The skies were ordinarily blue, the waves were nothing but normal, I guessed it was a routine of this expedition. I suit-up in my scuba diving kits, prepared to jump into the ocean to carry out my duties.
Nothing particularly stood out at that day, no sharks were visible in the vicinity, no threats of an impending stormy weather, no signs of violent waves, it was purely ordinary. I got the usual pat from my team to take care.
Submerging into the ocean, focusing at the job at hand. I was drifting further away from the boat. Everything was the same, it was routine. I did not realise until a slight sign of premonition hinted at the corner of my eyes.
I did not have the time to ignore or to react to it. A shark sprang out of the dark blue sea, chomped on one of my arms and one of my legs. Blood was pouring out into the ocean, staining it crimson black. My heart pounded harder as ever to generate the immediate fight-and-flight response.
Choosing flight as my priority, I struggled, quivered, and the shark released me, miraculously. One of my arms were gone, part of my leg is torn apart, pain was numbing my consciousness, blurring my eyesight.
Swim. North. My instincts kicked in, as a prey fleeing its predator. I paddled myself as hard as possible, did not choke under sheer pressure, I just pushed myself closer and closer to the boat with my life hanging by a thread. The trail of blood was tailing me, leaving strings of my unawareness in the ocean.
The shark was circling below me, I kept swimming.
Circling, swimming, praying, keep on swimming, bleeding, losing energy, blacking out.
I did not have enough capacity to think of the shark anymore, I just zeroed in my remaining energy in swimming. As I got closer to the boat, the shark circled more viciously under me, I could not help but to notice it, the pain was excruciating, terrifying at this point- hellish.
Inches away from a temporal safe haven, I vigorously pushed myself up for my team to get me out. The shark was getting closer, as if it wanted to hunt the remainder of me. The team scooped me out of the waters as quick as possible, no mistakes were allowed. I was thrown into the boat and instantly given medical attention.
The wait started, my blood was chucking out, the pain became more apparent. I was just glad that the shark went away. As soon as I woke up, I was in the hospital.
Paul survived the shark attack. He stood in front of death, shoved the middle finger into its face, proving that with absolute grit, he managed to live on with a single fine thread hanging to his life. Paul still hits the ocean as long as he stayed alive, and that experience made him do what he hated for life- public speaking, for a living.
That’s why Paul is a Bad. Ass. Mother. Fucker.
Post inspired by:
Casey Neistat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcM5JCGsw3c
Paul de Greder: https://www.instagram.com/pauldegelder/