The Day I Died and Lived to Tell About It
19th of Septmeber 2018
That pic to the left is of me at the gym. That was taken on a day that would change and continues to change my life. I will get into why in a bit. Look at the pic. I look healthy and ready to go. I might show off some exhaustion, but I don't look too bad as far as my health. I don't think so anyway. You'd think that I would go to work like anyone else. You'd think I would eat lunch and dinner all the same. You'd think I would shower and go to the bathroom as well. You'd think I would be ready for the day to start, and I would finish it by going home to get ready for the next day. I thought that as well. I felt good going into the gym. I was ready for another day in the gym and then go to work. I was ready to do my thing wherever it might have taken me. I planned to break the squat record that day just so I could keep myself going. I needed to challenge myself to do something that I could be proud of. And I did break it. However, I wouldn't remember due to what was about to come up for me next.
It happened on the stairmaster, everyone's favorite (sarcasm). It was a challenge for me, and I've always gotten positive results from it. I get a good sweat out of it, and my legs feel stronger after conquering it. That day, I wasn't going to feel anything positive. What was about to happen was going to be "shocking." I can't remember the day totatlly, so some details might not makes sense to most people. I'm learning more about this event every day. On the stairmaster after about 3 minutes, I appeared (on cameras at least) to notice something was wrong. I stopped the machine to try and gather myself, but I couldn't. I blacked out and fell backwards hitting my head on the ground. Some things I heard was that I convulsed a little and had blood coming from my mouth. One gym member tried to get me to wake up to no avail, and one of the trainers started CPR. While this was going on, another trainer called 911. The EMT's got there, and I don't have a lot of details on this except that they used a defibrillator on me to shock my heart to go again. Yes, I had a cardiac death. My heart wasn't pumping blood, so I wasn't getting oxygen to my brain (causing a minor stroke). I was rushed to the hospital after a while.
This is a pic of how I looked after all was said and done with the EMT's and the ER. This was taken in the ICU. I was there for a few days until I was put in a regular hospital room. The only thing I remember was waking up really groggy in the ICU asking what happened and my friend telling me what had happened to me. I wasn't even scared as much as confused. I think that must have been because of the drugs. I vaguely remember the few days after the incident. I remember nurses coming in with medicine one time, and I asked what they were. One of them was an anti-depressant, and I started to really wonder what was going on. What did I say in ICU or any other time I don't remember? I had family and friends tell me bits and pieces, and I still ask questions. I'm not a fan of anti-depressants, so I was annoyed that I was taking them. I was also not a fan of having to have a defibrillator put in as well. However, I didn't have a choice. I don't want to put my fellow gym members in that position again. I can't imagine the fear they had while watching this all go down. I can't imagine how something like that dampened their day and made them reflect on life for a while. Also, I really didn't want to fall on my head again. While it didn't hurt when I woke up, the hoops I had to jump through were less than pleasant. Very less to be honest.
Out of all of what had happened, the medical staff, my family and friends were keeping a close eye on me. They wouldn't let me do a lot that I felt I could do. Going to the bathroom was taxing at first because I had to have someone watch me go into the bathroom. If nobody was around, I had to call the nurse and wait. I realize they're just watching out for my best interests, but I just hated having to ask permission all the time.
After the hospital, I had to stay home from work for about a month. So I missed about a month and a half of work. I'm not totally opposed to that, but I could think of better ways to spend that time than in a hospital or even stuck at home. I was homebound for at least 2 weeks meaning I couldn't go anywhere but the necessities (grocery store, doctor appointments and get this, hair appointments). It all felt like solitary confinement. Obviously, it's a bit of a stretch because at least, I had light. However, how was I supposed to get exercise if I couldn't go anywhere? I couldn't go to the gym, and I knew that. Can't I just walk around the block or something? No.
When I was finally able to take walks, I made them long walks. The longest walk I took was 10 miles. That's the only way I could make walks challenging for me. This has been a challenging experience, but most of it has been a mental challenge. I flew off the handle a few times because it just plain sucked. It wasn't anyone's fault that this happened, but I was beyond pissed about the situation. I felt like I could go back it hitting the ground running. I had lots of restrictions, which I saw coming. I just died and was brought back just in time. However, I felt like people thought I was dead already. It didn't just feel like solitary confinement. In my head, I felt like I was already in the casket, or in my case, the urn since I'll be cremated. I felt buried alive. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't ask for help. I could only feel alone and helpless. I felt cornered, and when someone feels cornered, they lash out on anything just to get out.
I don't know what my take-away from this is, but I do know that I'm a changed man. I've started to refer to myself as the Dead Man Walking. Some think that's sadistic. However, it's my motivation. The fact is that I died and almost stayed that way. I didn't. I'm still walking. I'm still running. I'm still biking. I'm still kicking. I died. I'm a man. I'm walking. I'm a Dead Man Walking. I may have died, but that's not going to stop me from living. In fact, it's only going to make me do more than I've done before better than I've done before, more often than before and however many times it takes me to get right than ever before. I died, but I'm not dead yet.
