December 19, 2016
Sometimes I feel like I’m failing at being a good sudden cardiac arrest survivor. My story isn’t very impressive; I was just running a race — something I’ve done innumerable times — but collapsed near the finish line and had life-saving CPR performed on me by spectators and volunteer medical personnel. People did what they were supposed to do, and I’m glad they came through. I knew I had coronary artery disease, but I ran the race anyway, because I am a runner and because my cardiologist gave me the green light. So it was all because of a poorly made decision on my part.
I didn’t have any visions while experiencing the SCA; it’s just a blank from running with hundreds of others to waking up two days later in a hospital bed with my worried family. What is wrong with me that I didn’t get to see my Mom or Dad or a bright light at the end of a tunnel? I feel sheepish when people ask the inevitable question, “What did you see when you died?” They must wonder, when I tell them I saw nothing, whether I’m making the whole thing up for attention or saw something personally-threatening, like the devil or Liberace.
I don’t feel like I have a second chance or that I’ve been reborn; I just feel like my life has limitations that it didn’t have before, like taking 4 pills every morning or being advised not to “push too hard” when cycling or when my neighbor says that I shouldn’t shovel snow from his driveway when he’s in Florida because, “well, you know” — a reference to what he perceives to be my fragile heart. Hey, I just ran 10k or 6.2 miles in 48 minutes and 11 seconds on the track this morning, I want to say. Then I begin to wonder if I’m in denial and, unlike when I ran that ill-fated half-marathon, need to begin to act more responsibly.
Perhaps worst of all is that I haven’t gained any new perspectives on life or its meaning. Like everyone else, I read the aphorisms, like “Live every day like it is your last.” I just can’t seem to meet the expectations in those pithy sayings. Take today: I drove my wife to work, ran 10k around the indoor track, went to the grocery store to argue for a rebate because I paid the full price to a $43 spiral-cut hickory-smoked ham instead of the flyer price, bought some cat food at the vet’s and had peanut butter on toasted baguette for lunch. And that’s only the morning of what could be the last day of my life! Pretty unmemorable so far, even if the lunch was great. Life goes on and so do I.
I’m happy to be alive. I was happy to be alive before I had the sudden cardiac arrest. Nothing changes yet everything changed.
Happy holidays all!