I thought it was trapped wind – A&E said I could have died

‘You have gallbladder disease,’ a locum GP told me, matter-of-factly.

‘Your chances of developing gallbladder cancer are at an all-time high,’ she continued. ‘The gallstone you have is so big that the next time it tries to pass, it could perforate your bowel – and you’re a significant sepsis risk.’

She went on to tell me I’d need to have my gallbladder removed. I tried to focus my eyes on her as my world collapsed in on me. 

I couldn’t wrap my head around it – and I couldn’t help but blame myself. 

I kept thinking about how, for two years, I had frequently dismissed my painful, debilitating symptoms out of embarrassment.  

It started in August 2022, when I was holidaying in Cornwall with my ex and his friends.

One night, we went straight to bed after a few drinks at the local – but around 2am, a strange sensation startled me awake. It was a dull, bloaty feeling on the right side of my stomach.

‘Trapped wind,’ I thought to myself. ‘That’s all it’ll be.’ 

Right there and then, I tried all the trapped wind tips and tricks I had in my toolkit, from small sips of warm water to assuming the cat/cow yoga position.

But nothing would shift it.

Then, alarmingly, the sensation suddenly formed into a ball of excruciating pain, deep in my side. 

Nausea and panic began to set in, and I was sick all over the bedsheets. I ran to the bathroom and vomited some more – but the pain kept getting worse. My ex ran in to see what all the fuss was about. 

‘I can’t move,’ I sobbed, clutching at my stomach. ‘I can’t sit up.’

It felt like someone had a vice-grip on my ribs and was slowly pulling my organs out from underneath.

My ex tried to persuade me to go to A&E. But, despite the fact that I was writhing around in – quite literally – the worst pain I’d ever experienced, doubt crept in.

‘It’s trapped wind,’ I insisted. ‘There’s no point in wasting NHS resources.’ 

I let this go on for another two years before I sought help.

My stomach pain flare-ups were my one constant; outlasting that particular relationship and seeing me into a new one. While my earliest flare-ups only lasted around three hours, my later ones would reach 16 to 20 – and, while they could be sporadic, they happened roughly once a month.

But I was so convinced I just had the worst case of bloating in Britain, I managed to go ages without telling anyone about it. I repeatedly silenced the voice in the back of my head saying it could be something more – because I was too embarrassed to speak to my doctor about trapped wind. 

The pain came to a very sudden climax in June 2024, at my work’s summer party.

After arriving, mingling and having a few sips of Prosecco, I started to feel that vice-like grip take hold of my right-hand side. I knew I had to get away quickly, so I excused myself to the toilet.

I sat hunched over on the loo, eyes tightly closed.

The flare-up felt different this time, though. Not only did I experience the upper-right pain, but it radiated to the top of my stomach and my back. It was excruciating.

In fact, I felt like I was having a heart attack. 

The next thing I knew, I collapsed in a heap on the cubicle floor – having briefly lost consciousness. 

Minutes later, as soon as I was cognisant, I rang my current partner, telling him how terrified I was and begging him to come and get me.

I then made an emergency GP appointment for three days later. 

Looking back, I can’t believe it took me two years to speak to a medical professional.

 And when I did, I didn’t feel like I was being listened to.

An ultrasound scan found a golfball-sized gallstone nestled in my gallbladder

Despite my periods being normal, my GP was adamant for a time that it was endometriosis. I spent three months on a referral list to gynaecology at my local hospital, only for the consultant to tell me in two minutes that my issue was related to gastroenterology. 

The experience gave me a fire in my belly to stop accepting the bare minimum from my healthcare provider. Despite my anger, though, I still felt like an inconvenience every time I made a follow-up appointment.

Eventually, after over 70 appointments, I was booked in for an upper-gastrointestinal ultrasound in April 2025. This scan found a golfball-sized gallstone nestled in my gallbladder – and the organ itself was chronically inflamed. 

My flare-ups were happening because the mass was trying to pass itself, and getting lodged in my bile duct. 

My surgery was scheduled for 20th June, after being placed on an ‘urgent’ waiting list. This was the first operation I’d ever needed, and the thought of it terrified me. 

Despite knowing the extent of my gallbladder disease, I kept momentarily talking myself out of surgery; that I ‘didn’t really need it’, because I wasn’t in pain ‘every single day’. 

The operation was a success, though, and I felt instant relief about having the rotten organ removed as soon as I woke up.

And, despite the prospect of probably having to be on medication for the rest of my life, I now feel great.

But it’s an understatement to say I’ve learnt my lesson.

Back when my symptoms first started, I didn’t want to go to A&E because I was ‘confident’ I had trapped wind. So I put it off – until my gallbladder disease had progressed to a point of no return.

I’ve become the biggest advocate for my own health since then. I don’t mind feeling like a nuisance; especially if it gets me much-needed answers.

Most of all, I’m never embarrassed to speak to my GP any more – I’m down there for every lump, bump and twinge now – and I’ll never be embarrassed of my own health (or lack thereof) ever again.

Originally published March 28, 2026

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المصدر: Metro UK