A shocking epilogue for The Co-Captain's Log

What are the odds? 1 in 11.5 million

“Even on the toughest days, I’ve thought, ‘Well at least I have a story to tell in the next Co-Captain’s Log!’’

The last line of “The Co-Captain’s Log” (available for pre-order in September) came to mind this morning as I lay bleeding on the St. Augustine beach, surrounded by lifeguards.  

It was a gorgeous morning for a swim:  Hot sun.  Warm water.  Waves big enough to be fun without being scary.   My sister, Anne Marie, is here in St. Augustine for a long weekend so I dragged her out on the boogie boards for a quick swim in the Atlantic.

We’d been swimming for 30 minutes when we decided it was time to return to the beach.   Anne Marie was a couple of feet in front of me, both our legs kicking from the back of the boards, when I feel the bear trap clamp down around my foot.

Writhing around in shock, I look behind me and see the shark’s fin at my feet.  

Ever wonder which of the “fight or flight” instincts you have?  You’ll know quickly if you ever encounter a shark.

The shark wasn’t gonna let me flee in peace, so I kicked and I kicked and I kicked like a bucking bronco.

Finally, I felt the pressure release from my foot.  

“Help!”  I yelled to Anne Marie who had turned around, confused by my thrashing in the water.  “I just fought off a shark.”

“Help!”  “Help!”  We start crying wildly to the people walking on the beach.  “Call 911!”  “Help!  Call 911!”  

They stop to stare at us but don’t move to the call Beach Rescue.  

“Help!  Call 911!” We continue to shout as we swim as fast as we can, my bloody foot trailing behind me.

Anne Marie has almost reached the shore when a surfer paddles up to me. 

“What’s wrong?”  

“I just got attacked by a shark.”

“Okay, let’s get you to shore.”  He latches one arm on my boogie board and starts to swim us both to the beach.  

I reach the bare sand and catch a glimpse of my bloody left foot.  It’s not 100 percent clear, given all the blood, but I think I count all 10 toes.

Our welcoming party was waiting on the beach.  One lady was finally on the line with 911.  Another lady helped me to lie down and stick my left foot in the air so she could wrap her beach towel around it to slow the bleeding.

Faster than you can say “Baywatch,” a truck full of lifeguards drove up to help.  The seasoned lifeguard directed the triage while the three junior lifeguards obeyed his every order with noticeable excitement.  What a way to start a Monday morning!

I knew it was serious but not too serious when the seasoned lifeguard gave me the choice, “Do you want to go to the ER in the ambulance or your own car?”

Which is worse to receive:  a shark bite or the bill for an ambulance ride?  Feeling traumatized enough for one day, I called Andrés so he could take me to the hospital

Turns out, a shark bite gets your priority status in the ER and I was whisked in to see the doctor immediately.  She gave me great news:  All 10 toes are still connected.  No fractures and no apparent damage to the tendons or nerves.   

Eleven (painful and awkward-looking) sutures later, she promised I’d be fully recovered in 7-10 days.  There may not even be a scar, though I admit I’m hoping to have one, even if a tiny one.  For now, it just looks like a shark thought my left toes would make a delicious breakfast.

Who would have thought—after all the swimming with sharks I’ve just done in the Pacific—I got bit in my own backyard.  

The pain meds have kicked in, but it still feels unbelievable.  I mean, who else do you know who’s been attacked by a shark?  

I googled the odds of being attacked by a shark:   1 in 11.5 million.  With those odds, I plan to buy a lottery ticket tonight.

Katherine

P.S. The Co-Captain’s Log, featuring stories of sharks, whales, and other adventures like this one, will be available for pre-order in September.  Stay tuned to learn how you can get your special edition copy.

P.P.S. For you brave readers, I’m posting a pic on Instagram @CoCaptainsLog