How I ended up having five surgeries in nine days in Vietnam

Chapter 1

When The Mirror Starts Telling A Different Story

I’ll be honest. For most of my forties, I didn’t think too much about ageing. Sure, there were little changes here and there. A few extra lines. A little less firmness. The odd photo that made me wince. But nothing dramatic. Then I hit my late forties.

And somewhere between forty-eight and fifty-three, I started noticing something that I suspect many women experience. The woman looking back at me in the mirror wasn’t quite matching the woman I felt like inside. Not because I’d suddenly become old. Far from it. I was still active. Still ambitious. Still social. Still building businesses. Still travelling. Still excited about life.

Inside, I felt exactly the same. Outside, however, things had started to change. And it wasn’t just my face. It was everything. The skin around my jawline wasn’t as tight as it once was. My eyes looked more tired. My arms weren’t as firm. My thighs weren’t as smooth. My bum had seemingly packed its bags and left sometime in the previous decade. The reality is that ageing doesn’t happen in one place. It happens everywhere.

And while the world loves telling women to “grow old gracefully”, I suspect many women reading this have quietly rolled their eyes every time they’ve heard it. Because here’s the truth. Most of us aren’t trying to look twenty-five again. We’re not trying to become someone else. We’re simply trying to feel like ourselves. To look in the mirror and recognise the person we still feel we are. That’s not vanity. That’s human.

Unfortunately, the moment a woman mentions cosmetic surgery, everyone suddenly has an opinion. “You’re beautiful as you are.” “You don’t need it.” “Why would you do that?” “Just age naturally.” Easy advice to give when you’re not the one looking at your reflection every day.

The truth is, many women keep these thoughts completely to themselves. Because they don’t want to be judged. They don’t want to be called vain. They don’t want people thinking they’re shallow. But wanting to feel confident in your own skin doesn’t make you vain. It makes you normal.

And eventually I reached a point where I decided I was going to do something about it.

Chapter 2

Why Overseas Never Really Scared Me

This is where my story differs from many others. For most people, travelling overseas for surgery is the biggest hurdle. For me, it wasn’t. I’d spent more than twenty years in the beauty industry. I’d owned and operated a women’s health clinic.

I’d worked with hundreds of women who had travelled overseas for procedures. I’d also travelled extensively myself. In fact, I’d already undergone cosmetic surgery overseas when I was forty. So the idea of getting on a plane didn’t bother me. The idea of surgery didn’t bother me either.

Because the reality is this: the fears people have about surgery overseas are exactly the same fears they have about surgery in Australia. What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t wake up? What if I hate the result? What if there’s a complication?

Those questions don’t disappear simply because the hospital is in Australia. In fact, let me tell you something most people find surprising. The year before I travelled to Vietnam, I’d had two tummy tucks right here on the Gold Coast. Both were disappointing. Both left me feeling worse than I did before I’d had them. So the idea that surgery automatically becomes safer, better or more successful simply because it’s performed in Australia isn’t always true.

Good surgeons can have bad days. Average surgeons can produce incredible results. Medicine isn’t mathematics. It’s human. And that’s important to understand. Because one thing became very clear to me. People aren’t travelling overseas simply because it’s cheaper. They’re travelling because they’re looking for outcomes.

And sometimes the best outcomes aren’t necessarily found in your own backyard.

Chapter 3

The Decision Was Made

Once I’d made the decision, there was no talking me out of it. And believe me, people tried. My mum certainly tried. Like many women from her generation, she firmly sits in the “grow old gracefully” camp. “You’re beautiful as you are.” “You don’t need it.” “Why would you do that?”

And I understand where she’s coming from. But the reality is that every generation sees ageing differently. Fifty today isn’t what fifty looked like thirty years ago.

Women are healthier. More active. More independent. Many of us are still working, travelling, dating, exercising, building businesses and living incredibly full lives. We’re not sitting quietly in the corner waiting to become invisible. At least I’m not.

My friends had opinions too. Some were supportive. Some thought I was crazy. Some couldn’t understand why I would travel overseas. Others couldn’t understand why I wanted surgery at all. But here’s what I’ve learned. Nobody else has to live in your skin. Nobody else has to look in your mirror. And nobody else gets to decide what makes you feel confident.

At the time I was 53 years old and single. Now before this turns into a dating article for women over fifty, let’s just be honest for a moment. The dating pool isn’t exactly overflowing. And if you’re going to put your best foot forward, then why not put your best face forward too? Some people won’t like hearing that. That’s okay. This isn’t about pleasing everybody. This is about being honest.

I’d reached a point where I knew what I wanted to do. I wasn’t looking for permission. I wasn’t looking for approval. I was simply ready. Then came the moment where talking about it turned into reality. The flights.

You can spend months saying you’re going to do something. Researching. Planning. Talking. Dreaming. But the second somebody sends you the airfare quote and asks for payment, everything suddenly becomes very real. This wasn’t a conversation anymore. This was happening. And strangely enough, that wasn’t frightening. It was exciting.

The gap between booking my flights and leaving Australia was only about four weeks. I wasn’t dragging this out for six months. I wasn’t second-guessing myself. I was ready to go.

Chapter 4

Boarding The Plane

I flew with Singapore Airlines. Originally, I’d booked economy. Then I arrived at the airport, looked at the upgrade option and thought: “Sod it.” I’m 53 years old. I’ve worked hard my entire life. If not now, when? So I upgraded myself to business class.

I’d already planned to fly home business class after surgery, but flying over there that way felt like a little reward to myself before everything began. And honestly? It was one of the best decisions I made. The flight was fantastic. No nerves. No panic. No last-minute doubts. Just excitement.

I landed in Ho Chi Minh City with a rough plan, a suitcase full of optimism and about $200 Australian dollars exchanged into Vietnamese dong. I already knew the taxi would cost around $30. I knew the trip to my apartment would take about twenty-five minutes. I knew where the nearest cafés were. The nearest restaurants. The nearest supermarkets.

In fact, I’d spent weeks asking ChatGPT absolutely everything. How far is the airport? What can I do while recovering? Where should I eat? What can I realistically expect after surgery? Can I walk here? Should I visit there? I’d basically planned my entire trip before I’d even left Australia.

Of course, once I arrived, most of that plan went straight out the window. As tends to happen. I checked into my apartment and immediately knew I’d made the right choice. The location was fantastic. The apartment was spacious. The city felt vibrant. And suddenly I wasn’t a nervous patient preparing for surgery. I was a traveller having an adventure.

There was even a bottle of wine waiting for me. So I poured a glass. Then another. Messaged everyone back home to let them know I’d arrived safely. Packed my hospital bag. Unpacked my holiday clothes. And went to bed.

The next morning, everything would begin.

Chapter 5

The Hospital

At 9 o’clock the next morning, the hospital driver arrived to collect me. This was it. The day had arrived. And yet surprisingly, I felt completely calm. No panic. No fear. No desire to turn around and run back to Australia. Just curiosity.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was introduced to Tim. Now if you’ve never travelled overseas for surgery before, this is one of those things nobody tells you. Many hospitals assign interpreters or patient coordinators who stay with you throughout the process. Tim became my guide, translator, coordinator and occasional comedian. And he was brilliant. In fact, everyone was.

The first thing that happens is a full medical assessment. Blood tests. ECGs. Ultrasounds. Everything necessary to make sure you’re fit for surgery. I’d actually completed my own blood tests in Australia a few weeks before leaving, simply because I wanted peace of mind before booking flights. That wasn’t required. It was just me being practical.

What struck me most wasn’t the technology. Or the facilities. Or even the efficiency. It was how organised everything felt. There were patients from all over the world. Different countries. Different languages. Different procedures. Different stages of recovery. Yet everything moved like a well-oiled machine. The hospital was immaculate. The staff were kind. The systems were modern.

Everything was digital. Everything felt professional. And any lingering fears that someone might have about overseas healthcare? Honestly, they disappear pretty quickly once you’re sitting there experiencing it for yourself. You’re never left wondering what’s happening. You’re never left alone. There is always somebody helping. Always somebody guiding. Always somebody making sure you’re okay.

And that’s the moment I realised something important. This wasn’t what most people imagine when they think about overseas surgery. Not even close.

One thing that surprised me was how straightforward the payment process was. Before arriving, I had already received quotations for the procedures I was considering, so there were no major surprises waiting for me. But what I hadn’t fully appreciated was how flexible the whole process was. It’s essentially a pay-as-you-go system. You pay for the procedures you choose to have.

If you decide to add something, you pay for that as well. If you decide not to proceed with something, you don’t pay for it. Everything is discussed openly and costed clearly before any decisions are made. There were no hidden surprises. No pressure. No awkward conversations. Just straightforward discussions about options and pricing.

One thing worth noting is that most hospitals charge a credit card processing fee, which was around 2% in my case. Honestly, once you’re there and experiencing the level of service and care, it all makes perfect sense. Everything is transparent. Everything is documented. And everything is agreed to before you proceed.

I mention this because one of the biggest fears people have about overseas surgery is cost. People often imagine unexpected expenses appearing from nowhere. That simply wasn’t my experience. Every decision had a price attached to it. And every decision was mine to make.

Which brings me to the moment that changed my entire surgical plan.

Chapter 6

The Conversation That Changed Everything

When I first arrived in Vietnam, I thought I knew exactly what I was having done. I was there for a facelift. Specifically, I was planning to have a SMAS facelift. I’d done enough research to understand the difference between a traditional facelift and a deep plane facelift, but I’d convinced myself that a SMAS procedure would probably be sufficient. So when I finally sat down with my surgeon, I thought we were simply confirming the plan.

Instead, he looked at me and smiled. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Now, whenever a surgeon starts a conversation like that, it’s probably worth paying attention. I laughed and told him to start with the good news. “The good news,” he said, “is that you can absolutely have a facelift.”

Excellent. “So what’s the bad news?” “The bad news is that you can’t have the one you came here for.” At that point, he explained that because of my age and because I’d previously had facial surgery, a SMAS facelift simply wasn’t going to give me the result I wanted. He believed I needed a deep plane facelift instead.

Now fortunately, I already knew the difference. A deep plane facelift is a more extensive procedure that works on the deeper facial structures rather than simply tightening the surface layers. To be honest, I wasn’t shocked. Part of me had suspected that might be the recommendation. So I wasn’t disappointed. I was actually relieved.

Because the last thing I wanted was a surgeon telling me what I wanted to hear. I wanted a surgeon telling me what I needed to hear.

Then we started discussing my eyes. I was also planning a lower blepharoplasty. Interestingly, he explained exactly why the lower blepharoplasty I’d previously had in Australia hadn’t delivered the result I’d hoped for. For the first time, someone sat down and clearly explained what had been done, what hadn’t been done, and what would need to happen to achieve a better outcome. Suddenly things started making sense.

The recommendation wasn’t simply another lower blepharoplasty. It was a lower blepharoplasty combined with a mid-face lift to properly support the area beneath the eyes and create a more harmonious result.

And this is where things start happening that nobody really talks about. You arrive with one plan. Then a specialist who performs these procedures every day starts assessing your face and body. You begin discussing options. Possibilities. Improvements. Corrections. And before long, you’re having conversations you never expected to have.

I don’t necessarily think it’s upselling. I think it’s more that once you’re there, having an honest discussion with someone who specialises in these procedures, opportunities naturally present themselves. You start asking questions. “What about this?” “What could be done here?” “What would you recommend?”

And that’s exactly what happened to me. Because sitting quietly in the back of my mind was something else entirely. My tummy. Or more specifically, the two tummy tucks I’d already had in Australia that had left me deeply disappointed. I had absolutely no intention of having another tummy tuck. None whatsoever. In fact, I’d sworn I never would.

But as the conversation continued, I found myself asking a simple question. “What could actually be done about it?”