My physical strength and endurance is slowly waning as I age. My easy running pace gradually slowed from 7 minutes per mile during my prime to currently around 9 minutes. The pace feels the same, yet the times are noticeably slower. During the first quarter of this year, my running has been poor. My pace slowed to 10 minutes a mile which was a rapid decline. When I ran intervals at the track, my quarter, half, and full mile times were well under what I was doing in 2024. What caused this, I wondered?
I suspected that my slowness was due to two upper respiratory illnesses, before and after our February trip to southeast Asia. Each illness took three weeks to recover and there were periods that I walked instead of running. My chest had congestion, and I needed to recover before resuming normal activities.
A week ago, I ran in the morning and finished a full track session. I was mentally excited as I thought I was climbing back to normalcy, but the workout drained me physically. I quickly cleaned up and drove to Houston for a yearly doctor checkup. All my vitals were normal, and that afternoon, drove back to Austin. My chest felt like a brick was on it, an uncomfortable and unusual feeling. I called my GP, and she kindly scheduled me for the next day. I took Tylenol which helped relieve the discomfort.
The next morning, my gym workout was difficult, and I still felt poorly when I saw my doctor. She examined me and told me to go to the nearby Heart Hospital ER. She wanted the staff to check my heart. I really did not want to sit in the ER but obeyed her. I drove over and the ER receptionist was expecting me. I was quickly ushered into an examination room and an EKG was performed. Within a minute, the room was filled with nurses and a doctor. IVs were inserted, my clothes were quickly removed, and medical devices were placed on my body.
I was in shock, and asked, “Why are you all here?” A nurse replied, “You are having a heart attack.” The doctor told me that he needed to go up my arm artery and examine my heart. They wheeled me into the CATH lab, placed me on a cold table, and went to work. For two hours, I laid there sedated with a medical team working on me. I was calm until the doctor told me that I had two blocked arteries, one 100% blocked and the second 80%. If he could not insert a stent into the 100% blocked artery, then a double bypass heart surgery would be performed. At that point, I started to pray for the artery to be unblocked and the stent inserted. I was fortunate; the stent insertion was successful, and blood started to flow through my artery again.
I was wheeled into a hospital room and recovered over the weekend. On Monday, a second stent was placed in the 80% blocked artery and I quickly recovered. I went home that evening, sore and bruised with many needle marks. To my relief, my chest felt normal again. I walked slowly due to groin soreness from the second procedure. After three days of home recovery, I feel so much better. I am on the mend.
I realize now that there were past warning signs. My hardheadedness kept me from seeking earlier medical attention. I should have trusted my instincts and talked to my doctor with my declining fitness level. On the positive side, my years of exercising probably saved my life as I learned from the doctor that my body rearranged my blood flow to my heart after the blockage. My heart kept pumping despite the damaged veins. Strangely, my vitals and blood lipids did not show any heart problems. I had been under the care of a cardiologist for 20 years and many routine medical tests had been performed. I received a good checkup last fall from my cardiologist and GP. Yet, I had a heart attack in less than six months.
After 67 years, this was the first time I spent a night in a hospital. I have lived a blessed life, even if I had died last week. However, I am overjoyed to be given more time on earth, but I was not afraid of death. My anxiety was centered on the pain and the possible loss of normal existence. Cracking my chest open or being debilitated scared me more than death. I would rather have a shorter life functioning normally than living with agonizing pain or a major physical disability, although these choices are not up to me.
Death is part of life. I am mortal and will die. Earthly life is always waning. There are fewer years in the future than I have experienced in the past. I don’t fear death because my faith gives me such comfort. Christians are people of the resurrection. Easter is next Sunday; the day we celebrate Christ’s resurrection. Congregations will stand and joyfully sing Charles Wesley’s 1739 hymn, Christ the Lord is ris’n today, Alleluia! The Apostle Paul said it best: “Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. … Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:51–55).
I am in debt to the medical staff whose God-given gifts healed me. I am in debt to my family and friends who surrounded me with prayers, encouraging words, and personal visits. I am in debt to my wife who stood by my side through it all. This Holy week, I am in debt to Jesus Christ who suffered, died, and rose again to show us the way to true life that does not end with earthly death. Alleluia!
