One minute, Abby was heading out for a family lunch. The next, she was howling in pain in hospital…
As I got up and went into the kitchen, I heard the pitter-patter of paws behind me.
‘Ah, Ru!’ I laughed, looking down to see my chihuahua pup, who was merrily scampering around my feet.
I’d named my feisty fluffster after my favourite American drag queen, RuPaul.
Like most puppies, she was excitable and loved following me around and playing at my feet.
She was a sweet girl, and had settled right in at home with me and my partner.
Today, we’d brought Ru with us to my mother-in-law’s house, as a few of us, including my partner’s auntie and relatives, were heading out to a family lunch.
We were just on our way out when I decided to pop upstairs to get a jacket in case it got chilly.
As I climbed the stairs, I heard the scurry of paws, and wasn’t surprised that Ru, my little shadow, had followed me up.
Moments later, I’d taken only a couple of steps back downstairs when Ru ran down too, and darted in front of me.
'Just get up, you're fine'
As she was near my feet, I took hasty action to step over my pint-sized pup.
But as I went to put my foot down, I missed a step…
It all happened so quickly, there was no way of saving myself and I tumbled down the stairs.
I reached the bottom with a thud and, in shock, I glanced at my right foot.
To my horror, it was lying at an unnatural angle, as if it was hanging off.
But weirdly, I felt no pain.
Ru was padding around, oblivious, and seemed to have come out of the situation quite unscathed — unlike me!
‘Can someone help me?’ I cried out.
My partner and some of her relatives came to see what had happened.
‘Just get up, you’re fine,’ my partner said.
Feeling no pain, I thought maybe she was right, so I tried to stand.
But when I put pressure on my right foot, I felt a bolt of pain surge through it.
‘Ahhh!’ I screamed, feeling a crumbling sensation. ‘I don’t think I can.’
‘Maybe you’ve dislocated your foot?’ my partner’s auntie said.
I pulled myself up and hopped on my good foot into the lounge.
Maybe I've sprained my ankle, I thought.
It was clear something wasn’t right, so my partner’s auntie called for an ambulance.
When the paramedics arrived, I was put on gas and air, and whizzed off to A&E in an ambulance.
Because of the pandemic, no one was allowed to come with me.
Once in the hospital, the adrenaline must have worn off as I started shaking from the pain.
I was given morphine and taken for a X-ray.
‘I’ve got good news and bad news,’ a doctor said afterwards. ‘The good news is that you can go home.’
Then he paused.
‘The bad news is, you’ll have to come back in tomorrow, as you need surgery on your foot’ he said.
I couldn’t believe it as he told me I’d dislocated my foot and ankle in the fall.
I’d also torn the muscle in my leg and broken my pinky toe and two other toes in the process.
‘What happened to cause these injuries?’ the doctor asked.
My doctor couldn’t help but laugh when I told him what had happened — and that my tiny furry terror was the culprit!.
He couldn’t believe such a small dog had done so much damage.
‘We usually see people who play football or rugby with similar injuries,’ he said.
He told me I would have to have my foot popped back into place.
I was so scared by the thought of it that the doctor told me jokes until I was under anaesthetic.
Then, when I woke up, I looked down to see my leg in a cast.
I was thankful it had been popped back in without me knowing or feeling it.
I decided to stay in hospital until the operation, and after two days, I underwent surgery on the left side of my ankle.
Four screws were inserted to hold the ankle and foot together.
After the operation, I was mostly in and out of sleep.
‘I’m in so much pain,’ I told my partner.
Doctors thought the high level of pain I was in was unusual and investigated.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia — a long-term condition that causes pain over the body — which, in my case, was triggered by trauma from the fall.
After 10 days in hospital, I went home in a cast to recover.
As I walked into my house, it wasn’t long before Ru ran excitedly to greet me as I hadn’t seen her since the accident.
I knew it wasn’t her fault, and I was so glad to see her.
‘How’s my girl?’ I said, rubbing her belly.
'I can laugh about what happened'
I was stuck upstairs recovering and after eight weeks, the cast was removed.
Then I had to walk with a boot on, and after four months, I was relieved when that was finally taken off.
‘Be careful of your shoe choices,’ a doctor advised me. ‘Your ankle is delicate and going over on it could lead to it snapping.’
I was warned against wearing high heels but luckily I wasn’t a big fan of them.
However, I got rid of the flimsy flip-flops I used to love wearing on holiday, and instead bought something more substantial that would support my foot.
I faced the challenge of getting used to walking again.
It was difficult.
I had a slight limp, and found I couldn’t walk far due to the bottom of my feet burning, and my ankle sometimes getting swollen.
Every time I returned home, raising my leg seemed to help ease the swelling. I also had numbness in my thigh due to muscle damage.
I used to love going to concerts and having a dance, but now I was forced to buy seated tickets because I couldn’t stand up for a long time.
I still loved playing with Ru, but when she scurried around my feet, I made sure to take my time moving around her and be extra careful, especially on the stairs.
Two years later, I met with an orthopaedic doctor to see if my ankle had got better or worse.
When I moved my ankle from left to right, it clicked, which I was told wasn't a good sign.
‘You’re also likely to have arthritis in your ankle in the future,’ he said. ‘So one day, you’ll need your ankle fused to your foot.’
While I learnt that the fusion would stop any pain and swelling that came from having arthritis, I felt disheartened to hear it meant I’d have no movement in my foot.
I wasn’t in any pain then, so I hoped I wouldn’t need to have the procedure any time soon.
At first, I was upset at the thought of never having full movement in my right foot ever again, all because of my petite pooch.
But now, enough time has passed that I can laugh about it.
Let’s just say, I don’t Ru the day that my rascal caused me to fall down those stairs anymore!
Abby Hay, 28, Edinburgh