Shark Tales

I thought the beaches of Normandy, the Lake District of England and the Scottish Highlands were on the worldschooling agenda this summer. We were going to learn about D-Day and World War II, British Colonialism, the Jacobite rising and the battle of Culloden, tell stories of Scottish lore and maybe finally get a glimpse of the Loch Ness Monster.

But the universe had another plan.

On Mother’s Day, Jei, my ten-year-old, was attacked by a shark on Hilton Head Island, less than a week before our flight was scheduled to depart to London.

The day it happened, we were supposed to go fishing at Disney’s Hilton Head Island Resort. It was low tide and the boys couldn’t fish. So we decided to hit the beach instead for an hour or two. We weren’t even there a half hour when Jei came screaming out of the water, “Shark! Shark! A shark bit me!”

I was just about to tell him to stop messing around when I caught the look of sheer terror in his eyes. Then I looked at the arm he was holding up. There were holes in it, blood and flesh hanging off like messy strands of fabric. It didn’t look real.

“This isn’t real life. This isn’t real life. This isn’t real life.” He chanted like an eerie, self-soothing mantra. “Is this real life, mom?” He asked, pleading. “Am I dreaming? Wake me up!”

“This isn’t a dream. This is real life, baby,” my own voice was unrecognizably calm. It felt like something greater than me filled my body and took over, knowing exactly what to do. Time slowed down. Not only did it slow down. It got downright weird.

I took the clean towel I had just wrapped around my waist and wrapped up his arm, squeezing hard and channeling all of my intention and prayer into the pressure. Then we ran together toward the lifeguard stand through the sand together. I was frightfully aware that the white towel was quickly turning red with Jei’s blood.

In that long stretch of sand from shoreline to lifeguard stand, not a single person came toward us to help. Weren’t lifeguards supposed to be on the lookout for signs of danger and peril? Maybe I’ve watched too many movies, but I would have expected the people trained to keep the public safe on the beach to have sprung into action. I managed to get Jei out of the water, wrap his arm with a towel and run across the beach to get him to the lifeguard stand before the lifeguard had even managed to climb down from the stand or recognize there was a problem. Not to mention not address the throngs of children still playing in shark-infested waters still red with my child’s blood.

We arrived at the lifeguard stand, finally. “My son’s been bitten by a shark.” My voice was still strangely calm.

Blank eyes stared back at me.

“My son’s been bitten by a shark!” I repeated. “He needs to go to a hospital. CALL SOMEONE!” My tone grew more urgent. Panic started rising with bile in my throat. My mouth went dry. Every fiber in my being started trembling.

The lifeguard called someone on his mobile phone. Time slowed to a surreal, sluggish crawl.

“Is he going to be ok?” I asked, my voice shaky now. I don’t know who I was asking. Maybe God. I don’t know if I expected anyone to give me an answer. I just wanted someone to comfort me and give me reassurance. In that moment, no one answered.

Someone else showed up. Another guy with a phone. Who called someone else with a car to come and pick Jei up from the beach. Still no ambulance.

The towel I had wrapped around Jei’s arm was now completely blood-soaked and bright red. Chills of terror ran down my spine. He was losing a lot of blood. I squeezed instinctively.

“Do you have a tourniquet?” I asked the lifeguard and the other new guy who had come.

Blank stares again. “No,” the first lifeguard answered.

“Can’t you MAKE ONE?” I was exasperated. How does a lifeguard on a busy public beach not have a tourniquet? Jei was clearly losing a lot of blood.

The lifeguard took off his T-shirt and we wrapped it around Jei’s upper arm above his wound. I prayed silently it would slow down the flow of blood escaping his small body.

I held and kissed Jei and told him, “I love you” over and over and over again.

Jei kept asking, “When is the ambulance coming? I just want to get to the hospital.” Time ticked by so slowly. Painfully slowly.

I prayed that help would come. Finally, a rescue vehicle of some sort pulled up on the sand and drove us to the road where an ambulance, fire truck and a handful of EMTs awaited. They removed the towel and looked at the wound. Then one of them pulled me aside.

“We’re going to have to transport him to a trauma center at Savannah Memorial. Hilton Head is not equipped to deal with a wound like this,” he informed me. It was bad. Really bad.

“There’s not enough room for you in the ambulance,” I was informed by one of the EMTs just as I was about to climb in. “We’re going to take him to the airport, then we’re going to airlift him to Savannah Memorial.”

“Can I ride in the helicopter with him?” I asked, desperation creeping in.

“I’m sorry. You can’t. You’re going to have to get your car and meet him there. It’s just a little over an hour by car.”

In that moment, something inside me crumbled. My knees buckled. Lifeforce whooshed out of me. My face was hot, a sob rose up in my throat, my pulse quickened, but no tears came.

Thoughts came at lightning speed. What if he needed me in the helicopter? What if he felt scared and alone? What if he died and I wasn’t there?

I put on a brave face and kissed my baby goodbye. I told him how brave and strong he was and promised to meet him in Savannah.

A manager from Disney’s Hilton Head Island resort greeted us and escorted us to the shuttle that would take us back to the resort from the beach so we could get our car and make the hour-plus drive to Savannah. I went straight to the back of the shuttle, put my face in my hands and screamed. I didn’t care that there were other people in the shuttle. I just needed a release for the pain and fear that resided so heavily in my chest. The scream turned to sobs and I weeped out loud the entire drive back to the resort. I felt terrible for Tai because he held my hand, a little embarrassed and totally filled with terror. But I couldn’t keep a brave face anymore.

Once we got back to the resort, I grabbed clean, dry clothes for Jei and nothing else. Tai changed into dry shorts and a T-shirt. I didn’t. In hindsight, I have no idea why I packed Jei a change of clothes. Did I expect that a doctor would examine him and release him from the hospital that day in time for dinner? Some of the things we do in the face of trauma make absolutely no sense at all. I didn’t change clothes. And I spent the next twenty-four hours freezing in the hospital as a result. But Jei had a pair of clean underwear in my purse, in the event that he would be able to waltz right out of there.

We got in the car and headed to Savannah Memorial. The GPS said it would be 47 miles – one hour and nine minutes. It was the longest, most agonizing and terrifying hour of my life. I felt helpless. I wanted to be able to DO something, but there was nothing to be done but surrender. I went on Facebook and enlisted everyone I knew to pray for Jei. It was the only thing I could DO. That, and pray myself.

I prayed. I begged. I bargained. Please God, keep my baby alive. I don’t care if he loses his arm. Just keep him alive.

The prayers came flooding in from friends and family. I was grateful and vowed to stop and pray for any prayer request I see on social media.

I called my dad. I could barely get the words out but he heard the sob stuck in my throat. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Jei’s been bitten by a shark.”

“I’m on my way,” he hung up. I knew I’d see him in five hours.

My brother called. “How bad is it?”

“It’s bad,” I thought about the hanging flesh and big triangle holes I saw in Jei’s little arm. And the blood. So much blood. Kenny bawled.

Paul called his family in England to inform them of what happened and to let them know we would be cancelling our trip the next week. When he hung up, he took a deep breath.

What he did next frightened me to my core.

He cried. He cried hard. He cried a lot.

At last, a little over an hour later, we had arrived in the parking lot at Savannah Memorial. I could see the helicopter that brought Jei there still sitting on the landing pad. I ran into the pediatric ER, just as they were wheeling him to the ER for surgery. I signed consents for surgery, to transfuse him and even had a chance to talk to the surgeon, Dr. Hamrick. I got to kiss Jei just before he went into the ER. Thank God. I don’t know how I could have made it through the next couple hours if I had not been able to see him, kiss him and touch him.

They took him away for surgery and we waited in the waiting room. Another long, slow hour passed. Paul took Tai out to feed him and I stayed and waited some more. Every minute was excruciating. I prayed and begged and pleaded some more. I felt like I was losing my mind.

After an hour and a half, the ER nurse called me from the ER. “Jei did great. They’re closing him up and then Dr. Hamrick will be out to talk to you soon.”

The first wave of relief washed over me.

Then another forty minutes went by. Why was it taking them so long?

Finally, Dr. Hamrick walked into the waiting room.

“Jei did great. He’s going to be ok. The shark missed the major arteries and nerves. There was a bit of damage on the top of his forearm. We managed to sew all the muscle tubes together. But he will have superficial nerve damage on the top of his arm. We won’t know for a month or two the long term effects to the function of his hand. The tendons were pretty shredded. We did the best we could but there wasn’t much to work with. But he’s going to be ok.”

Relief and gratitude filled me. It was good news.

“He lost a lot of blood. His heart rate was elevated so we’ll have to watch that. His hemoglobin dropped in surgery and we’re going to have to keep an eye on that. We may still have to transfuse him.”

But he was going to be ok. He was alive. And he was going to keep his arm.

When he was moved to recovery, the nurse escorted us back to see him. He was heavily sedated and couldn’t wake up. The nurse encouraged me to keep talking to him to bring him out of his slumber. After maybe ten minutes, he stirred.

 

 

“Water,” he croaked. He was thirsty. That was a really good sign. I knew my little boy would be ok.

I stayed in the hospital with Jei that night. He was mostly in good spirits. Occasionally, he would cry and ask, “Why me?” Even when he was scared and terror-filled, he was positive and hopeful. He was always a trooper. I couldn’t believe how brave my little boy was. I learned so much about his character that day. I think he did, too. I couldn’t be more in awe of a human being.

I am in just as much awe of Tai. Tai has been the most supportive, attentive, incredible big brother and son anyone could ask for. I’m so grateful to have such a great, big-hearted kid. My heart is so full of love for you, Tai. I couldn’t be more proud.

That first night, they checked his vitals regularly. The nurse explained that when they checked his hemoglobin levels in surgery, he was at an 8. This was an indication that he had lost a lot of blood. They typically transfuse when it falls to 7 or 8. They wanted to see it at 12 or 13. At about 5am, they checked his hemoglobin levels. He was at a 9.3. His levels were climbing. His body was already bouncing back.

When the surgeons did their rounds in the morning, they removed Jei’s dressing. There were drains in his wound and a lot of stitches. I asked how many.

“A lot. Too many to count. However many you see on the outside, there’s even more on the inside.” Dr. Hamrick told me.

The wound looked good considering what it had looked like less than 24 hours before. I honestly could not believe the surgeon was able to take such a big, messy, severe and scary-looking wound with shark bite holes and flesh hanging off like curtains of fabric made of meat, skin and blood and turn it into a mostly normal looking arm with a big scar in the shape of a blacktip shark’s mouth.

 

 

The hospital staff kept referring to Jei as the “little boy that got bit by the shark.” That was strange and extraordinary to hear. In fact, the whole experience was predominantly surreal and dreamlike. When I asked Jei what it felt like, he said it didn’t feel real.

“I didn’t feel anything at all,” Jei answered. The shock of it protected him from the full experiencing of the trauma.

When Jei woke up the morning after the shark bite, he was hungry. We never had a chance to eat that day. I asked him what he wanted to eat. Without missing a beat, he answered, “Shark.”

 

 

Jei got a kick out of the menu in the pediatric ward. The top of the menu read, “Shark Bites.” Whoever created it never considered that a kid in the hospital might be a shark bite survivor.

Jei was released from the hospital at the end of the second day. When the nurse told me they were going to release him, I panicked. What if something went wrong? We live in the woods in the middle of nowhere more than an hour away from Savannah. But they said he was recovering nicely and would be fine. They pumped him full of one more IV of antibiotics and sent us on our way – that was Monday, June 14.

For the next couple days, we got a flood of calls from reporters. We did two interviews our first day back at home: one with Sharon Johnson from WJCL Savannah and one with Crystal Howard from WTOC Savannah. Crystal Howard had been reporting on the increased shark sightings in shallow waters and dangers associated with it in SC and Georgia. She had also been putting pressure on places like Hilton Head Island and Tybee Island to post signs for public safety when sharks were spotted in shallow waters. She informed me that a couple days before Jei was attacked, there were evacuations in the late morning and early afternoon because a shark was spotted swimming back and forth in shallow water in the area. We had no way of knowing those evacuations took place or that sharks were spotted. No signs were posted, no one alerted us – the public was just not informed. We never would have headed to the beach if I had known. Two days before Jei’s attack when she was trying to hold authorities accountable to alerting the public, she talked to Mike Wagner, Operations Manager for Hilton Head Island Shore Beach Service, who she said was rather non-chalant and pretty dismissive. His sentiment was that there are sharks in the ocean.

Of course, I know there are sharks in the ocean. But if I had known about their prevalence off the South Carolina coast, I might have made a different decision. If I had known that sharks had been spotted in shallow water at the very beach we were at just two days before, I would most certainly have made a different decision.

More disturbing than Hilton Head Island Shore Beach Service’s lack of notifying and warning the public, was their complete deficiency of training and preparation.

Jei received a call from shark behavior researcher, Erich Ritter, who Jei knew from Shark Week. He was the guy whose calf was bitten off by a bull shark on camera. Jei thought it was really cool that he got to connect with Erich. He talked to him for a bit and Erich sent us a lot of information and research that we are now digging into. We never planned a homeschooling unit on shark behavior, but that’s what I love about worldschooling. The world is our teacher and the universe sent us a shark. So we’re making the most of it.

For example, we learned that Jei was wearing a color strongly correlated with shark attacks – bright, fluorescent yellow board shorts. I always bought bright clothes and board shorts because it makes it easy for me to keep my eyes on my kids in a crowd. What I didn’t know is that it makes it easier for the shark to spot, too.

I connected with a Kevin Mcmurray, a shark attack researcher after the incident who collects data on shark attacks for the global shark attack database and one of the questions he asked was “what was Jei wearing?” Shark attacks correlate with wearing bright colors or anything sparkly, like jewelry. So much so that he said they call this color “yum-yum yellow.”

Other things that we now know to look out for: schools of fish in the area, birds are diving in the area, fishing activity in the area. As it turns out, land-based fishing is a real problem and one of the reasons sharks are coming into shallow waters looking for food. Land-based shark fishing has trained them to come in and feed.

We won’t be back in the ocean, but if you do head to the beach, bare all of this in mind.

I told Erich of our experience at Hilton Head Beach when the shark attack occurred. Essentially, they were really ill-prepared for anything like this. No protocol. No training. No supplies. No tourniquet. A lifeguard that didn’t know what to do. They didn’t even get people out of the blood-filled water!!! I felt like something greater than me took over my body and knew just what to do to save my son – thank God.

I was super disheartened to learn from Erich that he has been trying to get the beaches in the Carolinas and Florida to train for shark attacks and to make shark bite kits mandatory. They haven’t taken him seriously. Even though he has made it clear that preparation and training could be the difference between life or death. So now we’re thinking about ways to hold Hilton Head accountable – especially after learning that they have been encouraged to train their life guards and have kits on hand.

The more I have learned about the prevalence of sharks off the coast here and that people like Erich and Crystal have been trying to bring visibility to the issue and put pressure on the authorities to inform the public and train and prepare for shark attacks, the angrier I get.

I know, I know. There are sharks in the ocean. I get it – Whenever you go in the ocean, you’re at risk. Chances of an attack are minuscule, right? Well, it turns out, they’re not as uncommon as you think. It happened to Jei. And no one was prepared for it. Not the people that we entrust to be prepared for it. Jei was attacked in waist deep water. Waist deep on a 10-year-old. He was just splashing in the waves. Not swimming or surfing. You better believe I’m pissed about it. I need to do something with this righteous anger. Stay tuned for the plan of action on this.

 

Two days after Jei’s release from Savannah Memorial, he had his first follow up with the surgeon to get the drains removed from his arm. He was pretty stressed about it.

“Is it gonna hurt?” he must have asked me thirty-seven times.

“Not as much as the shark bite,” I teased. “If it feels anything like stitches coming out, it will feel like relief.”

“Can papa come with us to the doctor?” Jei asked. He was really anxious. Having my dad around comforts him like nothing else. Jei thinks his papa walks on water. Those first few days, Jei wouldn’t let anyone but papa change his dressings. He wanted his papa by his side for everything. So my dad drove us to Savannah and came with us to his appointment. I’m so grateful that my dad was able to be there for Jei. And for me.

That very morning, I was inundated with messages from reporters. I asked Jei if he wanted to talk to them.

“No, I’m done. I want to get back to my normal life.” He answered.

“Unless The Today Show or Ellen calls,” he said a few moments later after careful consideration.

While we were sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, my phone rang for the twentieth time with an unknown number. I was getting ready to turn my ringer off and was just about to press the red decline button to send the call to voicemail when Jei saw a New York number and told me to answer it.

“It might be the Today Show!” he said.

I answered. I was going to tell whoever it was calling from the 212 number what Jei said because I thought it was cute.

But he was right.

It was Today.

Talk about manifesting and the power of intention.

When we got back to our cabin from Savannah, The Today Show crew was already there, ready to set up. It aired the very next morning. He’d made national news. Jei, the shark bite boy, was sandwiched in between stories of the royal wedding.

 

 

The days and weeks following the shark attack were a roller coaster.

Jei would wake up in the middle of the night because of the pain. It’s terrible to see your baby in pain. But I also felt strangely grateful that he could feel pain, that he still had his arm, that he was even here and alive to feel be able to feel pain.

Jei was traumatized. On camera and in front of others, he was always upbeat and funny and positive and brave. All of that was real and true and authentically Jei. But in private moments when it was just us, he was still a scared, traumatized, vulnerable little boy, who choked back tears and asked: “why me?”

“Why did this have to happen to me? Why can’t things just be normal now? Why did that shark have to get me?”

Any time there were sudden movements, Jei would have flashbacks of the shark attack. Some nights, he would have bad dreams about being bitten, or about sharks in general, or flashback dreams of that day.

For the first month, Jei wouldn’t look at his own arm when I changed his dressings every night, no matter how much we told him it’s looking so much better every day. He would bury his head in Paul’s chest and squeeze his eyes shut. It looks better and better every single day, in truth. His surgeon and care team are amazing.

His first surgeon believes that Jei will need a tendon transfer surgery. He hasn’t been able to lift his hand, wrist or fingers. Two weeks ago, we went to see Dr. George White, a world-renowned hand surgeon in Orlando referred by Jei’s pediatrician’s office. He had an MRI done so the doctors could get a good look at what was going with his muscles and tendons. The bad news is that where there is the most damage to the muscle is where the tendons attach to the muscle on the top of his forearm. This would make surgery right now really difficult. The doctor ordered a custom splint from just below the shoulder all the way to his fingertips with his wrist/hand bent slightly back. Jei has to wear it 24/7 for at least three weeks (maybe more) to allow scar tissue to form. Jei was really not happy about that. The good news is that there is a chance that if the scar tissue forms the way the doctor hopes, that might do the trick that his hands need to get the lift action he has been unable to do with his hands, wrists, and fingers and we may be able to avoid another surgery altogether.

 

While we were in Orlando to see the hand surgeon, Jei and I got the opportunity to meet two other shark-bite survivor kids and their families at Sea World. We got a backstage pass to the shark encounter and got to see the kind of shark that bit Jei – a black tip – up close and personal. Jei was a little nervous to be so close to the sharks, but it was wonderful for Jei to meet other kids who went through the same experience he did. We met Lucas, a 13-year-old boy who was bitten three years ago at Cocoa when he was 10 – Jei’s age, and Violet, a four-year-old girl, who was bitten last summer. It was so incredibly healing to meet two other moms who went through the same thing, make new friends and realize we’re not alone in this crazy experience.

Seeing and learning more about sharks at Sea World definitely brought the trauma to the forefront. I don’t think it was a re-traumatization. I think it was part of the healing process. It brought up all the scary feelings that Jei was hiding behind his brave face and tough exterior. The night after the shark encounter at Sea World, we had a very rough night. Jei had flashbacks and heart palpitations and shaking into the wee hours of the morning.

He hasn’t had one since.

According to Wikipedia, exposure therapy is a behavior therapy technique to help treat anxiety. It involves exposing the patient to the anxiety source or its context without the intention to cause any danger. Doing so is thought to help them overcome their anxiety or distress. It seems to have worked for Jei. For that, I’m thankful.

I had a strange dream a few weeks ago that an old man told me that Jei’s aumakua is a shark. That was hard to accept in the dream because a shark hurt my son so badly. When I shared the dream a couple weeks ago with Jei, he said it made sense because the shark bit him then bolted off so fast. He said it didn’t mean to hurt him but was just a part of his path and destiny. He even had me muscle test for the truth of it – he tested strong.

When we went to Sea World, there were a bunch of shark signs at the shark pavilion providing information on different sharks. But one sign, in particular, stood out – the Blacktip Shark sign. It said, “Some Hawaiians consider this shark their guardian spirit, or aumakua.”

I lived in Hawaii for a number of years but I didn’t know specifically that it was this shark that was considered aumakua. It may have been in my subconscious and worked itself out in my dream. It may have been a message. Who knows. But Jei was amazed when he saw this sign and reminded me of the dream.

Jei was bitten by a black tip.

The day after we went to Sea World, Jei said to me, “The shark is my aumakua. He bit me to wake me up.” Then he talked about all the epiphanies and growth he and the rest of us have had as a result of this experience.

I’ve had my own share of PTSD. I see danger everywhere now. There’s an ever-present, low pulsing feeling that something bad is going to happen.

I’ve had my bouts of self-blame, too.

I just kept blaming myself because Jei didn’t want to go to the beach that day – he was desperate to go fishing but I wanted a couple of beach hours first. Paul told the boys “its Mother’s Day – you’re going to do what your mum wants with no complaining and we’ll go fishing later.” If I had just taken them fishing, this wouldn’t have happened.

The “if only’s” have kept me up at night. I do blame myself.

I just haven’t been able to stop the self-flagellation loop that says I was selfish, I should have prioritized what the boys wanted, none of this would have happened if I had.

There were some really unkind comments posted to my Facebook page telling me that sharks live in the ocean and I put my kid at risk. As cruel as they were, they had NOTHING on the inner mean girl screaming at me in my own head. Those words hurt so much because they echoed and validated the blame and guilt I already felt. I had to confront my darkest, most secret and shameful thoughts.

Of course, I understand it was a freak accident.

AND I still blame myself.

I’m so grateful that Jei will be ok. I’ve been moved to tears from all the love and support we’ve received. I also believe Jei will do something with this – he keeps talking about his destiny so I believe he will find purpose from what happened. I am 100% focused on all the blessings that have come and will continue to come from this event.

And it also sucks. There are some dark moments. I can be focused on the positive and still honor the bad feelings, the angry feelings, the feelings of blame and guilt. I don’t want to escape or repress those aspects of my experience because they are just as real as all the positive. Just because I feel them, they don’t take away from all the positive feelings and love. They’re all an authentic part of the experience of being human and alive. So I’ll take them all, thank you.

I can make peace with feeling all of these things all at once. They’re all a part of the journey.