IN THE DOG HOUSE
Abby Hay, 29, from Dalkeith, took a tumble that changed her life forever…
Walking through my home, a pitter patter of little paws were right behind me. Pouncing at my feet, my Chihuahua puppy Ru wanted to play.
Named after Ru Paul, Ru was a cheeky girl and loved chasing my feet as I walked through the house.
Going down on her front paws, she would yap excitedly at your feet.
But I adored her.
I’d always grown up around dogs – but they were always bigger breeds like French Mastiffs, and I’d wanted a cute Chihuahua since I was a little girl. My parents had always said no though – a Chihuahua would be too small around our bigger dogs.
But in October 2019, my partner Sarah, 34, and I were looking for a dog of our own and came across a litter of Chihuahua puppies through a friend on Facebook.
Ru was the last one and she was perfect.
Attached to my hip, Ru followed me everywhere.
And by 27 June 2020, at eight months old, Ru was still my shadow.
With lockdown easing slightly, me, Sarah, my aunty Linda, 61, mother-in-law Meg, 68, sister Shauna, 48, and her son Fraser, 12, planned to go to a café together for the afternoon.
‘I’m just going to grab a jumper,’ I said, heading upstairs – despite it being summer, Scottish weather was always unpredictable. ‘Come on, Ru.’
Ru had her crate up in my room and while I’d never leave her in there for longer than an hour or two, it would stop her chewing while we were out.
Running up the stairs, Ru was right behind me.
And as I was moving quite quickly, I think Ru thought I wanted to play.
When I turned to head back down the stairs, Ru must have escaped from the crate – she darted in front of me, pouncing at my feet as she normally would to play.
Only, she’d never tried to play on the stairs before.
As Ru was the same size as a bag of sugar, we always tried to be super careful around her, not wanting to step on her and accidentally hurt her.
Only as I shifted my right foot to step over her, Ru moved in front of me again.
As I tried to reach past Ru to the next step, I had misjudged the distance.
Before I knew it, I was tumbling down the stairs.
In the blink of an eye, I’d fallen down 16 steps.
Landing on my right foot, at first, I couldn’t feel anything –
I had too much adrenaline.
Having heard the commotion, Sarah came in to to check on me.
Ru was so frightened by the noise that she’d already ran off into the living room.
‘Get up,’ Sarah said. ‘Come on, you’re fine Abby.’
‘No, something doesn’t feel right,’ I winced.
‘Sarah, Abby’s foot looks like it’s hanging off the side,’ Linda agreed, followed by Shauna and Fraser.
Attempting to stand, hot pain seared through me.
Putting any weight on my right side felt like pushing my hand into a bag of flour – I just completely crumpled.
And my bones made a horrible squishing noise, like scrunching a plastic bag, that made me feel sick.
‘Oh my God, what have I done?’ I cried.
‘You’ll have sprained it, you’ll be fine,’ my family tried to reassure me, as I used Sarah and Shauna to hop into the sitting room.
And making it to the sofa, we decided to call 999.
‘I don’t even want to look at you,’ I fumed at Ru as the call went through.
Explaining what had just happened, the operator said to keep my ankle raised and to try and stay calm.
And I can’t really remember anything until the ambulance crew arrived.
Using a special bag with magnetic beads to keep my leg straight, the crew also gave me gas and air for the pain. Ru
growled at the paramedics as they came through the door, but they were in good spirits.
‘You wouldn’t think you’ve just taken a flight down the stairs,’ they said. ‘We normally see this sort of injury with rugby players and car accidents – not a Chihuahua.’
I was blue-lighted to Glasgow Royal Infirmary, but because of Covid restrictions I had to go on my own.
I was panicking and the gas and air was making me feel worse.
I would go from being as high as a kite on cloud nine to quickly crashing down to earth, in a constant cycle.
Taken through to resus, I was shaking so much that doctors were concerned I might end up having a seizure.
‘We’re going to give you some ketamine for the pain,’ a doctor told me.
‘But you give that to horses,’ I moaned, feeling confused and out of it. ‘People snort that, don’t they?’
My leggings were cut off and I was taken for an X-ray.
It turned out I had dislocated my foot and ankle, broken three toes, scraped my skin off and broken my ankle and leg in three places – all on my right side.
‘We’re shocked the bone wasn’t poking through,’ the doctors said. ‘We’re going to have to manipulate your leg in place and you will need an operation.’
‘What, like in Casualty?’ I asked.
I was given some more ketamine to put me to sleep and then doctors snapped my leg back into place.
Waking up, I had emergency plaster forming a cast all up my leg.
I just couldn’t believe it.
I was known for being clumsy, but had never had a fall like this.
It was just my luck that it had happened when I was carefully trying to step over a tiny dog!
On Tuesday 30 June, I was taken down to theatre for my operation.
I spent three hours under the knife and my surgeon was fantastic.
I needed two long brackets on my femur bone, two screws on my ankle and a bolt, too.
In total I spent two weeks in hospital, spending a few extra days to learn how to use crutches as well.
I was even diagnosed with fibromyalgia, too – doctors told me it is often triggered by trauma on the body.
And getting home in a cast, I was stuck living upstairs for six weeks.
With Ru keeping me company, I had forgiven her – I knew it wasn’t her fault and she’s very lucky she’s so cute.
Orthopaedics came round to help me with the stairs, but for a long time I found it easier to scoot down on my bum.
I even had a little bell to ring whenever
I needed something! Going in for checkups, the staff would always ask about Ru. ‘Is the dog alive? Have you rehomed her?’ they’d joke. ‘No, she’s all good,’ I’d laugh.
To this day, I’m in a lot of pain and can’t walk too far.
But I always try to look on the bright side. And it has even become a running joke when I’m drinking with my friends. But it’s good to laugh about it.
I want to thank the NHS for the care I received – they really were incredible. And Ru, now four, is as cheeky as ever. With hip problems of her own – something very common in Chihuahuas – we make a right pair.
Aside from growling at the postie, she’s brilliant and a very pampered pooch.
‘Do you feel bad?’ I like to ask her.
But I know it wasn’t her fault – she wasn’t in the dog house for long.
Ru may have made a dog’s dinner out of my ankle, but I can never stay mad at those puppy dog eyes.
I was as high as a kite on cloud nine