I glanced out the window as the sun set over the property. My husband, Jim, 66, was feeding the kangaroos outside.
Since the crippling drought took hold a few years earlier, we'd been giving wallabies and roos what we could each day.
Because of this, Jim and I were known around the region as the 'kangaroo whisperers'.
As I sat down inside, I heard an almighty roar come from Jim.
Panic washed over me as I looked up to see an eastern grey buck kick Jim in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
I raced outside, grabbing the kitchen broom as a weapon on the way out.
"Stop it," I bellowed as I jumped between them and brandished my broom at the mongrel.
But he wasn't interested, and kicked me to the ground like a ragdoll.
The huge roo then started laying into me, too.
"Get off," I screamed as kicks and scratches tore up my skin.
As I took the pounding, Jim tried to get back to the house to call for help, but his glasses had been knocked off and he was disoriented.
I stumbled to my feet, bleeding top to toe, and held the roo's paws, looking in his eyes and begging him to stop.
But he took another shot at me. He wasn't going to stop until I was dead.
Just as I was about to surrender, our son Sonny, 41, raced outside and let out a menacing growl at the roo.
But it kicked him to the ground too, and then turned back to me.
"No! Stop!" I pleaded with the animal.
Desperate, and fearing I'd die, I crawled with all my might to a nearby plank of wood and tossed it to Sonny.
It was excruciating.
"Don't hit him too hard," I said.
Despite the beast's savage attack, I didn't want to kill him.
Sonny gave the buck a whack to the head and he bounced off into the trees.
Struggling to breathe, I looked down at my injuries. I was a bloodied mess!
"Call the ambulance, Sonny," I said as I lay on the floor, gasping for air.
Paramedics airlifted me to Toowoomba Hospital where doctors revealed I had three broken ribs, a lacerated liver, a collapsed lung and huge gashes to my thighs, breasts and head.
"You're lucky to be alive," the doctor said.
I know kangaroos are wild animals but I never thought one of my little mates would try to murder me.
I spent two weeks in hospital recovering before returning home. Jim and Sonny were bruised from head to toe too.
It's taken more than a year to heal from the attack, and I even needed more surgery to clear out my wounds.
I wrote a book about the ordeal called Peacock White, a science fiction novel that touches on our struggles in the outback.
Now, when the kangaroos come to the house, we're more cautious of the bigger fellas.
During the incident, my life flashed before my eyes. Now I have a second chance at life, I won't miss it.
I even get to tell the grandkids that I took on a boxing kangaroo and won.