Silver Linings
A significant cardiac incident, such as the one I experienced, evokes a gamut of emotional reactions from family and friends ranging from shock to disbelief, friendly advice to empathy. I feel compelled to share them. The road to recovery through rehab and lifestyle changes has been interesting.
Must Be Terrifying
Well-wishers assume the experience must have been traumatic and terrifying. While that may generally be true, it was neither for me. Meditation has taught me otherwise. It is not a morbid obsession to apprehend life’s inescapable terminus. There’s wisdom in paying deliberate attention to one’s breath. It’s a nod to what could be our last breath — tuning into an effortless and involuntary act that seldom gets noticed.
Mortality
Barring a miracle of Science, no biological system can exist in perpetuity. And our bodies are no exception. Merely knowing that does little to prepare us psychologically. Confronting a terminal diagnosis or a significant health incident such as a cardiac arrest or stroke can get overwhelming. Ultimately, there’s no way to evade the end of life. But I’d like to think befriending it softens the blow. I have discovered that meditation nudges me closer with every drawn breath. The wisdom is in getting comfortable should it come to pass. I admit letting go of fear or anxiety is easier said than done. But practice helps.
You Are Too Young
The most common reaction was amazement. Fellow patients couldn’t believe I was one too. All attendees of the wellness program were older, most pulling ranks by at least a couple of decades. One thing we had in common was we were all survivors of heart-related incidents — cardiac arrest, heart failure, open heart surgery, stents, pacemakers — the works. I recall a friendly suggestion to get a Living Will made and notarized. Once they warmed up to me, there was an overwhelming sense of compassion, kindness, and an in-group spirit that’s hard to describe. It was understood and accepted that I belonged there and was not a younger impostor mocking their mishap.
It’s All Relative
Rehab was under strict supervision by a staff of dieticians, registered ER nurses, and physical and behavioral therapists. We wore cardiac telemetry monitors in strict compliance toward maintaining a target heart rate, with all the attendant blood and oxygen parameters in line. At first, it seemed a bit excessive, but after hearing some anecdotes, it became clear they meant business — safety came first. It’s hard to accept that your heart may not endure even a little exertion. The main biological pump needs an observer because its function is compromised. It does make sense in that light.
Gym anxiety is a real thing. But it equally applies to cardiac wellness rehabilitation. I wasn’t out there to compete with anyone. Maybe a little with pre-cardiac-incident self. But I admit I was in a reasonable physical shape even before it happened. Compared to veterans in the school of hard knocks, my current physical health was a no-contest compared to theirs. I later learned some of them labeled me “Rocket Man” because of the intensity I brought to my rehab routine. I was oblivious to their judgments and gossip, having remained consumed by my one-minded goal of recovery — desperate for new normalcy. I also learned I inspired them to do more.
Silver Linings
Adversity can become a stepping stone to the greater good. I bear witness to a staggering self-transformation that seems unbelievable in hindsight. It is amazing what ninety days of strict diet, exercise, teetotalism, therapy, and family support can do. Modern medicine has come a long way in improving one’s shot at life. But living it well rests squarely on each of us. I feel lighter, happier, and at least twenty years younger. I sleep well and stick to healthy eating habits. A day doesn’t pass by without exercise. I am basking in the afterglow of this transformation. Somewhere along the way, I heart-walked for AHA and am planning to run a half marathon next year.
Gratitude
I can’t help but express deep gratitude to everyone whose paths crossed mine. A fellow passenger dispensed this sage advice on her last day of rehab — do whatever it takes to never come back. I thought it was a befitting end to an otherwise dark episode. As the year draws to a close, I face some new challenges — insurance companies have got wind of my current situation with heart medications. They sense they can put a new premium on my life, deny supplemental life insurance beyond a certain threshold. But nothing fazes me. To not be dead is synonymous with living. To live is to face the music — the good, the bad, and the rest. I get to live another day. Perhaps more. Goodbye 2022, hello 2023!
Thank you for your readership and support.
© Dr. VK. All rights reserved, 2022
