Horsham-based female personal trainer, Becky, has had two significant surgeries at different points in her life. Here, she shares some of the hidden side effects in a bid to raise awareness and normalise what others may be going through…
When it comes to the surgeries I’ve had, I tend to speak in terms of things which aren’t. I invalidate my own experience of a tumour, partly to get ahead of the jump (I’ve faced direct criticism for not being ill enough) – it was benign, so that’s one way in which I feel like a fraud, and it wasn’t followed by any other forms of treatment, which, when it comes to public understanding of cancer, tends to be interpreted as me not having had it at all (please feel free to call a travel insurance, or life insurance company and let them know – I promise that you’ll get a very different answer). Both surgeries have changed the function of my body – which does tend to be the general point of the exercise – and so I often discuss limitations that I have as a result.
What I very rarely reference is things which do exist or happen due to my surgeries. And I’m not here to spin it as a toxic positivity narrative of the whole experience being my superpower, but I did have pause for thought recently. Someone I follow openly shared side effects she experiences as a result of a surgery. These things are lifelong, and were all things that I was aware of as possibilities… but that’s partly due to the qualifications I hold, and because I’m a patient too.
Time and again, I meet people – and prospective clients – who were poorly prepared for what surgery and other treatment methods have left them with. I think that some of this is benign ignorance on the part of medics – you don’t know what you don’t know – and some of it is either wanting to protect people, or just not thinking it’s important (plus not wanting to put them off). As a way of getting around this, I’m going to pull back the curtain, and share some of the things about my body which may or may not surprise you…
Scarring (and it’s cousin – nerve damage)
We’ll start in one of the most obvious places – even keyhole surgery results in a scar. And, in my experience, you end up with more of them than you bargained for. Both of my surgeries have involved drains (which necessitate another small incision), and cannulas (I had a mark on the back of my left hand for many years from one of these which followed a surgery aged 18; there’s still one on my left wrist from the surgery I had in 2018 – nobody would know it’s there unless I pointed it out, but I can see it clearly next to my watch strap as I type).
The visual of scars has never bothered me – partly because both of mine are easily hidden, being on my torso. The practicality of nerve damage is very different. You can’t avoid it, it’s a necessary evil. What many people don’t appreciate is how it manifests. Locally – that is, at the site of the scar – you tend to lose sensation. It’s also normal to lose sensation and experience skin changes in other parts of your body. I’ve had a numb patch on my thigh (where there’s no incision or surgery been done) since 2005. And the day I had surgery on my spine, one of my feet also completely changed colour and texture. Fortunately, for me, much of this is about aesthetics, and so isn’t hindering my day to day life.
Nerve damage, as you may have guessed from the above, heals unpredictably, if at all. Years down the line, I can get intermittent and unpredictable pain where there’s damage. Fortunately, for me, it tends to be fleeting. I’m one of the lucky ones.
Loss of range of movement
This is another in which, for one of my two surgeries, it was the entire point. When fusing a spine to correct a scoliosis, you expect those levels to lose flexibility. It can still be frustrating (I have got stuck bent at an angle more than once, feeling like the Tin Woman).
When I had half of my abdominals removed in 2018, I didn’t factor for the loss of range of movement. Because I was that person who joked that you couldn’t see my abs anyway, so it was no loss. How wrong I was! It very much is a case of not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone. Again, the angles are pretty specific for me, but I now have a large piece of plastic where my abs once were. I have no motor control over said piece of plastic, and no proprioception of it. It doesn’t move because I tell it to, it’s fixed in place. And that’s necessary, but it does limit certain functions.
Digestive transit
Time to talk shit. Put your lunch to one side for a minute. I’ll add that what I’m about to say is heavily anecdotal, but I can promise you that things have changed.
Muscle has a thermogenic effect, and in our abdomen in particular, even those which aren’t directly involved in the process do have an impact on digestion in my experience. Since having part of my abdominals removed, I’ve noticed that my bowel function slows down a lot easier. I cope by keeping my fibre intake as high as possible, and ensuring that I eat a diverse range of nutrients. I stay well-hydrated, I move regularly… and I cross my fingers.
Other discomforts
A final specific to the fake abs is how uncomfortable it now can be to cough, sneeze, or blow my nose persistently. I truly discovered this last winter when I had what should’ve been a benign cold but had a horrible knock on effect to me. I was in tears one evening as I was fed up, fatigued, and in pain. Again: you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, and you can trust me when I tell you that you use your abs to blow your nose.
Ultimately, I’m grateful
Don’t get me wrong: the care I’ve received has been brilliant, and without the surgeries I’ve had, my quality of life would be far poorer. Unfortunately, no treatment is perfect, there are trade offs we make for generally feeling and doing better. I share this in the hope of normalising it for others – if you’re experiencing these things or others, you’re not alone nor a failure. If there’s something which is causing you serious problems, it’s worth discussing with a doctor (I’ve developed plenty of coping strategies myself).
Surgery isn’t “the easy option” or “a quick fix”, powerful and necessary as it can be.