I had a Brazilian bum lift and immediately knew something wasn’t right. I was in agony and the wounds were weeping… but it’s what happened next that was truly horrifying

Ten months ago I almost died. Not because of an illness or a terrible accident, but because I was desperate to correct what I thought was a physical ‘flaw’.

Wanting a bigger, more lifted butt, I underwent a type of non-surgical beauty treatment known as a Brazilian Butt Lift, or BBL.

I didn’t know that the BBL – where fillers are injected into the buttocks – is notoriously dangerous. It still makes me happy to think of how close I came to leaving my children – Amelia, eleven, and Jack, nine – without a mother in my pursuit of perfection.

In September, British mother-of-five Alice Webb died after a BBL. Her story surprised me: that could have been me.

You’re probably wondering why I – a 38-year-old mother with a loving partner – would pay for this risky “enhancement.”

The truth is, I was unhappy with my appearance for years. When I was about twelve, I noticed a bump on my nose that I wanted to smooth out.

Maybe it was just the usual teenage angst, but my dissatisfaction persisted into adulthood, even after I met my partner Steven, now 44, a carpenter. We live in Hertfordshire and in 2013 I set up an academy where I teach make-up and beauty skills.

After having children in my late 20s, I struggled with my postpartum body and developed what I thought was a form of body dysmorphia. I hated my breasts, felt like they had lost volume and believed surgery was the only solution.

So six years ago I booked surgery and had my breasts enlarged from 28D to 28F. It cost me £2,900 and I was very happy with the result.

It meant I wanted more. Two years later I had a nose job, plus liposuction of my legs, back and waist – a ‘two-for-the-price-of-one’ deal for £5,000. Then I had another breast operation, from a 28F to a 28G.

Each time I healed well and honestly I loved the results. So when I heard about treatments to lift your butt, I started researching. I always felt like my buttocks lacked volume and shape.

There are different types of BBL. I knew I didn’t want to do ‘fat transfer’ because that would mean gaining weight to create fat that would be injected into my buttocks.

I also didn’t want implants because I had heard too many horror stories about them rupturing.

The most cost-effective treatment seemed to be a liquid filler – the kind they use on the face – injected into each buttock. The clinics I read about claimed this was safer too.

I thought I was being careful not to go abroad, where it is often cheaper, but more things can go wrong. But looking back, I realize I didn’t do basic safety checks like researching the practitioner’s qualifications and experience. I chose a cosmetic clinic I had been to before for lip, jaw and cheek fillers.

This clinic’s social media is always full of discounts (something that perhaps should have raised alarm bells). In January this year I saw an offer for BBL and contacted them via Instagram saying I wanted ‘volume and projection’. A week later I drove three hours to London for a consultation.

There, an advanced aesthetic doctor – not a doctor – told me I needed 400 ml of filler. If it is less, they said, it would not be noticeable. It would cost more than €4,000.

I have since found out that this is an excessive amount of filler and not safe at all. One of the largest blood vessels in the body is in this area, so the more fat or filler injected, the greater the risk that it will enter this vessel and cause an embolism (a blockage) and even death.

The infection rate with this treatment is also much higher than with other fillers, but I was not told about this. They were the experts and I trusted them.

Although I was surprised when I was told they could perform the procedure the same day, I decided to go for it – a hasty decision that I now bitterly regret.

They said the procedure was “pain-free,” but the doctor gave me injectable lidocaine – a form of local anesthetic – which made me feel dizzy. Twice she stopped the procedure to give me glucose tablets to stop the dizziness and give me more painkillers.

As soon as she was done, I noticed something was wrong. My buttocks looked like too much filler had been put in and the skin was wrinkling. I was told it was ‘normal’, but I wasn’t allowed to drive for more than an hour.

The clinic knew I was coming from Hertfordshire and I panicked. How was I supposed to get home? I decided to take the risk and take regular breaks during the ride.

I can’t describe the pain during that trip – much worse than after my two C-sections.

By the time I got home, my bottom was throbbing in pain. I contacted the clinic and asked if I could take ibuprofen and even have a glass of wine to take the edge off. I have since discovered that you should not take ibuprofen, aspirin, or any anti-inflammatory medication after the procedure as this can cause more bruising. Wine is of course not a good idea either.

They said yes to both.

That night I hardly slept. The next day I was in so much pain that I had to come home from work early and lie on my stomach. I had a fever and the wounds were red and angry. When I contacted the clinic the receptionist said this was ‘normal’.

For four days I endured agonizing pain. On Sunday morning I removed the bandage and realized something was very wrong. One of the small incisions where they had inserted the filler was inflamed and weeping. I took a photo and sent it to the clinic, only to be told again that this was ‘normal’.

I didn’t believe them and said I needed antibiotics. Only then did the practitioner contact me and promised that she would give me antibiotics within two days.

My partner Steven was very concerned at this point and insisted I go to hospital. Still unsure whether I should try to push the pain away, I decided to contact Kate Ross – a lead aesthetic nurse (and owner of The Clinic by La Ross) who I knew through my work in the beauty industry. She runs post-operative clinics for people who have had problems with cosmetic treatments.

She immediately told me to go to the emergency room. It was a decision that probably saved my life.

Steven took me to our local A&E, but the staff told us to drive on to Lister Hospital, outside Stevenage in Hertfordshire.

The Lister’s doctors immediately suspected sepsis, and suddenly I was terrified that I was about to die. I felt a knot in my stomach at the thought of my children: how would they cope without me?

Doctors took blood samples to check for infection and inserted a cannula to administer antibiotics.

I was told that the safe markers for infection should be between five and ten – mine were 500. I was prepared for emergency surgery.

Steven went home to pick up some toiletries and clothes for me. When he came back, they wouldn’t let him stay – I was scared and lonely. By this time I could barely walk and was taken to the ward in a wheelchair, still in agonizing pain.

The plastic surgeon said the wound looked “necrotic,” meaning my flesh was literally dying. The next day I had surgery under general anesthesia to cut away the dying tissue, where I was told my infection markers had risen to 600.

When I woke up I was dizzy and in a lot of pain. I had ostomy bags attached to the wounds which quickly filled with infected fluid. It was terrible. The surgeon kept telling me to be ‘zero by mouth’ in case I needed another surgery.

My children stayed with my mother while Steven was at work. I couldn’t face them – I didn’t want them to know how sick I was.

Steven was angry too. He knew I had the BBL, but neither of us minded. He couldn’t believe it had caused so much pain and danger to my health.

After a week I was able to leave the hospital, but nine days later the superbug MRSA was discovered in my blood during a check-up, which caused me to be readmitted.

Then I was allowed to go home, but had to be on an IV for two weeks and antibiotics for three weeks.

During those three weeks, I still had ostomy bags attached, which caught the fat and filler that oozed out of my buttocks. I’ve also lost weight – from 7st 11lb to 7st 2lb (I’m only 6ft tall).

Today I am healed – but I will always carry the emotional and physical scars. I feel terribly guilty about what happened. Thinking about it makes me feel sick. I could have died and I would no longer be someone’s mother, partner or daughter.

I still have bumps and bumps – a large scar on my right buttock, which I covered with a tattoo, and some scarring on my left cheek. But at least I’m alive.

I did try to get a lawyer involved at one point – I feel the clinic failed in its duty of care – but because I can’t prove where the infection came from, I was told I don’t have a case. Despite the well-documented risks of BBL, it is still legal.

I messaged the clinic asking for a refund, and they sent me threatening letters telling me not to defame them. However, they refunded me the full amount for the treatment and I think this is an admission of guilt.

As for me, I will never have anything done to my body again. I still struggle and feel bad about the way I look, but instead of having more surgeries, I’m getting therapy to deal with it.

I want to set a good example for my daughter about respecting your body.

To other women who are tempted to try a BBL, I would say, ‘Don’t do it.’

If I can prevent even one woman from going through what I went through – and possibly leaving behind a grieving family – then it will be worth telling my story.