- When Shelley Puchalsky, 41, set out on a dog walk, she never expected to end up in hospital.
- But after tripping over her pup, Shelley fell face first into the gravel, leaving her with shocking injuries.
- She contracted an infection which led to her bone infection in her skull called osteomyelitis and sepsis.
- Now nearly six years on from the fall, the left side of her face is permanently paralysed.
Here Shelley tells her story in her own words.
Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I loaded the kids and our shih tzu dog, Chloe, into the car for the morning school run.
After walking my boys, Jackson, then 10, and Roman, eight, to their classrooms, I gave them one last cuddle.
‘Have a beautiful day,’ I said.
It was September 2019, the sun was shining and I had the day off work as a real estate agent.
Already in my activewear, I decided to do something I loved – go for a run with Chloe.
Arriving at the local park 10 minutes from home, I pulled into my usual spot and, after fastening Chloe’s lead, set off running.
As my feet pounded the dirt trail, Chloe happily trotted along beside me.
We’d been jogging for around 20 minutes when Chloe suddenly got spooked by a rustle in the bushes and ran for safety between my legs.
In my attempt not to step on her, I lost my footing and plummeted face first into the gravel.
It happened so quickly I couldn’t put my hands down in time to break my fall.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I looked around for help, but no-one was near.
As if to say ‘sorry’, Chloe stood next to me with her tail between her legs.
‘I’m okay, girl,’ I said.
Rolling over, I sat up to inspect my injuries.
My hands, arms and legs had a few scrapes but nothing serious.
That’s when I noticed a warm sticky liquid gushing down my face.
I cradled my forehead with one hand, which quickly pooled with blood.
Finding my feet, I picked up Chloe’s lead and made my way back to the car where I texted my fiancé, David, then 56.
I’ve had a little fall, I’m going to get cleaned up at hospital, I wrote.
Pulling down the sun visor, I jumped when I saw the extent of my injuries.
Blood poured from the gash in my forehead, and I’d also ripped a patch of skin off my nose.
This is really bad, I thought.
Making a quick dash home, I put Chloe inside before driving myself to the emergency room.
A nurse cleaned my wounds and sealed them with 20 stitches before I was sent on my way.
While I didn’t have any scans, the nurse assured me I hadn’t broken anything.
‘Try to keep the stitches clean and dry,’ she said.
Leaving work early, David met me at home.
‘I’m glad you’re okay,’ he soothed.
At the hospital a week later, a nurse removed my stitches.
But the gash had doubled in size, was oozing yellow pus and had turned black.
‘That doesn’t look right,’ I said to the nurse.
‘It will heal in its own time,’ she explained.
As days passed though, the wound grew bigger, more inflamed and was incredibly painful to touch.
Getting a second opinion on my injuries, I spoke to another doctor who didn’t seem concerned.
Feeling so self-conscious of my confronting appearance, I wore oversized hats, wigs and sunnies to cover up.
I also limited my outside time to early morning or late evening for fear I’d be seen.
‘You’re beautiful just the way you are,’ David comforted.
But aware of how my self-esteem had been impacted, he suggested I seek advice from a plastic surgeon.
So tracking one down, I booked a consultation.
‘Let’s do a skin graft,’ the surgeon decided.
Wheeled in for surgery three days later, in October 2019, I was terrified but excited to have my face back to normal.
Taking healthy skin from behind my left ear, the surgeon grafted it over the 5c-coin-sized hole in my nose, and stitched my forehead closed.
Waking up in recovery a few hours later, I felt a piercing pain shoot through my forehead, and the left side of my face was paralysed.
‘Things will start to calm down in a few days,’ the surgeon said.
But after I was discharged and the days passed, my skin smelled like it was dying.
My surgery scars had become so infected, my skin was falling off in chunks.
By six weeks post op, I had a mango-sized hole in my forehead, about three millimetres deep, and I could see the bone.
The plastic surgery had totally botched up my face.
Hiding at home as the infection worsened, I began losing weight and struggled to climb a flight of stairs without puffing.
The infection was eating through my skin and hairline.
I also had a spot on my nose with no skin on it. My face was literally falling off my skull.
In September 2020 I returned to hospital where doctors took skin from my left thigh and grafted it to my forehead.
Back at hospital again in early 2021, an MRI scan revealed a terrifying diagnosis.
‘You have osteomyelitis,’ a doctor said.
Osteomyelitis is a serious bone infection caused by bacteria or fungi. It can occur when an infection spreads from nearby tissue or through the bloodstream to the bone. Common symptoms include bone pain, fever, swelling, redness, and fatigue. Osteomyelitis can affect any bone but most often occurs in the long bones of the arms and legs or the spine. It is more common in people with diabetes, weakened immune systems, or open wounds. Early diagnosis through imaging and lab tests is critical to prevent permanent damage. Treatment typically includes antibiotics, and in some cases, surgery may be needed to remove infected tissue. Chronic osteomyelitis can be difficult to treat and may require long-term care. Prompt medical attention improves outcomes and reduces complications.
What is osteomyelitis?
This meant the bone in my skull had become infected with bacteria I’d contracted through my open wound.
A bug was eating my face! It’d developed into sepsis so I’d need intensive antibiotics.
I was rushed in for emergency surgery a week later where surgeons sliced my forehead from ear to ear, flushed out the infection and reworked the skin grafts.
Miraculously, the infection stopped spreading, though I remained on antibiotics for four months.
Now nearly six years on from my fall, the left side of my face is permanently paralysed.
The infection has left me with indented patches on my forehead and an open wound on my scalp.
I’m hoping to undergo reconstructive surgery to fix my disfigured face before David and I tie the knot.
Though it has taken me time to come to terms with my scars, David and my boys, now 16 and 14, remind me how lucky I am to be alive.
