My Two Hernia Operations and the Broken Healthcare System

I'm sharing my story in the hopes it'll serve as a warning to others. I had two hernia operations in the same year, and the second one left a lasting impact on my life.

This is a tough story I've lived through, and it started when I was in 10th or 11th grade. Back then, I was a naive girl growing up in a strict family where I wasn't properly educated. I learned about my period from my period itself, and I had no idea what a woman's body should look like in detail. So, I didn't realize I had a hernia for several years – maybe even three or more. I described my symptoms to my mom, but she just shrugged it off and thought it was my imagination. I took it as a given and lived with it for years. My hernia looked like a small bump or a pimple that would pop out under my skin and sometimes hurt. I'd push it back in and continue with my life. I didn't see a gynecologist back then because I was really behind in that area and pretty shy. Sometimes, this 'bump' would pop out when we were shopping, and I'd have to push it back in through my clothes.

Things took a turn for the worse when the hernia started to be harder to push back in. One day, it happened during an exam – I had a severe spasm that left me paralyzed from the waist down. The pain was excruciating, like being burned with hot iron. I slid down the wall, and they called an ambulance.

They took me to the hospital, and the doctors examined me right away. They told me to go to a room and undress, which was really embarrassing. There were a lot of people in the room, and I had to undress in front of them. I was then covered up and taken to another wing of the hospital.

The hospital was in a terrible state.I was on a cold gurney, naked under a thin sheet, surrounded by a bunch of people walking around the hospital wing.

I have to say, the anesthesia recovery was a breeze – I woke up feeling pretty good, and the nurses gave me some vitamins and pain meds to help me out. I was still pretty sore, but I managed to get around with some effort, and by the next day I was able to move around a bit more easily. It was a daily routine of five injections, and within five days I was back to my old self, feeling like a spring chicken. Despite the less-than-ideal conditions at the hospital, the doctors and nurses were top-notch – they were kind, compassionate, and genuinely cared about my well-being. I was at the Kirov Hospital in Astrakhan, and I have to say, they really went above and beyond.

I was washing up with cold water, and there was an elderly woman lying in the corridor – there just weren't enough beds, and the rooms were empty.

The photo shows the laparoscopy trainer, with a special clip holding the mesh in place.My fifth port site was a lovely shade of blue from the injections – I have to say, I was impressed that they didn't skimp on the pain meds and were genuinely concerned about my well-being.

Discharge. A new, happy life – I was back at school, working. I thought it was all behind me, but then disaster struck – it was six months later. I was at work, moving a heater, and suddenly I felt this searing pain – and when I looked down, I saw that my inguinal hernia had popped out, but this time on the left side. It was like being hit with a cold shower – I had no idea what I was in for...

I visited a bunch of doctors, each with their own theories. Some said it was due to physical strain, while others claimed it was a result of starting a sex life. I mean, maybe I shouldn't have done it at all, given my predisposition?

I ended up in a fancy hospital with a helicopter pad – a far cry from the dingy place I'd been before. I thought to myself, 'How wrong I was.'

A hospital with a helicopter pad and fancy decorIt was time for a check-up, and an elderly doctor started examining me one by one. When it was my turn, he poked and prodded me before coming up with a hypothesis: I had cancer! I almost fainted in the ward, and he said I needed to get a biopsy and take a puncture. I don't remember what happened next, but everything was a blur. All I recall is that the next day, they told me I had a hernia, but what I went through...

Day X, the operation – I got undressed in a separate room, laid down on a gurney, and was wheeled into the operating room. To my dismay, I found out that the surgeon and two medical students would be performing the operation. I was mortified. They put me on the table, tied my hands like I was on a cross, and told me it would be a local anesthetic. Local! They numbed me, and started making the incision. I felt the pain, and saw the whole process reflected in the steel lamp. I started moaning, and the doctor kept injecting more anesthesia, but it didn't help – the pain was unbearable. I endured it, but the agony was excruciating when they started cutting and dissecting inside me. I got convulsions, started shaking uncontrollably, and had to fight to stay conscious. Tears streamed down my face. I want to note that I'm not exactly a wimp when it comes to pain tolerance, but this was something else. I screamed through a mouthful of blood and saliva, and my eyes burst with capillaries.

I was still shaking like crazy after the anesthesia, but the doctor didn't seem to care. They finally stitched me up and I thought it was all over, but I was wrong again.

They wheeled me into the recovery room. My mom was crying, holding my hand, she had no idea what I'd just been through. She just saw how I was, and then the agony started. She rushed out to ask for pain meds, but they assured her everything would be fine and showed her the door. I didn't get the shot until the next day during rounds. I was writhing in agony all night, trying to find ways to cope with the pain. It was a long and difficult night.

I didn't get a single shot for pain during my 5-day stay, except for one pain med in the morning. That's why it took me a month to recover. The horrors of rounds. The nurses would roughly rip off the bandages, and then roughly scrub my wound like it was an insult to them. They'd slap on some office tape to cover it up. I found out later that the ones who paid bribes got the good care – they got real bandages. One former nurse told me that all the meds and bandages are sold to the pharmacy, and the doctors make a pretty penny. It was a shocking revelation. I was stunned. In the next room, a woman was complaining about her stomach pain, but they just brushed her off like a nuisance. She ended up with a hard, black belly – it turned out the drainage tube had come loose, and pus was leaking into her abdominal cavity. They put her in a coma and she was in a special ward. I saw her, her belly was open and suspended on special clips. Every morning, they'd wheel her out for UV light treatment.

I have to say, day 4 was a real struggle. I was in so much pain, I couldn't even get out of bed. The rehab process was tough, and to make matters worse, the doctor comes in and tells me I have to make way for a new patient who's willing to pay. I mean, I know there are plenty of beds available, but I'm expected to vacate the premises. Day 5 was just as rough. My parents were coming to visit at 6 pm, but I was woken up at 6 am to be moved to a nearby chair. And then, to add insult to injury, they bring in another patient and put her in my bed, right next to my stuff. I was still recovering from the previous day's ordeal, and it was agony to sit up. I ended up sliding off the chair, and a kind nurse helped me back onto the bed, where I spent the rest of the day in agony. I have to admit, I wasn't exactly thrilled about the new patient who took my bed, even though I understand it's not her fault.

Scar on the left side

Scar on the right side That was my experience at the Alexei Mikhailov Regional Hospital in Astrakhan. It's a pretty high-end hospital with a helicopter pad, but unfortunately, that's where my positive experience ends. I'm still left with the scars – both physical and emotional – from that ordeal. Thanks for reading my story, and I wish you all the best in staying healthy and avoiding similar experiences.