Life can change in a heartbeat, quite literally. When I awoke on Thursday, June 12, 2014, I had no clue that a mere few hours later, I would be on a hospital gurney, with an IV in my arm and a tube up my vein to insert a stent into a collapsed artery in my heart. The day had begun quite normally. Light breakfast, a ‘normal’ gym workout with the intention to have  full schedule of therapy clients that would have taken me all the way to 7:30pm or so. That would be considered a ‘short day’, since there were some in which I wouldn’t cross my threshold until 9 pm or later. Imagine a pace like that for years at a time. Once home, I would be at the computer, writing articles, which is a true joy. Even so, my eyes wouldn’t close until close to midnight. Then there were times when they would flutter open a few hours later, as if I was being awakened by an insistent lover whose embrace I welcomed, but who didn’t quite get that this body needed rest and not just pleasure to sustain it.

When the actual event happened, I was in surrealistic shock, not quite believing it. It is an unfolding process, as I am finding.  Being a documentarian, I am called to write a lot about this, in spite of the feedback from two wonderful friends (both prolific writers) who have encouraged me to hold off and let this experience sink in, just for me. Hard to do, since writing is my medicine and I see this as a way to reach people with the vital message of self care.