I had a heart attack on August 18, had a triple bypass on August 20. Like you, I'm recovering. It was weird. I've been an exercise enthusiast for decades. On the morning of the 18th, I did my stretches, did 74 push ups, got on the bowflex max trainer to get my heart rate to the 140s, and felt alright. But over the months before the attack, I was getting bouts of heartburn, I should have understood what that meant, but let it pass. I took Tums in the evening with another "heartburn" incident, but unlike the other times, there was no relief. It was uncomfortable and mildly painful, but it wasn't "great pain." Luckily, the ambulance people responded quickly and I was given steady doses of nitro on the way to the ER. Before, during, and after surgery, I had wonderful support and encouragement from family.
Since surgery, I've wondered about a lot of things. One of them is the odd fact that I'm still here, still breathing, still walking the dog, still having good meals. It didn't have to be this way. Yesterday I was alone in the house. I stopped moving around for awhile when I entered the bedroom. I thought about an alternative set of fictional events that could have resulted in a death, a funeral, and a burial while standing and gazing at our bed. At that very moment in time, the bedroom could be empty with no one in it, and no one in the house. Our second car would be up for sale. My wife would still be in the midst of getting rid of some of my belongings. Some of the household tasks would be put on hold. The upkeep would get to be overwhelming. So many things would be different, and I wouldn't be here to help or even be worried. All of it is nearly too much to fathom.
Both of us have dodged a bullet. We have, for unknown reasons, been given a little more time on earth. A little more time to appreciate the people we love and admire. A little more time to enjoy life with the living. I really don't know why. So many people, every day, suffer the joyless fate of dying with no comforts, no pleasures, no last words, no anything. They just die alone, and that's it.
So to you, I tip my hat. I thank you for writing your post so that I could spend a few minutes to respond, as if these few minutes are all we have. Take care and be in good health. Always.
J.M.
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