Welcome back... or, for first-timers, please read from the bottom up!
"Home to Stay" continues, with more experiences and more possibilities to thrive...

You will notice that I consistently extol the virtues of having a network of supportive people around you. I am aware that not everyone has such a "team", in which case the time has come to join a support group, whether social or therapeutic, or perhaps begin with a counselor, psychologist or other professional with whom you can share your innermost feelings and fears. No one should have to endure this saga alone. With all my natural strength, positive attitudes, knowledge and training, I needed every moment of advice and solace I sought and still do. Please be neither embarrassed by nor avoidant of the level or types of need fulfillment you are experiencing. As a survivor seeking ways of thriving, you are entitled to whatever services your community has to offer.
The next ten-day period would be most eventful: I would see my internist, who was the Executive Director of Mount Sinai's Women's Health Center, with whom I had a wonderful relationship; don a holter monitor which would record every heart beat for a full twenty-four hours; and return to the cardiologist for yet more news.
The visit to my internist, with whom I had only spoken since heart attack numbers one and two, began with greeting each other with a long hug. I was armed as was my custom with a three-by-five card filled with questions, an excellent shortcut and the best way I know of to insure that no matter what time constraints the doctor may have, he or she has to respect your completing that list. It also helps you to focus without relying on your memory, so that you avoid returning home and only then realizing what you forgot to mention. She had been genuinely taken aback by the news and was filled with endearing well wishes. She agreed to serve as the nucleus of my growing army of physicians and supporters, all test results to be sent to her office and any modifications duly noted on my chart. I advocate establishing this system as a simplifier, a sort of centralized catalogue of information. There was nothing to be added at this time but she did reassure me that the healing would continue and there was a chance that some of the scarring would resolve, enabling my heart to work more efficiently. She is also a hematologist and would handle monitoring the effect of the blood thinners, pivotal to preventing further incidents. She went so far as to imply that I would soon have even more at my disposal than I knew in the arsenal of treatment. I needed the details of that alluring hypothesis to wait until I was ready to avail myself of whatever she had in mind. It is not helpful to have a carrot held so far from your reach that the effect is actually negative. I was dumfounded by my ability to not know every conceivable detail. All I wanted was the magic wand response that every patient not-so-secretly hopes for, and I am a slow healer, so time was both on my side and a tease. I longed to hear sentiments like "this will not affect your life span", "you can expect to return to life as usual shortly", "you have been through the worst of it already". I knew rationally that these would be nothing more than absurdly scripted phrases, too empty to serve their purpose.
I think the most gratifying question-and-answer session I have had to date took place with her that day:
"I want to be able to ignore all these little twinges and peculiarities instead of being on red alert so frequently".
"Go ahead and do just that!", she replied. Music to my ears, but with symphonic complexity and not to be taken too literally…
The holter monitor records every heartbeat for twenty-four hours: the results were dismaying. During one, half-hour period between two and two-thirty in the morning, while sound asleep, I had had fifty-two extra beats. There were other "hot spots", too, but this was most alarming. For now it meant taking a slightly higher dose of one of the prescriptions, but was not described as foreboding. According to the cardiologist, with whom I felt comfortable and secure, I was on the right track. A full month finally had passed, but we would not know how well the stents were working for another five. It would be difficult to wait that long to hear some good news, but "positivity" was an ally.
I was walking every day, though never alone, once venturing by car with my husband to a nearby pretty park with a pond to fulfill my one-block hike. I also decided not to wait any longer to return to work, since I have a home office. I called some of my clients and scheduled a few sessions, which was a good distraction and served its purpose - and assuaged some of the growing guilt of "abandoning" them. On balance, it was more difficult than I could have imagined, beckoning me to concentrate intensely, but well worth the result of returning me to the familiar role of giver. If your situation is similar, and your doctor concurs, I would return to a reasonable work schedule as soon as possible. It can have an enlivening effect.
Still plagued by any strange sensation or irregular heart beat, particularly at night when reactions are heightened, I was frequently panic stricken, wondering if number four was lurking in my midst. There was one moment that I had a stabbing pain I tried desperately to ignore, but the gig was up when my friend called serendipitously, just to check in, and basically ordered me to report to the cardiologist, even though it was Saturday night. What with malpractice suits skulking in the foreground of most physicians' minds, I was afraid I would be told to come to the emergency room, not exactly my favorite destination. Instead, the head of the department happened to be on call and had no qualms about telling me that signs of recovery and healing take many forms, not all pleasant, but this did not seem ominous to her. If she could express such confidence, it made sense to accept it. Lesson learned: make the call! In this case, it was self-protective, non-alarmist and positive.
Someone had forgotten that ribbon you're supposed to break through at the finish line, but no matter; this was my first solo trek, and, bottom line, I had arrived!
Avid about regular mammography and breast sonography, I had added that to an already long day. In general, a somewhat unpleasant, but no-big-deal event - there's that word again - it elicited my vulnerability, particularly in light of the soreness on the side of my chest which could have been mimicking cysts or... I found myself in tears while lying on the table being examined by a physician I had met just once. I explained the circumstances of the past month that led to my hyper-emotional response and she was sympathetic. I felt like a little kid at the pediatrician's office, immersed in self-pity and probably baseless fear, Pavlovian perhaps, and therefore unavoidable. The mere thought of receiving more news to process was paralyzing. Of course, I was fine, just a little unnecessary squeamishness, a perceived lapse in coping suitably. I was groping for strength and was hardly proud to be such an obvious wreck, explicable but still unsettling, another reminder of the arduous struggle that actually had just begun. It is so important to remind yourself that it is human and expected that you will have moments that tap into your natural apprehension and cause you to react, sometimes even over-react. I wish I had recognized and befriended it as acceptable and permissible, allowing me to be more intentional and logical about not over-scheduling my day. It was probably a mistake to have gone for the test alone, but I had not properly judged my own need, a common error. My physical healing would be inexorably linked to my level of psychological acceptance and the fight would be arduous. Seizing the immense opportunity for learning from living this apparent nightmare had to be absolutely primary. My surviving had been only the beginning: the gates leading to the ultimate goal of thriving were coming into view. The unraveling of my marriage was unfortunate but not unusual. It also served as an opportunity to change my life, to head in directions I may never have thought possible, to become more self-reliant. In so doing, self-love and hope ultimately replace anger and fear.