Scarred for life
I felt the teeth sink into my face...
Turning up the music, I danced around the living room while my little sister sang into her hair straighteners. ‘I wish I sounded like you!’ Sophie-lee, 14, then sighed.
It was Boxing Day last year, and my baby sister Sophie-lee had come over to visit. We loved dancing and singing together.
My voice always surprised people. I’m only 4ft 10in, but at karaoke, I’d choose all the power ballads by Celine, Whitney and Mariah.
I’d see everyone’s shock as I hit the big notes!
Later that evening, I walked Sophie-lee home before making my way back to my place.
I was just a few minutes away when I turned a corner and saw a lady walking a Great Dane/staffordshirebull terrier-cross.
I liked dogs, but I felt a bit wary. And it wasn’t on a lead. Suddenly, the dog hurtled towards me. I sucked in my breath. It’s going to attack! I realised, panicking. But I was frozen to the spot. The dog launched at me, its huge jaws latching onto the bottom half of my face.
Pain exploded as its teeth sank into my chin.
Shaking me like a rag doll, the beast dragged me to the ground.
With a surge of adrenaline, I somehow found the strength to prise its jaws apart.
But as I did, I heard a sickening rip.
The owner had dashed over, and was now pulling the dog back by its collar.
Instinctively, my hand flew to my face.
My chin’s hanging off!
I realised, horrified.
‘Help me!’ I slurred. ‘Call an ambulance!’
I could hardly speak as blood poured from the wound, soaking my clothes and hair.
In shock, I lay on my back feeling weak.
Another lady, who’d come running over to me, held my hand.
‘You’re going to be OK,’ she soothed. But my head spun. How could I be OK? I thought.
My face had been ripped in two!
I was rushed to the Royal Adelaide Hospital and straight into theatre.
Surgeons stitched up my wounds.
But the dog’s teeth had ruptured my jugular vein and I’d almost bled to death.
‘It’s a miracle you’re alive,’ the surgeon said.
I was too shocked and traumatised to take it in.
The next morning, I had another operation.
This time, surgeons built me a new chin using a tendon, skin graft and muscle from my right arm. After, I didn’t dare look at it. But a couple of days later, I caught a glimpse of my face in a teaspoon. It looked a swollen, bloody mess
It’s not a true reflection,
I told myself. My chin was distorted in the spoon, like a fun-house mirror. But soon after, I was washing my hands in the bathroom, when I looked up and accidentally saw myself in the mirror. I gasped in horror, before immediately bursting into tears. It hadn’t been the spoon. My face was that distorted. My chin was hugely swollen, with 200 stitches running up either side. I only had one tooth left and
no bottom lip. ‘I don’t even look like me,’ I sobbed. When Sophie-lee and my brother David, 17, visited, I could see their shock. ‘You look like an extra from a horror film,’ David gasped. ‘I’ll take that on the chin!’ I joked. Desperate to show I hadn’t lost my sense of humour. ‘I know it’s scary,’ I added. ‘But I’m still me.’ Our dad had passed away when they were young, and I felt protective. Wanted them to know I was OK. But when I was discharged after two weeks, it was hard to stay positive. I’m hideous, I thought. What would my future be like? Would I ever find someone to love me, looking like this?
Then, days later, the wound got infected and I ended up back in hospital.
‘You’re beautiful inside and out,’ a nurse told me.
I couldn’t see it, though. Then I got chatting to another patient about singing.
‘OK, let’s hear you,’ she said. I was nervous. With my injuries, I didn’t know if I could still sing.
Others encouraged me, too, so I began a rendition of Celine Dion’s Think Twice.
They were stunned – just like they used to be at karaoke. My confidence soared. A crowd gathered on the ward and started to applaud.
It gave me the boost I desperately needed.
I can’t let the attack define me, I realised.
From then, I vowed to get back on stage. After 10 days, I was discharged again.
Now, six months on, I’m still coming to terms with what happened to me.
I still have deep scars on the left-hand side of my face.
I have nightmares about dogs running towards me...and I’m still facing more surgery, including some to build me a new lip. I’ll need dentures, too. I found out the lady was only looking after the dog.
I’ve forgiven her – I had to in order to move on.
But the owner faces a $10,000 fine (around £5,500), and the dog has been put down.
Every day I walk past the spot where it happened and it’s a reminder I’m still here.
Although that dog almost killed me, I won’t let it kill my spirit.
And before you know it, I’ll be back on stage, belting out a tune.
Would I find someone to love me looking like this?