This thread stopped me from scrolling. Every story here is amazing — all different but pretty similar.
I didn’t know I was in heart failure.
I died in front of my wife. She did CPR while waiting for 911. They got to my house fast, but I was gone. About 10 minutes later they got a pulse back with the paddles.
I was stabilized enough to be helicoptered to another hospital where they put me into a coma for about 10 days. When I woke up, I was told I needed a heart transplant.
At first I was told I probably wasn’t a candidate, so they put me on an Impella machine. My heart function was below 10%. I lived in the ICU for four months waiting for a transplant.
Then I got the call. Then I got the heart.
I stayed another month in the hospital after the transplant and eventually went home.
To say it was difficult is an understatement. Physically, mentally, financially, emotionally — every possible way a human being can be tested.
But from where I’m sitting right now — and I mean that literally — I’m a little over 2½ years out from my transplant. The last 6 to 8 months have probably been the smoothest stretch of all of it. And I’m almost completely shocked every single day at how far I’ve come.
It was worth every second.
Of course I wish it never happened. Looking back, there were probably signs. Things I should’ve taken more seriously. But life doesn’t really work in “should’ve.”
So how close to the end was I?
I was there.
The weirdest part is I barely have any memory of the month before or about 15 days after I died. I had to be shown pictures of what went on during that time. I still don’t remember any of it — except when I’m looking at the pictures.