11 years later, it is still my most defining moment. 

December 13, 2012, the day that redefined my life’s course, is now etched on my chest as a constant reminder. It was both life-saving and life-changing. Today, 11 years later, it is still my most defining moment. 

That was the day when I realized that my life was much more precarious than I ever imagined. The “episodes” I had been dealing with were more clearly defined. The pulsing pressure across my chest that would happen occasionally, along with the numbness of my hands that had once made me drop a cup of coffee onto a friend’s carpet, weren’t just age, stress, or exhaustion. They were heart attacks. 

For years, I had been having them and it wasn’t until that fateful Thursday that I learned what they truly were. It came on strong, but this time, I walked myself over to the emergency care center next door to my home. The staff couldn’t believe I had come there on foot, given the circumstances. Then again, I didn’t know what the circumstances were until they told me. 

Within an hour, I found out that I had suffered a heart attack. Another hour later, I found out that I had blockages in my arteries beyond anyone’s suspicion. An hour later, I was being prepped for my first surgery ever – a quintuple bypass. (the story of that day, right after it happened, was told here)

I also learned how lucky I was because, as the cardiologist explained, I was going to be “one of those guys who are completely healthy and then drops dead at 40.” It was a day of reckoning on many levels. 

People have asked me lots of questions about that day, except for one. No one has ever asked me about the most jarring aspect of it all. What was it about going from carefree to death’s door in hours that hit the hardest? 

Honestly, it was the fact that I remembered being wheeled into the operating room and seeing my reflection in the small corner mirror of the hallway. Then, there was nothing. It was timeless darkness until I woke up again the next morning. 

There was no pain, anxiety, or the passing of time. There was life. Then there was nothing. Then there was life again. If anything had happened to me during the ten or so hours in between, I would have had no idea. Life is here. Life is gone. In my moment of in-between, it was like nodding off on the couch. In an instant, it could all be gone and you’d have no idea. 

Suddenly, the idea of a world without me wasn’t just an abstract concept, but a real possibility. What would happen to my kids? What would be my legacy? What would the people in my life say about me when I was gone? 

In an instant, everything that was important was brought to the forefront of my mind. Everything that wasn’t important was pointless. Memories of stressing over social media, unreturned phone calls, and work issues were washed away. None of it mattered and I didn’t need to make an itemized checklist to realize it. I just knew in my heart. I realized that I had always known. 

My kids needed me more than any work colleague ever could. Projects could wait, but fatherhood couldn’t. With two children under the age of five, I knew where I was most important. I knew where I should prioritize my time. 

As far as what people would say about me, well that was a mixed bag. On one hand, I wanted to make some changes to my personality and approach to the world. I didn’t want to put a negative vibe out there or be remembered for being anything other than the best version I could be. So I set out to change that. 

I also know that the things some people would say about me weren’t necessarily about me. They were about them. The people who would tell my story would be the people I chose to put in my life. Some of those people didn’t need to be there anymore.  

I had heard their words for some time, but now, hearing their words again on the day after I opened my eyes to a new life, they hit a bit differently. It wasn’t that they hurt. It was that they served as a sign that maybe I had been surrounded by the wrong circle of people. 

Lifestyle changes were simple and swift. I changed my diet and fitness regimen on day one. That was easy. It was the change in attitude and company that took a while. 

Some people were gone right away and others took years to float away into the cornfield. In the end, I made the choice to value who I was and protect myself from unneeded anguish. For the first time in my life, rather than complain about those who were doing me harm, I sent away those who didn’t fit with who I wanted to be. That’s not to say that they were all bad people. They just weren’t my people. 

Today, this is who I am. The choices I make and the way I live my life aren’t a concerted effort, but rather my natural flow. I’m proud of who I’ve become, the work I put into the world, and the beautiful circle of loving people I have chosen to have in my life.  

As I now look at the date tattooed on my chest, it’s not just a reminder of survival but of a rebirth into a life lived with purpose and gratitude. I live every day as if it was my last day, because, if I know anything for sure, it’s that one day will be. 

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