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- When Kerrie McDonald, 53, from Wellington, SA, was loading sheep onto a trailer, she never expected to be fighting for her life hours later.
- Jumping off the back of the trailer, a little lamb rammed into her right leg at full speed.
- Within a few hours, the blunt force trauma had become an aggressive infection that was quickly spreading through her body.
- To save her life, docs had to amputate her legs.
Here Kerrie tells her story in her own words
Having a cuppa on our sun-soaked back verandah, I spotted a little lamb alone in the distance.
What are you doing so far away from your mum? I wondered.
Born just a week before on our sheep farm in Wellington, SA, I realised she’d been rejected and would need urgent care to survive.
‘Ouch, little love.’
Naming her Lamby, I took her to the house where she was bottle-fed three to four times a day.
She quickly became my little shadow, following closely everywhere I went.
And if my partner Kym, then 57, and I went away, Lamby came too.
A few months later, in May 2018, we were loading a small flock of sheep onto a trailer to relocate them to our second property, an hour away in Tungkillo.
Among the herd was Lamby, who had grown big and strong, and was ready to return to her pack.
Just then, Lamby, who was hoping for one last cuddle, jumped off the trailer and began charging towards me.
Ramming into my right leg at full speed, she took me by surprise.
‘Ouch, little love,’ I said, patting her before loading her back onto the trailer.
‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a soft tissue injury.’
Getting back to work, I didn’t think any more of it.
Later that night though, I felt unwell with a high temperature, headache, and extreme tiredness.
‘Something’s wrong,’ I told Kym, who drove me to emergency.
‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a soft tissue injury,’ I was told.
But by the time we got home, my temperature was so high it felt like I was on fire.
‘Please help me,’ I said to Kym, who drove me back to hospital.
That was the last thing I remember…
Coming to, I saw Kym and my mum, Wendy, then 70, by the side of my hospital bed.
‘Do you want me to make lamp chops?’ Kym joked.
‘You’re going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.’
Groggy and confused, I didn’t understand.
It wasn’t until a few days later that I learned from Kym how I’d been in a coma for eight weeks.
I’d developed necrotizing fasciitis – a rare, potentially fatal, flesh eating bacterial infection.
After I’d blacked out, I’d been transferred to the Royal Adelaide Hospital, and whisked into surgery.
Necrotizing fasciitis is a flesh-eating bacteria that occurs when bacteria invades the soft tissues of the body, releasing toxins and enzymes which can quickly multiply and cause blood clots. This leads to the death of the soft tissues that surrounds muscles, nerves, fat and blood vessels. One of the most common causes of the condition is Group A streptococcus bacteria – the same bacteria that causes strep throat and skin infections in people. It can enter the skin through cuts, lacerations, grazes, burns, insect bites, puncture wounds, and surgical wounds. Even blunt force trauma that does not break the skin can allow Strep A to enter the body.
What is the main cause of necrotizing fasciitis?
Bizarrely, doctors suspected it had been caused by the bump from Lamby getting infected, even though I hadn’t even noticed a cut or bruise.
‘They didn’t think you were going to make it,’ Mum sobbed, recounting how she and Kym had been told to say their goodbyes several times.
To save my life, docs had to amputate my right leg at the hip and three toes on my left foot.
Sadly, due to the amputation being so high up my right leg, I wasn’t able to be fitted with a basic prosthesis.
‘I can’t promise, but I’ll give it a good try.’
I couldn’t believe a bug had eaten my limb.
Mourning my loss, I made a vow not to let it ruin my life, though.
‘You’re going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life,’ doctors warned.
But I was determined to prove them wrong.
Early diagnosis and treatment of the condition is key. In intensive care, doctors will try and identify which organism is causing the infection and treat it with high-dose intravenous antibiotics. If the bacteria have killed too much tissue and reduced blood flow in the area, antibiotics may not be viable. In severe cases, doctors will surgically remove the limb to save the patient’s life. In some cases, amputations of one or more limbs may be necessary.
What is the survival rate of necrotizing fasciitis?
I spent six months in hospital, before moving to a rehab centre for another six months. It meant I had to give up my job as a primary school teacher.
Finally home 12 months after the accident, family and friends showered me with support.
Then my aunt, Lyn, 70, suggested I watch a TV interview with orthopaedic surgeon Professor Munjed Al Muderis.
He was a pioneer in osseointegration – a procedure where a titanium implant is inserted directly into the bone. It could then be connected straight to a robotic limb.
Booking an appointment with Professor Al Muderis in Sydney in January 2020, I told him my desire to ride my horse, Bella, again.
‘I can’t promise, but I’ll give it a good try,’ he said confidently.
However, to be able to walk again, I was going to have to say goodbye to my lower left leg too. I’d developed drop foot so had difficulty lifting it.
After the amputation in February 2021, a metal rod was inserted into the bone of my left leg.
Going home to recover, in May I returned to have osseointegration surgery on my right hip.
All I needed was a simple allen key to attach my robotic leg, which I could control with my muscle contractions. I even got a T-shirt with the slogan Assembly Required emblazoned on it as a laugh.
By early July, I was learning to take my first steps with the support of crutches.
‘This is a dream come true.’
Tears streaming down my face, I pressed one prosthetic foot in front of the other.
‘This is a dream come true,’ I smiled after a few steps.
Now five years since my accident, I’m still learning to walk again.
Riding around the farm on my scooter, I’m grateful for all the helping hands that got me here.
‘I couldn’t have done any of this without you,’ I remind Kym and my loved ones every chance I get.
To everyone’s surprise, earlier this year I even got back in the saddle!
I’m not angry at Lamby, now six, even though she took my limbs.
She still lives with us on the farm.
But I am more wary of her enthusiastic cuddles.
Despite losing both my legs, I’m living life to the fullest.
