As promised, here is more of the saga ... Some of this is on Mt. Sinai's website for both the hospital and the American Heart Association. They work tirelessly to provide information on women and heart disease, hoping for a growing audience. Now that I have figuried out the blogspot system, I hope to make a contribution, too. Thanks for your responses...
The Elusive Symptoms: Knowledge is Power
The saga had probably begun at least two months before the more obvious signs to come.
I was with a friend at a shopping mall, and just didn't feel right. I felt pressure in my chest and a sense of discomfort best described as what many women call “a dark cloud hanging over me”, typically appearing during a battle with a significant other, a spouse in my case. We had insurmountable problems and I was coming to realize that the marriage could not possibly survive. To my friend, it seemed that I was describing the symptoms typical of anxiety or panic attacks, totally believable but totally out of character. The only “somatic”, or physical, reaction I ever connected to stress was that vice grip on the back of one's neck that turns into a whopping stress headache. I could only guess that I was not handling the combination of my practice, our business and the problems in our relationship well and that this was to be my newest reaction. But I had no pain down my arm, no sweating, no dizziness, just a peculiar and fleeting feeling in my upper chest. I had no idea that the warning signs, and, more importantly, the symptoms of an actual heart attack could be so varied, as we are at last learning they are especially in women. It can be a terrible, even life-threatening mistake to self-diagnose. Neither is it about blaming the victim for not knowing better. Physicians themselves have encountered similar experiences, even with their vast knowledge bases, and how often do we hear that someone left the doctor's office with a seemingly clean bill of health, only to die of a massive coronary practically on the office steps? We do not want to feel vulnerable, helpless, on the brink. According to the theory of Alfred Adler, we instinctively strive for "superiority", not over others, but for ourselves, in a kind of self-competition to improve. Predictability and trust in your own body are rattled through disease, so questioning and knowledge become powerful and necessary. You may be puzzled, frustrated, exhausted, but whatever has happened to you that you surely did not plan offers you a chance to survive. Do not allow yourself to be seduced into self-pity or inaction; for example, learn to wink at yourself when you realize that fatigue has never been defined the way it is now, one of my unrecognized symptoms! Bad news can signal many things, including the possibility of becoming more of who we can be, but first, the initial alarm needs to be heard resoundingly. In re-examining the way you are living your life, you may choose to make changes or you may come to realize that your current strategies will not let you down, despite your difficulty. I had to remind myself to consciously and conscientiously apply what I knew: again the less reliable than usual voice in my head was advising me to maximize what works and eliminate what does not. Don't rely on "wishes", have a plan; be in collusion with yourself to prepare for the best outcome possible, using knowledge, thoughtfulness, pride of accomplishment. Thank yourself in advance for your cooperation, as in a business letter requesting something you need. I had been given the gift of survival; now it would be up to me whether or not I could reach the pinnacle, the point of glory achieved by some, that of thriving.
That feeling of diffuse pressure across my chest recurred about two weeks later, same friend, same mall, but this time coupled with what I would later be able to describe as difficulty breathing comfortably. We concurred once again that I was just more unhappy than I could admit, accounting for why the fallout was way beyond just a sore neck. This conclusion was based more on ignorance than on denial, since the symptom seemed easy to pass off using the psychology with which I was familiar and had long espoused. Several weeks later, while playing tennis three days before my husband and I were due to leave for vacation, I had a pain that was completely foreign. It was strong, located on the left side of my chest, but disappeared quickly. When it recurred, I decided not to simply ignore it. Streams of memories about my father's sudden death filled my mind, and I sat down. Again, it resolved immediately, but left me feeling vulnerable and wondering how much significance it represented. When I returned to the court the next day and it recurred, I found my way to the bench next to my friend, and told her what had happened, with tears welling up in my eyes. She was concerned, even though it once again abated quickly, but neither of us could believe that it was heart-related. No-more-tennis-today was my self-prescribed resolution, but while walking the half-block from my car after tennis, carrying heavy packages, the pain returned. This time it was not nearly as brief: it lasted about a minute and left me more than nominally frightened. Now there was the whisper of an inner voice telling me to get past this, cut out the coddling. How many people react this way out of self-protection, actually causing the reverse result?
On the following day, I was completing preparations to leave for vacation which involved transferring cat litter from a large to a smaller vessel to ease the path for my cat sitter. Suddenly, the pinpoint pain just at the center of my hear hit anew. This time it was considerably more forceful, but stubbornness prevailed and I tried to finish the task. Within a minute or two, I knew that something was really wrong; the pain was not disappearing, but instead growing in intensity. I dropped onto my bed and grabbed for the phone to call the same friend who had been with me on each of the tennis days, announcing with as much composure as I could muster that I thought I was having a heart attack - no denial in this moment, just plain terror.
I wish I had known that for many women, symptoms vary both in kind and in intensity, often masked by our own desire not to give in to the early, seemingly small signs. We prefer to march on and we have been kept ignorant, too.
Until recently, the studies and their conclusions involved only men, so we have been in the dark. I duly noted my symptoms, but they were not recognizable to me as heart-related, singly or as a package. I suppose that if I could have known or even suspected that I had a clogged artery during that first moment of pain on the tennis court and marched myself to a cardiologist, I might have averted the "myocardial infarctions" or MI's (medical-ease for heart attacks) and subsequent permanent damage. My age and history might have prompted a responsible physician to order tests that could have altered the course of my "disease".
I later learned that the type of myocardial infarction that I had, permanently felled most people and was referred to as “the widow maker”, again referring to men. Remarkably, I had not succumbed, but I had lost 30% of the heart muscle and was in for a long, arduous battle to regain enough energy to remain active and feel more or less healthy.
Once there is more data out there, which we have finally begun to demand, it can be expected that women will be more likely to act upon the information elicited by our bodies. My entire history spanned a mere three days, plus two incidents easily ascribed to the problems I was facing. I lacked both the medical wisdom and the ability to accept that anything major was brewing. I have learned since that this reaction is typical of many strong, independent, intelligent people. Denial and resistance, although natural, do not promote acceptance and often inhibit reality-seeking through education.
Soon after the string of MI’s, waiting in my cardiologist's office, I noticed a chart that notes the "3 E's" of rehabilitation: education, exercise and emotional support. Blinders, self-deception and ignorance create a lack of mobilization, paralysis and an inability to take control. Crisis provides choices. You must be willing to take responsibility for yourself, even if it means knowing on whom to rely during times when you may lack clarity of thought and be too weak to be decisive. All of this presumes that you have a life plan, filled with realistic goals and incorporating others who enhance your life. If this is not quite true, you have a multitude of useful, necessary, life-giving tasks to learn and put into practice. Maya Angelou's eloquent simplicity sums up the stages of eventual growth beautifully: "When you know better, you do better". Do not fight against your own evolution. The more you know, the more you grow.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Women and Heart Disease: my journal -- and yours??
This is the essence of Chapter One... horrifying, instructive, shocking... do read on...
How Could This Be Happening?: The Initiation
I sat quivering nervously, impatiently on a cold chair in a corner of the emergency room, alone, ignored, alternating between fear and fury. I couldn't have had a heart attack - or had I?
Like so many people with undiscovered, potentially disastrous diseases, I seemed to be the picture of health. I had lost about ten pounds and kept it off, not achieving perfection, but removing a likely threat, considering my history. I had been diagnosed several years earlier with labile hypertension and the accompanying annoyance of fluid retention, both hereditary. My father had a fatal heart attack in his early forties, when I was nineteen, my brother merely fifteen. He had duplicated his own mother's history.
For me, medication was successful in stabilizing my blood pressure, my cholesterol levels were only slightly elevated and I was under the care of a competent physician. My attitude was positive - I have labeled myself an "optimistic realist" - and although neither a purist nor a structured exercise person, I was fast-moving, active and avid in my belief that my rich emotional life would be a benefit to my health. So it was rather a stunning irony when, in September of 1998, at the relatively young age of 52, I had three heart attacks, all within a one-week period. The first episode brought me to the emergency room, but I was determined that the team would establish that the pain had been caused by some peculiar gastric upset, rather than anything heart-related. I was adamant that I was due to leave for vacation in just two hours and wanted medical clarification quickly so that my family would not have to be diverted to the frightening E.R. (Emergency Room) Didn't they understand that I was on my way to the airport for a long-anticipated vacation and that this could not be happening? I would learn later that this degree of denial typifies the earliest phase of the discovery of unwanted news.
I was admitted, against my desire but at the insistence of the E.R. attending physician, and then had a full-blown heart attack in the middle of the night right there in my hospital bed! Exactly one week later, having been home for only one and a half days, a repeat performance, necessitating an ambulance crew to return me to the hospital for yet another week's stay. Concisely explained, complete blockage of the most crucial vessel, the left anterior descending artery (LAD) had recurred.
But I was so different! Shouldn't my emotional health, self-awareness and lifestyle compensate for heredity? After all, if communication had been considered within the realm of athletic prowess, I might have been considered a star! In theory, I could hear my own voice saying for decades… don't hold things in, be in touch with your feelings, welcome new ideas, use humor as a survival feature, relentlessly pursue the teaching - and learning - involved in the acquisition of strategies of living leading to greater joy and understanding among people. With this philosophy of life in place, this could not really be happening. Ah, but in practice - and I was a novice in this area - there was no offer of immunity, no trade-off forthcoming as a reward for conscientious effort and even good health! The nodding heads of everyone who has suffered the cruel indignity of having to admit to illness will serve as recognition of my plight.
There was another piece of the puzzle that I had not factored into the equation: I had finally, sadly, frustratingly realized that my twelve-year marriage was in dire trouble and I was terribly unhappy, disappointed and hurt. We both tried to comprehend each of our needs in the hope of assisting the relationship. We were in the midst of building a business together and the rigors of that and his ever-growing inner tension and personal turmoil brought unbearable stress to both of us. I held fast to the notion that I could manage, that I would wait out his crisis, but our differences became difficulties and the stress turned to distress and certainly must have exacerbated what I did not even know was brewing. Our tenacity and drive proved inadequate and the disappointment and strain were immeasurable. We cannot discount this level of stress and the disarming role it plays on our bodies. No doubt he was as unhappy as I was, daunted by my health issues and not altogether pleased with my new-found friendships in cardiac rehab - and what he interpreted as separateness from him.
So many of us either have momentary lapses or have yet to learn that self-love, wholeness, must be present so that when a relationship ceases to exist, we can rely on our positive self-regard and continue to flourish without that alliance. In the presence of catastrophe, it is essential that this concept be strong and ever-present. It granted me sufficient motivation to sustain me even as my body seemed to conspire against me, but it was hard work.
How Could This Be Happening?: The Initiation
I sat quivering nervously, impatiently on a cold chair in a corner of the emergency room, alone, ignored, alternating between fear and fury. I couldn't have had a heart attack - or had I?
Like so many people with undiscovered, potentially disastrous diseases, I seemed to be the picture of health. I had lost about ten pounds and kept it off, not achieving perfection, but removing a likely threat, considering my history. I had been diagnosed several years earlier with labile hypertension and the accompanying annoyance of fluid retention, both hereditary. My father had a fatal heart attack in his early forties, when I was nineteen, my brother merely fifteen. He had duplicated his own mother's history.
For me, medication was successful in stabilizing my blood pressure, my cholesterol levels were only slightly elevated and I was under the care of a competent physician. My attitude was positive - I have labeled myself an "optimistic realist" - and although neither a purist nor a structured exercise person, I was fast-moving, active and avid in my belief that my rich emotional life would be a benefit to my health. So it was rather a stunning irony when, in September of 1998, at the relatively young age of 52, I had three heart attacks, all within a one-week period. The first episode brought me to the emergency room, but I was determined that the team would establish that the pain had been caused by some peculiar gastric upset, rather than anything heart-related. I was adamant that I was due to leave for vacation in just two hours and wanted medical clarification quickly so that my family would not have to be diverted to the frightening E.R. (Emergency Room) Didn't they understand that I was on my way to the airport for a long-anticipated vacation and that this could not be happening? I would learn later that this degree of denial typifies the earliest phase of the discovery of unwanted news.
I was admitted, against my desire but at the insistence of the E.R. attending physician, and then had a full-blown heart attack in the middle of the night right there in my hospital bed! Exactly one week later, having been home for only one and a half days, a repeat performance, necessitating an ambulance crew to return me to the hospital for yet another week's stay. Concisely explained, complete blockage of the most crucial vessel, the left anterior descending artery (LAD) had recurred.
But I was so different! Shouldn't my emotional health, self-awareness and lifestyle compensate for heredity? After all, if communication had been considered within the realm of athletic prowess, I might have been considered a star! In theory, I could hear my own voice saying for decades… don't hold things in, be in touch with your feelings, welcome new ideas, use humor as a survival feature, relentlessly pursue the teaching - and learning - involved in the acquisition of strategies of living leading to greater joy and understanding among people. With this philosophy of life in place, this could not really be happening. Ah, but in practice - and I was a novice in this area - there was no offer of immunity, no trade-off forthcoming as a reward for conscientious effort and even good health! The nodding heads of everyone who has suffered the cruel indignity of having to admit to illness will serve as recognition of my plight.
There was another piece of the puzzle that I had not factored into the equation: I had finally, sadly, frustratingly realized that my twelve-year marriage was in dire trouble and I was terribly unhappy, disappointed and hurt. We both tried to comprehend each of our needs in the hope of assisting the relationship. We were in the midst of building a business together and the rigors of that and his ever-growing inner tension and personal turmoil brought unbearable stress to both of us. I held fast to the notion that I could manage, that I would wait out his crisis, but our differences became difficulties and the stress turned to distress and certainly must have exacerbated what I did not even know was brewing. Our tenacity and drive proved inadequate and the disappointment and strain were immeasurable. We cannot discount this level of stress and the disarming role it plays on our bodies. No doubt he was as unhappy as I was, daunted by my health issues and not altogether pleased with my new-found friendships in cardiac rehab - and what he interpreted as separateness from him.
So many of us either have momentary lapses or have yet to learn that self-love, wholeness, must be present so that when a relationship ceases to exist, we can rely on our positive self-regard and continue to flourish without that alliance. In the presence of catastrophe, it is essential that this concept be strong and ever-present. It granted me sufficient motivation to sustain me even as my body seemed to conspire against me, but it was hard work.
Women and Heart -- my journey -- and yours??
The first blog got lost somewhere in cyberspace, so here is is:
I'm a first-time blogger, hoping to reach a vast audience of women, in particular, but, of course, not only. My subject: heart disease! I know, I know, it doesn't sound like fun, but my personal journey, lessons learned and boundless challenges may help save lives. Yikes -- that sounds cocky - so NOT me! I am a psychotherapist and my on-going story of self-healing is rather unusual: I had three heart attacks, two of them major, all in one week in 1998, and I'm still here, still learning, still the eternal realistic optimist! I want to write about my experiences and share some of my own thoughts, feelings and coping strategies with as wide an audience as possible, so I'll write as often as I can and perhaps you will read, enjoy, respond... this is quite exciting!!
I'm a first-time blogger, hoping to reach a vast audience of women, in particular, but, of course, not only. My subject: heart disease! I know, I know, it doesn't sound like fun, but my personal journey, lessons learned and boundless challenges may help save lives. Yikes -- that sounds cocky - so NOT me! I am a psychotherapist and my on-going story of self-healing is rather unusual: I had three heart attacks, two of them major, all in one week in 1998, and I'm still here, still learning, still the eternal realistic optimist! I want to write about my experiences and share some of my own thoughts, feelings and coping strategies with as wide an audience as possible, so I'll write as often as I can and perhaps you will read, enjoy, respond... this is quite exciting!!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Blog #2: I teased you yesterday about writing often... here it comes: right out of the pages of my journey, written but unpublished (so far)... The Heart of a Woman - the introduction. I hope you will want more and more, since I am one of those total givers!
Soon after I wrote my manuscript, my cardiologist called and asked me to do an interview with her for Eyewitness news on Channel 7 in New York. It was a piece focusing on women's risks for and frequency of heart attacks and possible preventive measures. For too many years, the "Church of Modern Medicine", in the vernacular of the remarkable Dr. Robert Mendelsohn, has addressed heart problems in studies and in the media with regard to men; yet is a leading killer of women, whose symptoms often are quite different from those of men. We need more information, education, research and discussion to send the signal to the majority (women now comprise 53% of the population). Needless to say, I was flattered and enthusiastic that my rather remarkable doctor chose me from among her many patients, telling me she thought I would be "perfect" for the piece!
I was oddly calm, probably because of having done a fair amount of guest speaking over the years in my own field and likely due to our mutually comfortable relationship.
Expertise comes in so many forms: when I conduct workshops for parents on enhancing discipline and communication skills, invariably I am initially regarded as "the expert". Quick to dispel such an unwieldy notion, I give over that title to the parents, who will always know their children in ways that I could not. After thirty-five years as a psychotherapist specializing in counseling families and couples, and children and adolescents with learning disabilities, I have a profound sense of appreciation of the myriad coping mechanisms necessary just for daily survival. Little did I know that direct experience, literally with my own heart, would increase my wisdom many-fold and bring me to new levels in my own school-for-living.
I was a "school psychologist" type of kid by the age of ten, known for my words of wisdom, doled out to my peers who could not have been any less lost than I. Somehow, though, I had an inborn knack for sensing the needs of others, even without benefit of true wisdom that indeed comes only in combination with experience and perspective. Coupled with a need to express myself to others, it would serve me well in many aspects of my adult life and allow me to touch the lives of many people. It was not surprising when that ten-year-old became a psychotherapist, known as a "hands-on" educator, a no-nonsense person, an encouraging source of information and a guide/mirror, gently but firmly urging people toward improving the quality of their lives.
My role on Eyewitness news was not as therapist, but as patient: I was thrust into this role of "heart patient" after the experience of my own massive, totally unexpected heart attacks. Having to "heal myself" has proven to be a difficult task, requiring the acquisition of even more inner strength and skills than I could have imagined. The roller coaster ride has provided ample opportunity to learn and grow.
The blocked vessel responsible for my attacks is of the type that generally causes immediate death; why, then, did I survive not one, not two, but three such attacks, all in one week? My mother says that it is and was predicated on my role as the center of the Oreo cookie, sandwiched between and loved by her and my daughter, precious sentiment, filled with truth and so typical of my amazingly wise, articulate Mom.
I embarked on writing about this journey because of my true desire to communicate with anyone who might learn from my experiences. Writing has always felt like an unanswered "calling", a way of reaching an audience beyond my inner circle, through which I could share my thoughts, feelings and knowledge. My reactions to the most recent experiences in my life represent the culmination of more than half a century of thinking and learning that have propelled me to utilize my passion for writing to bring compassion, comfort and energy to patients, families and friends of heart patients, especially and most pointedly female patients.
The lessons I have learned, ever unfolding, need to be shared, because that it happened bears at least equal attention to the results of it having happened. I consistently hear that there is not enough attention given to the emotional reactions of heart patients in the aftermath of such utterly terrifying "events" - an irritating term and new pet peeve. An "event" is a planned, enjoyable, memorable evening at the theater or a party, or perhaps a news story warranting attention. A heart attack is an assault, a shock, a disaster, stunning, terrifying and unwanted, not an event. The euphemism is used by insurance companies as well as physicians, as in "No, we will not allow you to continue your cardiac rehabilitation classes, since you have failed to have another 'event' ". If that's “failure”, it would change all definitions of the word!
Oprah Winfrey is a perfect example of a well respected lay person who genuinely and fervently believes that we are all here for a purpose. The realizations and changes, challenges and transformations provoked by the past several years have compelled me to write this book and have given me a sense of purpose and a concrete reason for my survival. Since my aim is not only to survive but to thrive, I hope these writings will serve as a catalyst for everyone out there. Near tragedy can become a starting point propelling us toward honest self-reflection, willing us out of pain, grief, fear or disease. Dr. Phil McGraw teaches us that if your conscious strategy for living needs revision, this is the time to get on with life, leaving demons and denial behind. I would add that the “three C’s – conscience, conscientiousness and consciousness serve us all. (My attempt and desire for this book to assist others will be most glaring in the use of italics!)
Some of the details of the earlier stages of my disease are blurred, not because of the time lapse, but due to the amounts and types of drugs used to quell the pain and sedate me during the most horrifying initial moments and hours. The clarity of my feelings remains permanently etched in my brain: I was not sure that I would survive, and, for just a fleeting moment, not sure that I could work hard enough to achieve survival. The essence of that moment and the inevitable freefall of emotions, most poignantly the depression that followed months later, may be familiar to the many people who have lived through similar experiences. I am fortunate in that I have a small, strong, wonderful support system and the willingness, ability and need to allow them to positively affect me. Some of what I have learned came from new friends/compatriots at the Cardiac Care Center where I attended supervised exercise classes for one hour, three days a week, four more than three years. I will introduce you to several of these people as we go along. They have become important to me and I will forever be in their debt for their contribution to my life. It is unimaginable to me that anyone could ride this storm alone. If this writing helps any of those people, I will forever feel rewarded by having made that kind of contribution to them. I hope that my awakenings will inspire you as you reach toward clarity, courage and the passion to thrive.
Next: more of the same, with a hopeful flair here and there to keep you interested and peak your curiousity. Thanks.......
Soon after I wrote my manuscript, my cardiologist called and asked me to do an interview with her for Eyewitness news on Channel 7 in New York. It was a piece focusing on women's risks for and frequency of heart attacks and possible preventive measures. For too many years, the "Church of Modern Medicine", in the vernacular of the remarkable Dr. Robert Mendelsohn, has addressed heart problems in studies and in the media with regard to men; yet is a leading killer of women, whose symptoms often are quite different from those of men. We need more information, education, research and discussion to send the signal to the majority (women now comprise 53% of the population). Needless to say, I was flattered and enthusiastic that my rather remarkable doctor chose me from among her many patients, telling me she thought I would be "perfect" for the piece!
I was oddly calm, probably because of having done a fair amount of guest speaking over the years in my own field and likely due to our mutually comfortable relationship.
Expertise comes in so many forms: when I conduct workshops for parents on enhancing discipline and communication skills, invariably I am initially regarded as "the expert". Quick to dispel such an unwieldy notion, I give over that title to the parents, who will always know their children in ways that I could not. After thirty-five years as a psychotherapist specializing in counseling families and couples, and children and adolescents with learning disabilities, I have a profound sense of appreciation of the myriad coping mechanisms necessary just for daily survival. Little did I know that direct experience, literally with my own heart, would increase my wisdom many-fold and bring me to new levels in my own school-for-living.
I was a "school psychologist" type of kid by the age of ten, known for my words of wisdom, doled out to my peers who could not have been any less lost than I. Somehow, though, I had an inborn knack for sensing the needs of others, even without benefit of true wisdom that indeed comes only in combination with experience and perspective. Coupled with a need to express myself to others, it would serve me well in many aspects of my adult life and allow me to touch the lives of many people. It was not surprising when that ten-year-old became a psychotherapist, known as a "hands-on" educator, a no-nonsense person, an encouraging source of information and a guide/mirror, gently but firmly urging people toward improving the quality of their lives.
My role on Eyewitness news was not as therapist, but as patient: I was thrust into this role of "heart patient" after the experience of my own massive, totally unexpected heart attacks. Having to "heal myself" has proven to be a difficult task, requiring the acquisition of even more inner strength and skills than I could have imagined. The roller coaster ride has provided ample opportunity to learn and grow.
The blocked vessel responsible for my attacks is of the type that generally causes immediate death; why, then, did I survive not one, not two, but three such attacks, all in one week? My mother says that it is and was predicated on my role as the center of the Oreo cookie, sandwiched between and loved by her and my daughter, precious sentiment, filled with truth and so typical of my amazingly wise, articulate Mom.
I embarked on writing about this journey because of my true desire to communicate with anyone who might learn from my experiences. Writing has always felt like an unanswered "calling", a way of reaching an audience beyond my inner circle, through which I could share my thoughts, feelings and knowledge. My reactions to the most recent experiences in my life represent the culmination of more than half a century of thinking and learning that have propelled me to utilize my passion for writing to bring compassion, comfort and energy to patients, families and friends of heart patients, especially and most pointedly female patients.
The lessons I have learned, ever unfolding, need to be shared, because that it happened bears at least equal attention to the results of it having happened. I consistently hear that there is not enough attention given to the emotional reactions of heart patients in the aftermath of such utterly terrifying "events" - an irritating term and new pet peeve. An "event" is a planned, enjoyable, memorable evening at the theater or a party, or perhaps a news story warranting attention. A heart attack is an assault, a shock, a disaster, stunning, terrifying and unwanted, not an event. The euphemism is used by insurance companies as well as physicians, as in "No, we will not allow you to continue your cardiac rehabilitation classes, since you have failed to have another 'event' ". If that's “failure”, it would change all definitions of the word!
Oprah Winfrey is a perfect example of a well respected lay person who genuinely and fervently believes that we are all here for a purpose. The realizations and changes, challenges and transformations provoked by the past several years have compelled me to write this book and have given me a sense of purpose and a concrete reason for my survival. Since my aim is not only to survive but to thrive, I hope these writings will serve as a catalyst for everyone out there. Near tragedy can become a starting point propelling us toward honest self-reflection, willing us out of pain, grief, fear or disease. Dr. Phil McGraw teaches us that if your conscious strategy for living needs revision, this is the time to get on with life, leaving demons and denial behind. I would add that the “three C’s – conscience, conscientiousness and consciousness serve us all. (My attempt and desire for this book to assist others will be most glaring in the use of italics!)
Some of the details of the earlier stages of my disease are blurred, not because of the time lapse, but due to the amounts and types of drugs used to quell the pain and sedate me during the most horrifying initial moments and hours. The clarity of my feelings remains permanently etched in my brain: I was not sure that I would survive, and, for just a fleeting moment, not sure that I could work hard enough to achieve survival. The essence of that moment and the inevitable freefall of emotions, most poignantly the depression that followed months later, may be familiar to the many people who have lived through similar experiences. I am fortunate in that I have a small, strong, wonderful support system and the willingness, ability and need to allow them to positively affect me. Some of what I have learned came from new friends/compatriots at the Cardiac Care Center where I attended supervised exercise classes for one hour, three days a week, four more than three years. I will introduce you to several of these people as we go along. They have become important to me and I will forever be in their debt for their contribution to my life. It is unimaginable to me that anyone could ride this storm alone. If this writing helps any of those people, I will forever feel rewarded by having made that kind of contribution to them. I hope that my awakenings will inspire you as you reach toward clarity, courage and the passion to thrive.
Next: more of the same, with a hopeful flair here and there to keep you interested and peak your curiousity. Thanks.......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
