Wait! What? Seriously? A heart attack. No way. Not at my age. I'm in the "Too young for this club", right? I mean I’m only 52 ya’ll. I realize I’ve joined the half a century society at this point, and I have an active AARP membership, but come on. A STEMI? How in the heck?
Well, remember what I said about not slowing down? Turns out my body had been trying to tell me something for a year. Hardheaded much? Yes siree. That would be me. All that extra stress I hadn’t been dealing with combined with anxiety, pushing myself, not saying no, being distracted and decades of active vasculitis caught up with me. And in a big way too.
Even the signs of a heart attack weren’t enough to coax me into checking in with my doctors. I was certain I was fine, took some extra tums and went to bed. Chest pain, na, nothing to worry about. Pressure building up. Just gas, right? Oh, and that pain down the left arm? Nothing to think twice on. Just fibromyalgia.
We all know at this point how that worked out, right? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure what came next. I woke up in the middle of the night nauseous, headache off the charts, BP up and the pain getting worse. The telltale sign something was definitely wrong. My elbow felt like it was going to literally explode off my arm.
Talk about a hallelujah come to Jesus' moment. This was absolutely mine.
I actually beat Johnny to the vehicle. Which was a first. I’m usually dragging my feet and protesting all the way to the ER. I was out of the SUV and walking through the doors before Johnny unbuckled his seat belt. It felt urgent. As if life was fleeting quickly. I don't know how exactly how to explain the feeling or sensation, but it felt pressing. I’m sure my anxiety had something to do with that but nonetheless, there I was.
Three quick ECG’s later, nurses rushing in and out, the shoe dropped. I was in the middle of a heart attack. They gave me pain meds, started an IV, drew blood, ordered a CT, gave me heparin and proceeded with more testing. Next thing I knew I was in the back of an ambulance, tears running down my face, thanking the paramedics, smiling through it and heading to the main hospital.
Not my idea of a Sunday funday to say the least. But there I was. Heading into the cath lab. I called my son, my parents and held onto Johnny's hand pretty tightly before they wheeled me into the coldest, arctic blasting air-conditioned room in the hospital. It’s always the unexpected with me, seriously, nothing ever goes as planned. And no, I never do anything by the book. Where’s the fun in that? But I did emerge a few hours later, gratefully alive, groggy, doped up, with a stent and starting a new chapter in life. Oh yeah, I made sure to ask the surgeon if I’d still be able to make it to Disneyland for our 30th anniversary. Heart failure? Not great, but come on, is this really getting between me and Disney?
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