Mike Coots
Would I have gone surfing that morning knowing that moments after jumping into the sea I would lose a limb? Absolutely. A violent encounter with a shark amputated my leg in seconds, and nearly killed me. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Life’s uncanny like that.
Would I have gone surfing that morning knowing that moments after jumping into the sea I would lose a limb? Absolutely. A violent encounter with a shark amputated my leg in seconds, and nearly killed me. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Life’s uncanny like that.
I was born and raised on the small tropical island of Kaua’i. My childhood was spent in and around the sea and enjoying every moment of it. I have so many memories as a child, riding the waves with friends and exploring the undersea world, diving on the days the sea was calm enough. My entire being craved the water, and life became centred on her ebbs and flows.
The fall after high school was like all the others. Hawaii’s winter surf season was beginning to awaken, and the first swell of the season was filled with excitement and anticipation. I was 18, on top of the world, and had all four limbs. That all changed on a humid October morning. The shark attack was typical - a blind-sided approach from the deep. I fought back, and hard. A few punches to the head sent the shark away but not without losing my right leg below the knee. I did succumb to other injuries - a ripped finger, as I tried to ply my legs out of its jaws, and a badly mangled left foot. I was severely bleeding but fortunate enough to catch a small wave to shore that seemed to have been hand-delivered by a higher power. A friend who was quick-thinking applied a tourniquet and I hurried to medical help, all the while drifting in and out of shock. I woke a day later in ICU surrounded by doctors, nurses, and family. It was a sombre moment as my eyes opened. I felt a heaviness in the room, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. The doctor asked my mom “Should I tell him?” My mom then stared at me and said “Mike, you LOST YOU LEG.” I was like, "duh, I saw it come off".
My time in hospital was rough. All I could think about was how good the surf was and which of my friends were getting tubed. I knew I was going to be back riding waves soon, it just felt like that day couldn’t come fast enough. I was wondering how I could bring my wheelchair down to the beach and if crutches were hard to use in the sand. A day before leaving the hospital a stranger visited me. He was like a lot of others in our community, stopping by to offer good wishes. After he left, my mother commented casually “He’s an amputee like you and was using a prosthetic leg to help him walk.” I hadn’t noticed anything different about him or his walk, and wearing trousers, I had no idea. The effects of being sheltered on a small isle as I had, I'd never even heard the word prosthetic in my life let alone seen one. I thought I would be on crutches or a wheelchair for the rest of my life and was fine with that. But then I found out that there’s a device that I can use to walk?
My mind was blown.
I spent the next few years learning how to walk with a prosthesis with most days back in the water doing my favorite thing - boogie boarding. I had insurance troubles and was receiving ill-fitted prostheses. Lots of blisters, infections, ER visits getting gross stuff drained, all with the worst imaginable limp. I hid my injuries very well though, a good pair of jeans can hide a lot. As I had never seen an amputee besides that visit in the hospital, I knew I was different. As a shy, young adult starting college, different isn’t always good. I fell in love with photography and began classes abroad in art school. My colleagues had no idea I was attacked by a shark, let alone that I was an amputee. If I missed a class or two, no-one thought any different, but I was hiding the fact that I couldn’t go to school because I couldn’t put my leg on – the blisters from a bad fit were just too painful.
Around my second year in school, I had thoughts of bringing my prosthetic leg into the ocean. How delightful it would it be not to have to awkwardly hop into the water one-legged. Maybe I could even ride a surfboard and not just lie flat, like all my other rides on a boogie board? I was told by my prosthetist don’t even dare taking the prosthesis into the ocean. It would void the warranty; he wouldn't be able to fix it and I undoubtedly would get on his bad side. Something as someone with no insurance and begging for free repairs definitely should be listening to. But it was an abnormally warm summer day in Santa Barbara and if I ever was going to, this was it. My essential but half-cracked, ill-fitted contraption of carbon, metal, rubber, and plastic made its way into the sea. Nothing happened. No screws fell out. It didn’t melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. And moments later I caught my first wave with a prosthetic leg. What a feeling that was, to stand tall, firmly planted on my board as I rode to shore. I became hooked. Every thought consumed how I could surf better, and I began tinkering with a waterproof camera mounted on my board to look at how the foot maneuvered during the ride. I was using a rubber ball type socket, and right away noticed the very little energy return could barely turn the board. Lots of wipeouts later I just had a feeling there was a better way to surf. As social media began in its infancy, I began posting these videos of myself surfing with the prosthetic leg. To my surprise, I began getting the most sincere, wonderful, kind feedback. “That’s beautiful”. “Wow, how incredible” “Nothing's stopping you”. I'd never heard these words after my injuries, and it had a very fast effect on my self-esteem. I became proud of being limbless. I was different, but different could also be cool. Those jeans came off and were never worn again. I stood tall, and proud of being an amputee.
Ironically, I also fell in love with what was below the surface, specifically the same species that nearly killed me. I was invited to dive with sharks, with my world changing once again. Using my unique voice as a shark attack survivor, I found value in sharing the importance of sharks in the marine ecosystem. I’ve lobbied US Congress on shark legislation and helped create shark laws in my home state of Hawaii. I also advocate on behalf of sharks, from local elementary school kids to the United Nations in NYC. We need sharks for a healthy ocean and reefs, and a healthy reef means great waves!
As I surfed more and more with my prosthetic foot, I found what worked and what didn’t. It took a few bad wipeouts to realise I needed a dynamic foot - something that gave energy return and could let me drive the surfboard. Enter carbon fiber. The godsend of a material in the Pro-Flex XC held energy in the foot until needed - and then it returned it back, helping to turn the surfboard. It felt like a new chapter of my surfing started right there and then. The stoke was palpable, and it hasn’t left. I feel like the luckiest amputee in the world. As adaptive surfing has taken off worldwide, it's incredible to watch that stoke on others.
A prosthetic leg is an amputee's everything; self-worth, a way to exercise, transport, work, and create. The single most important item in our lives. To be able to take something so intrinsically valuable on land into the ocean confidently, that’s a gift I hope everyone who has lost a limb get to experience.