- Heidi Ernst, 76, was on a dream holiday in The Bahamas when things took a terrifying turn.
- She was climbing back onto the boat when a shark clamped its jaws around her left leg.
- Fighting for her life, Heidi had to punch the shark to survive.
Here Heidi tells her story in her own words.
Pulling on my fins and mask, I stood on the edge of the boat and jumped into the water.
Another day in paradise, I smiled.
It was June 2023, and I was on a diving trip in The Bahamas with 12 others.
Completing more than 500 dives over the last decade, I’d swum with marine animals big and small, including dolphins, and sharks, and loved capturing them in their natural habitat with my camera.
‘If it drags me in, I’m toast.’
Now, in the water, I was excited to see what weird and wonderful things I’d find under the sea.
Diving 27 metres down to the ocean floor, I photographed red, blue and orange coral, and a giant sting ray peeping out from under the sand.
I’d also noticed a glass bottom boat around 15 metres away, where tourists were feeding a group of native Caribbean reef sharks, by throwing bait into the sea.
The water was swarming with the sharks, but in all the years I’d been diving they’d never shown any aggression, so I didn’t pay them much mind.
Boarding the boat shortly after as we were due to head back to land, I’d taken off my diving gear, then hopped back in the water to relieve myself.
As I stepped back onto the bottom rung of the ladder, though, I was pummelled by an almighty force from below.
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Shark!
Looking down, I was horrified to see my lower left leg in the mouth of the 1.5 metre long predator.
Paralysed with fear, I went numb – unable even to scream.
Then I felt its ferocious teeth sinking into the flesh of my calf, piercing right down to the bone as the shark shook its head from side to side.
Survival mode kicking in, I tightened my grip around the ladder and locked eyes with the beast.
If it drags me in, I’m toast, I thought.
‘Help me!’
I wasn’t going to let a trip to the loo get me killed…
Mustering every bit of strength, I punched the shark in its nose over and over with my left hand, its razor sharp teeth stabbing my middle finger, as I desperately clung on to the ladder with my right hand.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I felt the shark’s grip loosen just enough to pull my leg free.
‘Help me!’ I screamed to my fellow divers.
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It’d happened so quickly they hadn’t had a chance to intervene.
As they dragged me from the now blood-filled ocean, I caught a peek of my shredded leg.
The nerves in my calf and ankle had been completely severed, and my foot was turning grey from the blood loss.
This is really bad, I panicked, convinced that I wouldn’t make it out of this alive.
One of the divers cradled my upper body with my head in his lap, while a crew member used a towel to create a makeshift tourniquet.
‘Please don’t let me die.’
Meanwhile, another called an ambulance to meet us at the marina, a 20-minute drive away.
Listening to the rumble of the boat’s engine as we sped towards the shore, I felt myself fading.
‘Please don’t let me die,’ I begged the man who was applying the tourniquet.
‘I won’t,’ he promised.
When we arrived an ambulance was waiting to race me to the hospital, 10 minutes away.
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There, I was rushed into surgery, where doctors inserted two metal plates in my fractured leg and sewed up my bite wounds.
I also received 13 blood transfusions to replace all the blood I’d lost.
Around 24 hours later I was airlifted to a trauma hospital in Miami.
‘I believe amputation will give you the best outcome,’ the surgeon told me, explaining that even if my injuries healed, I would likely have ongoing nerve issues.
Working as a physiotherapist, I knew sometimes tough decisions had to be made.
‘Let’s amputate,’ I said, eager to start my recovery.
Later that day, my leg was removed below my knee.
In surgery, doctors discovered I had been infected with Vibrio vulnificus – a flesh eating bacteria that I’d contracted while fighting for my life in the ocean.
While I wasn’t fazed by my stump, I had to undergo another four surgeries as doctors battled to stop the infection spreading further by cutting away the infected flesh.
After 13 days in hospital, I was discharged in a wheelchair.
Back home, I focused on my recovery and rebuilding my strength.
Living in a one-level house, I used my wheelchair to get around on my own.
I also had a neighbour visit each afternoon to help me change my dressings, and another neighbour brought me groceries and helped feed my horses.
Hoping to find something to keep my stump warm, I even purchased a leg warmer online emblazoned with the words, A shark did it, which caused a few giggles when friends came to visit.
In October that year I received my shark-themed prosthesis, and by November I was taking my first wobbly steps.
Watching from the sidelines, my neighbour cheered me on as I placed one foot in front of the other.
And in December I returned to The Bahamas were I dived at the exact spot my attack happened.
Almost three years on from my ordeal, I haven’t let it hold me back from the things I love.
I’m diving, driving, working with patients, and recently got back into powerlifting.
I cheated death that day. Now I’m grateful for every extra moment I get!
