Ten months ago I almost died. Not from an illness or a terrible accident, but because I desperately wanted to improve what I thought was a physical “defect.”
Wanting a bigger, more lifted bottom, I had a type of non-surgical beauty treatment known as a Brazilian Butt Lift, or BBL.
I didn’t realize that BBL – which involves injecting dermal filler into the bottom – is notoriously dangerous. I’m still fine, thinking about how close I came to leaving my children – Amelia, 11, and Jack, nine – motherless in the pursuit of perfection.
In September, British mother-of-five Alice Webb died after BBL. Her story surprised me: it could have been me.
You’re probably asking why I – a 38-year-old mother with a loving partner – would pay for this dangerous “enhancement”.
The truth is that I had spent many years unhappy with my appearance. At about 12, I noticed a bump on my nose that I wish I could smooth out.
Maybe it was just the usual teenage angst, but my resentment continued 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 teaching makeup and beauty skills.
Ten months ago, Claire Johnson almost died after a Brazilian Butt Lift. He didn’t realize the procedure was notoriously dangerous
After having children in my twenties, I struggled with my postpartum body, developing what I believe was a form of body dysmorphia. I hated my breasts, felt like they had lost their volume and thought surgery was the only solution.
So, six years ago, I booked surgery and had my breasts enlarged from a 28D to a 28F. It cost me £2,900 and I was very pleased with the results.
That meant I wanted more. Two years later, I had a nose job, plus liposuction on my legs, back and waist – a ‘two for the price of one’ deal for £5,000. I then had another breast operation, going from a 28F to a 28G.
Each time I got better and, honestly, I liked the results. So when I heard about treatments to lift your bottom, I started researching. I always felt like my bottom lacked volume and shape.
There are different types of BBL. I knew I didn’t want to have a “fat transfer” as that would mean putting on weight in order to create fat that would be injected into my bottom.
I didn’t want implants either, as I had heard too many horror stories about them rupturing.
The most economical treatment seemed to be 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 careful not to go overseas, where it is often cheaper, but more things can go wrong. However, looking back, I realize I didn’t do basic security checks, such as researching the practitioner’s qualifications and experience. I chose a cosmetic clinic that I had been to before for lip, jowl and cheek fillers.
This clinic’s social media is always full of sales (which should probably raise alarm bells). In January this year, I spotted an offer for BBL and contacted them via Instagram, saying I wanted ‘volume and exposure’. A week later, I drove three hours to London for a consultation.
There, an advanced beautician – not a doctor – told me I would need 400ml of filler. Anyway, they said, and it wouldn’t be noticeable. It would cost over £4,000.
I have since found out that this is an excessive amount of filler and is not safe at all. One of the body’s largest blood vessels is located in this area, so the more fat or filler that is injected, the greater the risk that it can enter this vessel and cause embolism (blockage) and even death.
Infection rates are also much higher with this treatment than other fillers – but I wasn’t told any of that. They were the experts and I trusted them.
Admittedly I was surprised when they told me they could do the procedure on the same day, but I decided to go for it – a rash decision that I now bitterly regret.
They said the procedure was “painless”, but the doctor gave me an injection of lidocaine – a form of local anesthetic – which made me feel groggy. Twice she interrupted the procedure to give me glucose tablets to stop the dizziness and to administer more pain medication.
The moment it was over, I saw something was wrong. My bottom looked like too much filler had been put in and the skin was bunching up. I was told it was “normal” but I shouldn’t drive for more than an hour.
The clinic knew I was coming from Hertfordshire and I started to panic. How would I get home? I decided to risk it and take regular breaks along the way.
I can’t describe the pain on this trip – much worse than after my two c-sections.
When I got home, my bottom was shaking with anxiety. I contacted the clinic, asking if I could have some ibuprofen and even a glass of wine, to take the edge off. I have since found out that you should not take ibuprofen, aspirin or any anti-inflammatory medication after the procedure as it can cause more bruising. Apparently wine isn’t a good idea either.
They said yes to both.
That night, I barely slept. The next day, I was in so much pain that I had to come home early from work and lay on my front. I had a temperature and the sores were red and angry. When I contacted the clinic the receptionist said this was ‘normal’.
Claire developed sepsis and had to undergo surgery to cut out the dying tissue
For four days, I endured excruciating pain. Sunday morning I removed the bandages and realized something was wrong. One of the small incisions where the filler had been placed was infected and weeping. I took a photo and sent it to the clinic but was told once again that it was “normal”.
I didn’t believe them and said I needed antibiotics. Only then did the intern herself get in touch, promising to get me antibiotics within two days.
My partner Steven was really worried by this point and insisted I go to the hospital. Still not sure if I should try to get rid of the pain, I decided to contact Kate Ross – a key aesthetic nurse (and owner of The Clinic by La Ross) that I knew through my work in the beauty industry. He runs post-surgery clinics for people who have had trouble with cosmetic treatments.
He immediately said I needed to go to A&E. It was a decision that probably saved my life.
Steven took me to our local A&E but the staff told us to go to Lister Hospital, outside Stevenage in Hertfordshire.
The doctors at Lister immediately suspected sepsis and I was suddenly terrified that I was going to die. I felt a knot in my stomach at the thought of my children – how would they get by without me?
Doctors took blood samples to check for infection and inserted a tube to administer antibiotics.
I was told that safe indicators for infection should be between five and ten – mine was 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 then I could barely walk and was taken to the ward in a wheelchair, still in excruciating pain.
The plastic surgeon said the wound looked “necrotic” – meaning my flesh was literally dying. The next day, under general anaesthetic, I had surgery to cut out the dying tissue, during which I was told my infection markers rose to 600.
When I woke up, I was upset and in a lot of pain. I had taped ostomy bags to the wounds which were quickly filling with infected fluid. It was horrible. The surgeon kept saying that I should be “nil by mouth” in case I needed another operation.
My kids stayed with my mom while Steven worked. I couldn’t face them – I didn’t want them to know how sick I was.
Steven was also upset. He knew I had the BBL, but neither of us thought it was a big deal. He could not believe that he had caused me so much pain and danger to my health.
The mother-of-two says she will never have a job again as she wants to set a good example for her daughter
I was able to leave the hospital after a week, but nine days later – during a check-up – they discovered the superbug MRSA in my blood, so I was readmitted.
After that I was allowed to go home, but kept on an IV drip for two weeks and antibiotics for three.
For those three weeks I still had pouches attached, collecting the fat and filler that oozed out of my bottom. I also lost weight – dropping from 7st 11lb to 7st 2lb (I’m only 5ft 2in).
Today, I have healed – but I will always have the emotional and physical scars. I feel terrible guilt about what happened. When I think about it, I feel sick. I could have died and I would no longer be someone’s mom, partner or daughter.
I still have bumps and lumps – a large scar on my right cheek that I have covered with a tattoo and some scars on my left. But at least I’m alive.
I tried to get a lawyer involved at one point – I feel the clinic failed in their duty of care – but since I can’t prove where the infection came from, I’ve been told I have no case. Despite the well-documented dangers of BBL, it is still legal.
I messaged the clinic asking for a refund and they sent me threatening letters saying I shouldn’t slander them. However, I was refunded the full amount for the treatment and I think that is some kind of admission of guilt.
As for me, I will never do anything to my body again. I still struggle, I feel bad about how I look, but instead of having more surgery, I’m doing therapy to try and 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.”
If I can prevent even one woman from going through what I went through – and possibly leaving behind a grieving family – then my story is worth telling.
