Heart to Heart

March 3, 2016 was a day that forever altered my life. It was the day that my heart broke, literally and figuratively.

The day began like every other day. There was the frantic pace of getting my daughter ready for school, conversing with my spouse about the daily news and getting myself situated for work while simultaneously grabbing bites of breakfast. There was nothing unusual about the day.

I logged onto my employer’s virtual network and started my day. I never anticipated anything other than an uneventful working day. As the day progressed, my body started sending me signals. My chest became tight and my breathing labored. Initially I thought that I was perhaps having a reaction to something I ate the night prior. I tried to ignore it, but it started to worsen and I felt myself breathless and unable to communicate to my clients. I called for my wife who was upstairs to inform her. She came downstairs and played it off by saying.

“Honey, you probably have gas, you will be fine”

I responded by saying,

“you are probably right” and logged back into the phone.

I continued for a few more calls and then said to myself, "this is no gas pain, something else is wrong”, I told myself. I explained again to my spouse how I was feeling and my spouse responded in a way that any spouse would respond when they feel their better half is acting silly.

“honey, your fine!”

But I was not fine and I knew it. I explained to my wife, that I thought I should go to the hospital. She again thought that I was being silly as she, after all, knows me well. I didn’t listen. I logged off my work computer and went to my car to drive myself to the hospital. In hindsight, I am not sure why I thought that it was a good idea to drive myself to the hospital feeling the way I did. Every stop light seemed to increase the pain I was feeling. My breathing felt even more labored and the pressure in my eyes more intense. My vision started to blur.

By some act of faith, I managed to make it to the hospital without crashing and found myself stumbling through the ER doors into a chaotic seen. It was a scene straight out Grays Anatomy. Grim, dire, lots of blood, tears and people in pain. The questions asked of me were fast and furious. I don’t recall all of them, but I do remember the triage nurse calling me “stupid” for not taking my blood pressure medication. I remember her looking at me with disgust prior to pumping me with some concoction of medication and then handing me off for further tests.

The next few hours were spent with more tests, more pricks of the needle and lots of crying, feelings of being alone and a constant visual reminder of the carnage that goes on in hospitals. I was alone and I thought I was going to die. Most of the staff that interacted with me did not look me in the eye, they did not tell me what was wrong with me and I did not speak with a doctor till hours later. I was not comforted or consoled, but rather left standing in cold hall ways for more tests. Half-naked and clad in hospital garb, surrounded by strangers feeling their own pains, I cried. I didn’t know what else to do. It was in this one moment of sadness that I experience my first act of human compassion. A man, who was at least in his 80s, frail and using the support of a walker, made his way over to me, he didn’t say anything, he pushed himself up, reached out his arms and embraced me. Two men, strangers, embracing and supporting each other. Brought together by two different circumstances, but both feeling their own pains. He patted me on the back and said “God will take care of you!” With that, he steadied himself back on his walker and slowly moved away.

Fast forward...

I will skip the details of the rest of the experience as it was not pleasant. Needless to say, the diagnosis was as expected. My chest pains were as a result of a heart attack. I wasn’t even 40 years old! A couple of days later I had been discharged from the hospital. I was now a card-carrying member. A strange new device called a stent had been implanted into my arteries and I had a bag full of medication and no explanation on how to use them. This is where the real pain began

Overcoming the pain of the heart attack was relatively simple. Those chest pains were gone, but now I was feeling a new kind of pain. The kind of pain that doctors can’t explain but rather try to whittle away by describing anti-depressants or other drugs. More drugs!

I had never taken such a concoction of drugs before, save for the occasional blood pressure medication. The drugs prescribed to me made me violently sick. I started to bleed internally, experienced severe bouts of vertigo and stomach pains. My mood soured. I was depressed and suicidal. The lights in the grocery store bothered me and I felt as though I was an addict of some sort. My friends, family and coworkers didn’t understand. I was acting strange all the time. I spent the next few months living my life as an emotional wreck. I was embarrassed.

During this period, I did my best to eat healthy, I quit all junk food, cleared out my pantry, but still it was not enough. I was still feeling depressed. I pleaded with my doctors to take me off the meds, but implied that it would be dangerous to do so. One faithful day, I had enough. Upon a follow up visit to my cardiologist, I asked him about alternatives to the medication, he had none. I tried to explain to him how I was feeling and his response was to take more medication or “suck it up”. Truth be told, he had a terrible bed side manner. He was rude and abrasive. I asked him “what about the gym?” He responded to me by saying, “Mr Rudd, your heart can’t take physical fitness at this time!” I didn’t listen to him. I have never been much of a buyer. I’ve always been one to challenge authority. Its been a source of strength and at times caused me a great deal of struggle. But I was not sold on his idea of my health and wellness future and so I ignored him. I threw away all of my medication save for the blood pressure medication. I freely admit that ignoring your physician can be a terribly bad idea, I do not advocate for this approach, but I had to seek out my own path.

I left his office determined to find my own path. I drove straight to the gym and signed up for a year-long commitment. This was pretty ambitious since I hadn’t been to the gym in years. I signed up and went upstairs. I was so eager to get started that I ignored the rules of conduct for the gym which specifies that you must wear proper apparel when using the fitness facilities. I caught the eye of a staff member who must of thought that I looked silly working out in a pair of khaki pants and a golf shirt. She asked me if I was a member to which I responded “I just signed up today and was so eager to start” She kind of giggled as if she had heard this before and explained to me the rules for my next visit and walked away.

First day at the gym:

That was three years ago. She and I both laugh at this. She remembers that day as do I. Four waist sizes smaller, 80 lbs lighter and a whole lot of miles run. I am no longer the same person. It took me years to fundamentally alter my mental, nutritional and physical well-being. The sacrifice was worth it as I am now able to live the life I have always wanted to live.

Me now:

The whole experience taught me that life is worth living. Every struggle we face is merely an obstacle in the road to which can overcome with grit and determination. Trust in your gut and tell yourself that you deserve better. Change is possible and if I can overcome, so can you.

~Christopher Rudd~

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