Remember the entry from the day before my birthday, in which I described the bad tickers on my father’s side of the family?

And then the entry the next day, titled “But I Lived to See 57?“

Right.

I had a massive heart attack Wednesday night, followed by ventricular tachycardia that required them to zap me in the modern version of those paddles they used to use in medical dramas. I started feeling weird during my usual cardio-kickboxing workout, so I stopped it halfway through and cooled off. Had some Gatorade and water, and an orange. Sat on the couch. And WHOA. I really don’t know how I had the presence of mind to call 911, or make it to my front door to unlock it. The last thing I remember was the EMTs saying they were going to life me onto a stretcher, and the next thing I knew I was trying to pull out a breathing tube and vomiting on my back with the tube in.

The cardiac team put a stent in that releases some medication, they changed all of my blood pressure medications, and I’ll be on blood-thinners for a year and low-dose aspirin forever. A few days in the ICU, a night in regular care, and I came home Saturday.

I had some symptoms again yesterday morning, so I went back to the emergency department, had scans and tests, and although I am making a recovery that has been described by clinicians as “remarkable,” “astounding,” and “impressive,” I do have pericarditis, which is inflammation of the sac surrounding the heart muscle. I’m also dealing with a LOT of coughing because of the breathing tube, which irritated my airways.

Long story short, I’m damn lucky to be alive right now. The doctors, nurses, and techs said that if I had not been such a devotee of cardio-kickboxing, hiking, and avoiding meat, fried foods, and smoking, I would not have survived. SO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES, PLEASE.

Happy Halloween, all. Hug your loved ones.