Three Months Later…

Most of the time it annoys me when a blog post starts off with, “Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. I’ve been… <<insert things like busy, on vacation, had writer’s block, etc etc here>>”.

Well, sorry it’s been so long since my last post. Not to make excuses or anything, but five days after my last post was published here I suffered a massive heart attack. You can read all about that really shitty day here.

And here we are, three months to the day since that fateful event.

I’m alive and kicking. Physically, I feel really good. Better in fact, than I have in years. Coronary artery disease is a slow progressing illness. Like my cardiologist said, “It’s not like your arteries clogged up over night. It’s been happening slowly, probably over a decade”.

A week or so before the “event” I was walking up one of Seattle’s steep hills and I got a sharp pain in my chest and was pretty much winded. At that time I just figured I was old, fat and out of shape. Little could I imagine that a few days later I’d be lying in the cardiac ICU with two stents in my heart and listening to the doctor say, “If you’d waited 20 minutes to call 911 you’d be dead.”

I *was* old, fat and out of shape, but not enough to cause chest pain and shortness of breath.

Today, I’m still old. But I’m 25 pounds less fat and in far better shape. I can walk that same hill today at twice the speed and with no chest pain or shortness of breath. (Yeah, the legs still burn a little, but that lessens every day.)

I’ve been to several real estate events since “the day” and invariably people that haven’t seen me since before the heart attack say, “Wow! You look great!” I don’t notice the weight loss much since I look at myself in the mirror every day, but I sure can tell in the way my old pants fit. One of these days I’m going to go through airport security with no belt, raise my arms in the body scanner, and everyone is gong to get a lot closer look at my narrowing ass than they want to.

People ask how I’ve lost the weight. It’s really a matter of portion control, eating healthier food, and moderate exercise. My diet used to be atrocious. When I was in the hospital, a dietician asked me about my eating habits. The conversation went like this:

Her: How many times do you eat fast food?

Me: In a week?

Her: Sure

Me: Five.

Her: You eat fast food five times a week??

Me: OK, eight. Sometimes ten.

<<long conversation ensues>>

Her: What about sodas?

Me: Love them!

Her: How many?

Me: In a day?

Her: Sure.

Me: Six.

Her: You drink six soda’s a day? Diet or regular?

Me: Regular, but hey I used to drink ten a day. So six is better.

Her: You realize that is 900 calories a day just from sodas right? That stuff can kill you.

Me: Let’s not talk about dying while I lie in a cardiac intensive care unit. Yeah, I know. But I’m telling you that if you tell me I can never have another cheeseburger, or never drink another soda again, that I’m going to fail.

And you know what? The dietician was super cool. She said no, I didn’t have to stop eating and drinking things I enjoyed. But that I did have to cut back, a LOT, and substitute healthier foods, or that I would end up right back in that ICU. Or worse.

Worse that being in the ICU = dead.

So that’s what I’ve done. I’m down to six or seven sodas a week now. That’s down from forty two. Sometimes I don’t even finish the can. While I still like soda, drinking one is starting to taste like drinking a can of maple syrup. And please, don’t tell me to drink diet soda. That stuff tastes like ass (or at least what I assume ass tastes like). Besides, if you think diet soda is even remotely healthy, you’re fooling yourself.

42 sodas a week? Good Lord, how stupid was that? And I’ve had three fast food meals in the last three months. That’s down from one hundred and twenty over a typical three month period in my recent past.

It’s a wonder I didn’t die of a coronary years ago.

My salad intake (go easy on that dressing people. That stuff is full of sodium) has increased infinitely. Ditto with the fish consumption. Rather than having red meat twice a day, every day, I eat a lot more chicken and fish. And some days I eat no meat {gasp!}. I’m cooking at home far more often, which oddly enough is cheaper, tastes better and is a lot better for you than eating out.

And I walk. Every day.

No, I’m not going to be winning a marathon (or even a 10K) any time soon. I’m still quite terrified of over-stressing my heart. But my little FitBit step counter device tells me this is the walking and stair climbing I’ve done since I got the little gizmo shortly after my heart attack:

  

Not too bad if I do say so myself.

So physically, thing are good. I want to loose about 15 more pounds, and I would like to step up the cardio exercise and add in some strength training.

Mentally, things are a little more challenging.

Not to go all cliche on you, but staring death in the face messes with your head a little. I don’t particularly care for the first thought that usually pops in my head when I wake up in the morning — “Well, I didn’t die in my sleep of a heart attack.” It’s not like every waking moment is fixated on dying, not even close. But those thoughts do come and go. And trust me, when you feel a little flutter in your chest it is difficult to escape the “please no, not again” thought that races through your head.

But the docs tell me those are very normal feelings and will fade over time. They do seem to be fading. I don’t know if they will ever go away completely.

On the bright side, starting death in the face does allow you to put a whole lot of things in perspective. Life is full of minor annoyances — traffic, stupid people, the government, the economy. And those things are just that — minor annoyances. Life is a miracle. It is good. And I think a whole lot of people under-appreciate it.

Not me. Not any more. I love life. I love living. And I can’t wait to live some more.

I want you to love it, live it and enjoy it too.