest thing i’ve ever seen. I was a bit sad when it faded.

In my first week I lost 16lb, then another 7lb the following week. It was no surprise really, i’d gone from eating about 5000 calories a day to eating about 5. It’s now been almost 7 months, and i’ve lost 6 stone.

I don’t have “before” photos or videos, as there was never going to be a before and after. There was greedy-cow and now there’s greedy-cow-with-80%-of-her-stomach-removed-so-she-can’t-eat-herself-to-death.