Since this morning, I have been thinking about whether or not I would write a post today about what I experienced a year ago. I was more inclined to write about how these days I have been celebrating life with my family and my closest friends. It is always a good day to celebrate life but even more so when we celebrate a year of a second chance in life. For me, the second chance was a year ago. But then, I saw the theme of this weekend's engagement and I thought, maybe it was a coincidence or a signal to write about what happened to me a year ago.
A year ago. It was Friday, November 25th. In those days my mother was staying at home with us after having suffered a fall, in which she broke her arm. So that Friday morning, I was doing what I needed to do to help her get ready to bathe, but I didn't feel well. I had a tightness in my chest. At first, I thought maybe it was gas or maybe stress. But the pain became more acute and started to radiate to my arm. A little worried I took my blood pressure and I recall that I had it high in 17. So I told my husband, that day he was working from home. My mother heard that I wasn't feeling well and immediately started to say that I had to go immediately to the emergency room. After what she had experienced with my father, who for many years suffered from heart disease and had two heart attacks. my mother's alarm bells went off. At that moment, I was a bit scared too, so my husband took me to the hospital.
So we went to the hospital, which fortunately was not far from home, because already on the way there I was sure that I was about to have a heart attack. When we arrived at the emergency room, I felt like an elephant was squeezing my chest, but the first electrocardiogram they did showed no signs of a heart attack. By that time, we had already called a doctor, a cardiologist, friend of the family, who soon arrived.
When the cardiologist arrived, my electrocardiogram was already altered. It was a frightening few hours. And for the first time in my life, I thought I was going to die. They gave me morphine for the pain, and after a while, they took me for a catheterization.
I have vague memories of that moment. I was sedated. I was in pain and very cold. I was shivering from the cold while lying on the stretcher in the hemodynamics room while they were preparing me for the intervention. But at some point, I lost consciousness.
When I woke up, I had the feeling that not much time had passed. They were taking me on a stretcher to the ICU. I had the feeling that something was not right. I still had the discomfort in my chest. When they let my husband in and I saw his face my suspicions that something was wrong were confirmed. My heart attack had been caused by two blood clots blocking two arteries. Nothing could been done during the catheterization and I almost died during the procedure. My health condition was critical. The treatment was to inject anticoagulants in the hope that they would dissolve the clots but the prognosis for my condition was guarded. They would wait 48 hours to do another catheterization and see if the treatment had any results.
These days, I have been thinking about what I felt in those moments. Incredibly, I was much calmer than those around me. I had no fear or anxiety, but I was very concerned about my son. He was not with us because he was studying abroad. And I was very distressed to think that he was alone and anxious. I remember I asked the doctor to let me call him to talk to him so he could hear my voice even when it was forbidden in the ICU, and they let me.
That first night in the ICU I was still with chest pain. I remember the doctor on call kept coming up to me to ask if the pain was subsiding, but I remember that until I fell asleep I still had chest discomfort. The next morning when I woke up, the pain was gone. I saw the relief on the faces of the doctors. That I had no chest pain was a good sign. The treatment seemed to be working.
I spent that weekend in the ICU, and on Sunday, around noon, I was taken back to hemodynamics for a catheterization. On that occasion, I was not sedated or anesthetized for the procedure, and I will never forget the laughter and cheers of the doctors when they saw that there was no trace of the clots. That day, I was born again.
I spent a few more days in the hospital while my treatment was changed from injected anticoagulants to pills. For six months, I was taking warfarin and having regular check-ups of my coagulation.
A year later, I feel good. I have completely changed my eating habits and exercise regularly.
I try to take it easy, even if I don't always succeed. I never miss a chance to tell my loved ones how much I love them. I try to enjoy life every day. And I am very grateful to have another chance at life.
This is my response to the Weekend Engagement writing topics for this week. Thank you for reading!
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