Crocodile attack - A story of survival

When people ask me how I lost my hand, I usually say, "Oh, I ran into a crocodile." It's a bit of a joke, but it's also true. I was 17 years old. My dad had just retired, and we had sold our house and bought a sailboat. My dad and I were in Costa Rica, and we were swimming in a beautiful river. We were having a great time, splashing around and enjoying the warm water.
All of a sudden, I felt something grab my hand and I was pulled underwater. I was stunned and horrified. I tried to fight back, but it was too strong. I could feel its teeth sinking into my flesh. It felt like it was gnawing on my hand like it was a piece of meat. I screamed for help, but my dad didn't hear me. I thought I was going to die.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I know that I eventually managed to break free from the crocodile's grip, and I swam back to shore. My dad was waiting for me, and he helped me to get to the hospital.
At the hospital, the doctors told me that I had lost my hand. I was devastated. I couldn't believe that this had happened to me. I was so young, and I had my whole life ahead of me. I didn't know how I was going to go on.
But I did go on. I went to physical therapy and learned how to use my prosthetic hand. I graduated from high school and college. I got a job and started a family. I travel around the world and go on adventures. I also founded a nonprofit organization that helps people who have lost limbs.
Losing my hand was a traumatic experience, but it also taught me a lot about myself. I learned that I am stronger than I thought I was. I learned that I can overcome any obstacle. And I learned that there are people who care about me and want to help me.
I am grateful for the life that I have today. I am grateful for my family, my friends, and my support network. I am grateful for the opportunity to help others. And I am grateful for the crocodile that attacked me. Because if it hadn't, I would never have learned how strong I really am.