Heart attack – Jimmy Locklear

The Moment When You Think Your Life May Be Over

I don’t know if everyone has one of these moments, but I suspect that there are many more folks than we are aware of who have a moment when seemingly everything important passes before their mental eyes and there is this fear of their life on earth being over. Well, I believe I have had at least two of these moments and perhaps three.

The most recent moment for me occurred on October 2, 2015. I was ushering at Turner Field for the St. Louis Cardinals versus Atlanta Braves major league baseball game. It was a chilly evening and I was at my assigned section Aisle 206, which is in the terrace level near home plate. It was not a huge crowd, but I’m usually pretty busy helping guests find their seats even when other parts of the stadium may have light crowds. It was the second inning and I had just been chatting with my sister who was at the game with my Mom. They preferred sitting in the outfield terrace, but my sister had come by my section to say hello.

This was my first season working for the Braves and it was just about over. Only one more home series. I’m semi-retired, I guess. I’ve received partial disability payments from my private insurance for over a year and have not been able to work fulltime since suffering a major heart attack in January of 2013. That experience became the basis of the first book I published – Sacred Heart Attack – and was life changing in many ways. I do some other project and consulting work while writing manuscripts for additional books. However, that heart attack in Montreal was not one of the times I felt like I was going to die. Even though I learned from the cardiologist that unblocked my left descending artery that I was in serious danger, I was conscious – in pain, but conscious – and thought that everything was going to be fine.

My youngest son Jed had worked for the Braves for the 2014 season and I was his primary transportation to and from the approximately 70 out of 81 games that he worked as a guest relations representative. For the 2015 season he was set to be on the promotions team and I had been thinking about being an usher and had talked to some of the ushers about their jobs. Eventually, that’s what I did. It was a challenging assignment at the beginning, both physically and mentally. Long hours of standing posed the biggest challenge. But I enjoyed baseball and had been a Braves fan and follower for many, many years; and I enjoyed relating to new people from all around the country. So, I was in the right spot. I had developed a few friends from my fellow gameday staff, too.

Just as I was finishing my conversation with my sister I started having a familiar pain combination of pressure and burning in the center of my chest. I breathed a couple of deep cleansing breaths, but nothing changed. I wondered if it was gas and excused my self to go to the Men’s Restroom. That didn’t help and the pain had risen to a 7 on that 10-point scale. I left the restroom and walked by one of my fellow ushers and told him that I was going to First Aid at aisle 211 to get my blood pressure checked. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and that he should tell our supervisor.

I walked in to the First Aid office and had about 14 eyes focused on me. I’m sure it was unusual to see a uniformed Braves employee walk into their office. I told a couple of the EMTs that I was having chest pain, that I’d had a heart attack before and that I’d like for them to take my blood pressure. They were happy to oblige and began asking me a few questions about the location and severity of my pain. My blood pressure was 170 over 105, which was extremely high for me since I took meds that generally kept my pressure down to 115 over 75. The EMT asked me to lay down on their examining table so that they could hook up the leads for an EKG. Before loading me into the ambulance, they wanted to see if the test could detect anything. They kept having trouble with one area. They couldn’t get a good signal, which can be a sign that there is a problem.

About this time, I told them that I had a small 200-doses can of Nitroglycerin Sublingual Spray that I always carried in my pocket. They said that I should go ahead and use it. I gladly complied with two short bursts in my mouth. I looked at my watch with the thought that in five minutes I would do it again if the pain continued.

This is when it happened.

There was not immediate relief, so, I started thinking this could be the end of things on earth. The EMTs began loading me on to a gurney and asked if I wanted to go to Grady’s ER or Emory Midtown Hospital. I said that Emory was my choice because that’s where my cardiologist practiced medicine and all of my records would be there. The two hospitals were equally close to Turner Field.

When I suffered 100% blockage of my LDA some 33 months ago, I didn’t really know how seriously my heart was being damaged by the cutoff of blood/oxygen flow. But now I knew the full ramifications of the pain I was experiencing. This was not heartburn, indigestion or acid reflux. And it wasn’t my gall bladder or pancreas. I no longer had a gall bladder and my pancreas pain would’ve been a little lower.

No, this was a coronary artery or two in major distress! And, suddenly, I didn’t want to die. Why was that surprising to me? You might ask, Doesn’t everyone feel that way?

Actually, no, everyone doesn’t feel opposed to dying all of the time. Over the past three years, I had grown accustomed to the idea that I might be passing on to heaven sooner rather than later. I even had a dream on February 28, 2014, while in the hospital suffering from pancreatitis, about going to heaven and what the first few hours might be like. And, of course, it was very pleasant!

As I’ve grown closer to God over the past few years, the experience of his presence was a powerful antidote to the difficulties and challenges of life. I wanted more of that experience and I think that is a good sentiment. And I realize the choice on when we pass on to glory is God’s decision and not ours. I had begun to get the idea that, for me, it might be sooner than one might expect.

My first thoughts were that I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t “put my affairs in order” as well as I would like. Jenny and Jed, Jameson and Justin would all be fine in figuring out where our will and life insurance information was and things like that. But I hadn’t prepared them for my being vacant from our family. In fact, I don’t know what all of that means. So, by writing this essay, I’m inviting that process for my family and for yours. Here’s one of my deep desires: we learn to befriend our death and celebrate the life that we have been given. Most of us would agree that life is a gift and most of you reading this essay have been given a life of privilege, wealth and all manner of life-enhancing blessings. Physical death is a result of the fallen nature of creation and all of us will experience death unless Jesus returns and completes the trifecta of his work with heaven on earth that followed his incarnation and death/resurrection/ascension.

So, let’s say that I wanted to celebrate a little more. Hang out a little more. Have “heaven on earth” fun a little more. I wasn’t ready to leave before seeing Jenny being able to rest after years of teaching and grad school and teaching. I wasn’t ready to leave before seeing Jed fully blossom into the man that God intends for him to be. I wasn’t ready to leave before seeing Justin on the biggest stage so that everyone could appreciate the wonderfulness of his presence in front of an audience or a camera. I wasn’t ready to leave before seeing Aberdeen reach her second birthday and then start working toward kindergarten. And I didn’t want to leave before seeing Bethany publish a book for the parents of medically complicated children and for Abby to be known as the General’s daughter.

Here’s the deal, though. I am ready to leave whenever God calls me to be in his physical presence. I’m ready because I haven’t let my dreams and desires die in me. I’m sharing them now and I’ll continue to celebrate life in the midst of heartache because there is a redeemer. The story we are in has an ending that is magical and wonderful and peaceful. Our world isn’t hurling through space with no destination.

The good news for me was that God showed mercy to me on October 2^nd. The nitroglycerin proved to be the proper antidote for artery distress, which was probably a coronary artery spasm. Subsequent echocardiograms and heart catheterization showed that my arteries were in good shape with nothing close to a blockage. So that spasm served me well. It opened my eyes to the continued blessing of life and re-kindled my mission to encourage you to befriend your death and celebrate your life that is in the hands of a loving and merciful Creator and a Savior who has bought you for good.

A Personal and Heart Update: The interplay of physical and spiritual

{One of the tools I’ve learned from my experience with the Wellspring Group is a “State of Your Heart” update. This is sort of a personal inventory of how you’re living life in terms of your own heart and God’s Larger Story. It is a way to provide a status report for those in your small group, work team or family/community. This was my update from last week.}

I’m still trying to figure out what just happened. For some three months, I’ve been feeling depressed with low energy. I had come to think that this was the new normal. And bouts with skin cancer and pseudo gout after pancreatitis and heart failure had me wondering if my body was just falling apart. I had lost interest in my writing, which was probably the most disappointing. At first, I had thought that I had just lost momentum from my illness in March, but as time went on that, too, seemed like just another body blow in a continuing string. My family and friends were aware that I didn’t seem to be myself in stressful situations or have the energy I once did. Some of you had probably noticed it, too.

I had a check up with my cardiologist on Thursday, September 25th. He did an EKG, checked my numbers from recent blood work, and other tests and all looked good. I had told him about the low energy and then he asked the magic question, “How is your depression?” I said that it comes and goes and I wasn’t really sure why. He said that I was less upbeat now than right after my heart attack when he first met me in January of 2013. I almost started to cry as I talked about my frustration. He said that depression is pretty common with heart attack survivors and that he looked for it. Since my internist had retired in August and I’m between personal physicians, he offered to write me a prescription for an anti-depressant medication. He also suggested that I reduce one of my heart medications by 1/4. I filled the prescription, but was hesitant to take it. I did, however, begin the reduced heart medication regime on Saturday the 27th. In a word, the change in my energy and attitude was like re-birth. Instead of dragging myself out of the house to go for a walk, I was running again. And I’ve run every other day since in increasing distance and reduced times. I’m writing again and have energy to do more of everything. Primarily, I feel better and am more hopeful.

Thinking: Did reducing that little bit of chemical compound make that much difference in my attitude and energy? Are my feelings of depression gone? Should I still consider taking the anti-depressant meds? Where is God in the midst of this?

Feeling: Freed from the fog of uncertainty. I’m patient to sit before God and listen for his direction. On Monday the 29th, as I read the Word and prayed, the Holy Spirit said, “Good to have you back.” Feeling loved, accepted, grateful.

Desiring: To do all that the Father tells me to do.

Commitment: To re-vision my personal future. To get back on track with the calling the Lord has given me to write and to help others write their stories.

Putting a bow on my 2014 General Assembly experience – Part 1

Juneteenth proved to be one of the more productive days for a PCA gathering as the annual assembly came to an end approximately a half-day early. I started the day with a quick shower and shave. I brush on the shaving soap and am now using my grandfather’s double-edged razor. That’s a #tbt for you. Then I was off to Starbucks for a latte, morning bun and banana. Next, I walked the mile to the Hilton where the GA was held for a half-hour meeting with Larry Bolden to discuss my writing workshops and how Wellspring Group might be able to use some of the concepts, and then we discussed the State of Your Heart book idea I’ve been thinking about for a couple of weeks. Larry loved the book idea, likes organizing the manuscript around themes and subjects. I explained that it had struck me recently that the SOYH updates that we do so often are effective teaching tools for those who read them and perhaps we should share those more widely. Larry suggested considering a 365-days format and that we could add some essays on how to write your own SOYH and some of my thoughts on journaling and examining our lives.

I then went upstairs to the Assembly business meeting to hear reports and vote on recommendations and nominations for committee members. In the Mission to North America report, the church planting report from Hutch Garmany who is planting a church in rural Trenton, GA, and Alejandro Villasana planting Christos Community Church a bilingual church in Norcross, GA, particularly inspired me. The plant in Trenton was launched by Rock Creek Fellowship on Lookout Mtn. and the one in Norcross is from Perimeter. I was impressed by their desire for heart level change and deep connections to Jesus not numbers and facilities. Many of the reports being given were from the committees that met on Monday and Tuesday.

Before lunch, we got started with the report of the Overtures Committee that is chaired by our good friend and fellow Intown elder Jim Wert. In truly an amazing move, Jim recommended that the committee’s report and recommendations be passed in omnibus and it did! Except for a handful of exceptions. He was doubtful, but the GA Moderator Bryan Chapell gave it a go and worked through a much simpler process to pass on the less controversial overtures. We, then, with Jim’s leadership, acted on a couple of the overtures that were pulled out of the omnibus action. We then recessed for lunch until 1:30.

During the break, I read a bit in Matthew 26 about Jesus’ suffering in Gethsemane. This is a very familiar passage to us, but I was particularly impressed with how Jesus ask his Father three times to take a way this cup of suffering and death. Might we be too timid in our request to the Lord to change our situations? Even Jesus asked three times, so we might feel free to ask the Father more than once, certainly. I also ate an apple, a peanut butter balance bar and a glass of water (inquiring minds…).

After lunch, I ran into Nathan Parker, an extended family (Phelans) friend who was recently called to Pinelands Presbyterian Church in the Cutler Bay suburb of Miami. He’s the senior pastor there since February. He said that it has been quite a cultural adjustment after spending the past three years in the UK earning his doctorate. Earlier in his vocational journey he was a youth minister (and probably other things) at ChristChurch in Atlanta. He sends his best to the Phelans, Intown and Atlanta.

Also, I had my all caps ENCOUNTER of the day when I talked with Dr. Marvin “Cub” Culbertson a ruling elder from Dallas. Cub has been in medicine (ENT doctor) for 68 years! There’s a major wing in a hospital in Dallas named after him. I talked about him in a previous blog. Yesterday, he was on the escalator behind me and asked, “How are we doing?”

I turned to discover a straw-hatted gentleman with a big smile and I said, “Great! How are you?”

And he replied, “As always, I’m better than I deserve.”

I then saw his nametag and said, “Dr. Culbertson! It’s great to see you!” I proceeded to introduce myself and reminded him that he had given me some advice back in 2008 at the GA in Dallas when I had a stomach virus. We had talked on the phone a couple of times and subsequently emailed each other.

He said, “Well, did my suggestions work?”

I said, “Yes. You suggested I go across the street to Denny’s and get some grits and some hot tea. And I felt much better after eating the grits and drinking the tea.”

He said, “Good. That’s why I’m here.”

Cub then took my hand and prayed for me and for himself. In his prayer, he looked forward to being with Jesus in heaven for both of us, but “sooner” for him he hoped. I asked him if I could give him a copy of my book “Sacred Heart Attack.”

“Of course! Can I share it with others?” he asked.

“Sure. Let me sign it for you.” I said.

He had already taken it and was asking me questions as he flipped through it. “Here, I like this page for you to sign, “ he said. It was the page with this quote on it from Henri Nouwen: The word lifts us up and makes us see that our daily, ordinary lives are, in fact, sacred lives that play a necessary role in the fulfillment of God’s promises.

How appropriate is that? Again, I felt God’s presence bringing a sacred moment in the midst of a busy day. That’s why He’s here.

To be continued…

Cardiac Rehab – Chapter 10 – My February 7, 2013 Reflection

I have been reading “Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year” by Henri Nouwen over the past three months. I have felt a strong connection with Henri for a few years, but I’ve recently felt an even greater kinship since getting to know his close friend Nathan Ball and also having a heart attack as Henri did twice and eventually died from the second attack in 1996.

Henri didn’t know that his sabbatical year was going to be his last on earth. He had written and published journal-style books a couple of times previously. Both “The Road to Daybreak” and “The Inner Voice of Love” were diaries of significant times in his life. Henri always wrote. And his interaction with God and others has made for instructional and inspirational reading for many, many people.

I have the feeling that I need to write for publication. I’m not sure if it’s because of my exposure to Nouwen and experiencing his books so profoundly or because writing comes naturally. I am able to share from my heart so readily. I have thought about turning my heart attack experience into a book.

It’s possible that my heart attack was a catalyst to get me to listen to God’s voice that has been calling me to write for some months, years. As I’ve mentioned before, there is a certain freedom that comes from a near death experience that I had only theorized about in the past. We all tend to theorize about life’s “what if’s.” If I won the lottery, I would…. The truth comes when we have the fulfillment of one of those “what if” scenarios.

I started a book in the summer of 2011 and had the manuscript pretty well completed by the beginning of 2012. I had asked a few friends to read it and received some good feedback, but the publishing process had stalled out, as I had no sense of urgency.

Sacred Heart Attack 2: Rehab – Chapter 9 – “What about all of that running?”

It was about two and a half weeks after my heart attack that I was talking to Lauren, RN with United Healthcare, about what had happened and how my recovery was going. The conversation was a bit of an odd experience. If you ever have a major illness or medical emergency, these days, a nurse from your insurance company will likely call you to see how you are doing and to offer suggestions. In my case, it was a welcomed voice in the midst of a rather quiet time of not doing anything, but waiting for my body to get stronger. {Of course, I was reading a bit and I had started journaling the events of Montreal that would eventually become my book Sacred Heart Attack.}

At some point in our conversation, I told RN Lauren about all of the running I had done over the last five years and being fairly active all of my life. She said that it was probably my running and the strength of my heart and lungs that allowed me to come through the heart attack. “Otherwise, you might not have survived,” she said.

I had heard some similar words from a nurse at Sacred Heart Hospital in Montreal. This reminded me of the fragility of life.

It was around this same time that I was talking to one of my good friends who had just seen an email from me regarding my experience of a heart attack. Milton had just found the email when he was looking through his junk mail folder before deleting the unwanted missives. I had sent him the email a couple of weeks earlier and he was traveling out of the country at that time, but when he saw my email he immediately sent me a text message. Then he called me on the phone to talk.

After I told Milton what had happened, he shared how he had just a few days earlier been in an ambulance with his brother-in-law who was having a heart attack as a result of blockage in the same artery where mine occurred. He said that unfortunately his brother-in-law didn’t make it. “Jimmy, if you had 100% blockage of your ‘widowmaker’ artery, you are unusually blessed, brother,” he said. “God must have something else for you to do.”

Milton’s words have rung in my ear for many days. As have the stories I’ve heard many times upon sharing my experience.

There’s always a decision I had to make during the first few weeks and months when I would see someone I hadn’t seen since January 9^th. Do I mention my heart attack or not? Especially when someone asked, “So, what’s new?” or “How have you been?”

Because I knew that my story, however brief, would lead to more questions or a story from the other person’s life. Whether someone shared about their personal heart event or someone they knew, they would feel compelled to share a story, Sometimes the story was happy and sometimes sad, but ultimately my story would become connected to theirs.

I’ll talk about this more in future chapters, but one of the things that seems to be important is sharing my stories publicly through my website and books. Not that God has made my life as a writer easier or the decisions on publishing simpler. And that’s been frustrating! I remember when I was a young Christian thinking that since God probably wanted me to have a platform for sharing my faith and being successful would provide that opportunity, it will probably be easier for me to be successful. Obviously, I had a me-centered theology at that point. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite for most of us. But what has changed is my willingness to take risks. I have an internal conviction that publishing is something I’m called to and must do. Having survived the worst-case scenario, gives me courage as long as I can lean into that place on a consistent basis. The tendency is to feel better and better until I forget that I almost died and begin to live in the fears and anxieties of “normal.”

Before I close this chapter, I’m happy to encourage folks to run, walk, and exercise because while we may not be able to change our DNA or genome codes, we can change our weight and the strength of our lungs and heart. So, if you believe that coronary heart disease may be in your future, eat less and walk more, my friend!

Cardiac Rehab: Chapter 7 – Chicken, Chili and Cornbread

I love receiving freshly cooked meals delivered to our door. It makes being under the weather just a bit easier to bear. And the visits with some of our closest friends during January and February made the food taste just that much better.

Most folks had a few minutes to visit and usually started off by saying, “You look good. How do you feel?”

Remember: It’s hard for me to give a short answer. “I feel good, a bit tired, but happy to be home,” I said. “I find it hard to believe that I actually had a major heart attack,” I explained.

I remember a conversation with Dan and Debbie Gyger. They are some of our longtime friends through our church. Dan is an elder and residential contractor and had recently remodeled our kitchen, dining and living rooms. Debbie is an accomplished nurse and grew up in Brazil as part of a missionary family. They have three daughters and brought us some amazing tortilla soup and salad.

Jenny was not home from school yet, so I sat and talked with Dan and Deb. Being a nurse, Deb had pretty specific questions about where the blockage had been and what the doctors did. She instantly picked up on the seriousness of having a one-hundred percent blocked left anterior descending artery was and how close to death I had been. They were both very serious in their comments and thankfulness to God on my behalf. Dan prayed for Jenny, our family and me before they left.

I coughed through most of the conversation as I was still feeling the effects of my allergic reaction to Benazepril. Even though the cough was the result of a chemical reaction, it was like most every cough that took on a mind of its own whenever the air flowed through my throat. It was uncontrollable. So, the best way to quiet it was to close my mouth and calm myself. Of course, the cough made my visitors uncomfortable as they were thinking that they didn’t want to make things worse for me. Consequently, they didn’t want to linger and make me have to talk to them.

The gifts of food and the visits of friends was another example of how suffering is a catalyst for community. If we are willing to share our weakness and fragility with others, folks are eager to come to our aid. My friends Jean Vanier and Curt Armstrong of L’Arche have pointed this out many times. Namely, we should be more trusting of the human heart. As we trust and allow others to share in our weakness, we bring out the glory and essence of our brothers and sisters who have been made in the image of God. I found this to be true as friends shared their good food and acts of kindness with us in our time of need.

Chapter 6 – Relational Re-Entry: Who knows and who doesn’t?

There were a couple of things that I knew would occur over the next few weeks. One, I’d be greeting good friends about every other day as they delivered meals to us. Some would want to visit and see how I was doing and ask a few questions. Others would want to make a quick stop, drop off food, but wouldn’t have time to visit. As one who has been told he has the “gift of gab” and finds it difficult to give short answers without appropriate context, I could expect to be frustrated by the brief encounters.

Ever leave a suitcase only partially unpacked after a long trip? We do it with our emotions, too.

And the longer visits would be deeply satisfying while helping me to release some of the emotional baggage I was carrying.

Good baggage, but baggage that needed to be unpacked and put in its proper place and perspective. Tears would show my fear, pain, anxiety and joy. Amazing what shedding a few tears can accomplish.

Secondly, I knew that “I had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago or a couple of months ago,” would be a part of my conversation with most everyone for a while. And with those who knew of my surprise heart event I would be explaining symptoms and warning signs that I had experienced before and during the attack.

Again, I felt a combination of anxiety and welcome as I anticipated future encounters. I would learn later that one thing I had not anticipated was a conversation where my fellow traveler would share about someone close to them who didn’t make it to the hospital in time or doctors weren’t able to save them. And, thus, the blocked artery had killed somebody closed to them.

These encounters hit me hard with a combination of sadness and wonder. Sadness was for my friend’s loss and wonder at God’s tender mercy for saving my life. I would ask myself what my life now meant. Was I suppose to make dramatic changes? Had God saved me for some enduring quest? Was he planning to re-direct my path into a new world? Or did it mean, simply, and profoundly, that my time on earth was not done. And the God of Wholeness had more rough edges to shave off before I was ready for heaven.

What does it mean that I am still alive? It is a question that would be my constant companion for months to come.

Chapter 4 – Slow Motion: January 17, 2013

On Thursday, Jenny went back to work as a special education teacher at Tucker Middle School in Tucker, GA, an Atlanta suburb northeast of the city. It was her first day back at school after traveling to Montreal and bringing me back home. She wasn’t looking forward to the attention, but was happy to get it over with on Thursday even though she’d be staying home on Friday to take me to the cardiologist appointment. I wasn’t cleared to drive yet and Jenny wanted to understand more of what had happened and what we could do to prevent another heart attack.

One of our longtime friends and member of our church had already begun scheduling a meal to be prepared and delivered for us every other day. And she – Cindy Terrell – brought the first one the after we had returned from Canada. This would become a tremendous help to us as most folks would bring enough for more than one meal and there was just the two of us. Also, it allowed me to slowly re-connect with many families from our church and neighborhood. Cindy had planned meals for about the next four weeks which coincided with my orders to not work for the 30 days.

As friends would drop off a meal I would replay the events of early January in a linear fashion. Beginning with the question, “Why were you in Montreal?”

And the explanation and Q and A went on for a few minutes until my cough began to interrupt our conversation too severely.

For the first couple of days everything was in slow motion. I had a bit of soreness from the whole experience of the procedures and sleeping in five different beds in a five-day span. Truthfully, I would be in slow motion for a few weeks! And mentally and emotionally I was trying to get my bearings and figure out what all of this meant and how my life was going to change.

Spiritually, I was grateful and I had a growing appreciation for God’s protection and life-preserving love that had given me a thumbs-up as my heart attack had played out before him.

Chapter 3 — In Search of a Cardiologist

I’m not sure how many hours I slept last night, but I was eager to get up and get started in finding a cardiologist. Jenny and I both made calls to Emory Clinic doctors. I called Dr. Donald Davis, my internist and primary care physician, to let him know about my surprise heart attack and to ask him for a recommendation to a cardiologist. His nurse responded with a “glad you’re okay” and no particular recommendation, but a blanket recommendation of any of the Emory cardiologists.

Jenny talked to her cardiologist who said that he could see me next week. I held out for someone to see me this week. So, we contacted the general cardiology department at Emory and were offered an appointment for Friday with Dr. Wissam Jaber at Emory Midtown which used to be Crawford Long Hospital. We took it and continued doing research. My friend Joe Hope had touched base with me and had said that his neighbor was a cardiologist at another hospital and he could ask him for a favor if I wanted. Ultimately, I declined in favor of staying in the Emory system for this initial visit and then we’d decide about ongoing care.

That would turn out to be the right decision for a surprising number of reasons. Dr. Jaber went to med school at American University in Beirut, Lebanon and then had residency at Duke University Medical Center and The Mayo Clinic. He was fairly new to Emory Healthcare and I would come to know – fluent in French. So, at our first appointment on Friday he could read that summary notes that my Dr. Guy Lalonde, my Montreal cardiologist, had written in English as well as all of the notes and write ups from other members of the medical team that were written in French. This was truly evidence of God’s sovereignty in our daily lives and a significant encouragement to me in my desire to begin understanding the sacredness of my journey toward rehab and improvement.

In the midst of a growing realization that “yes” in the largest sense I was “OK”, but that I was forever changed and my body could fail me, the signs of God’s love and care were often like flashing lights on a roadside barricade reminding me that he was still aware of my journey. This was comforting to know as my cough and sleeplessness would persist.

Sacred Journey: Heart and Soul Rehabilitation. Chapter 1 – January 15, 2013

While Jenny drove Jameson back to the airport, I started thinking about being home and the profound gratitude I felt for God, Jenny and Jameson. I was particularly thankful that nothing crazy happened in our return flight from Montreal.

This was the morning of January 15, 2013 as I sat in a wheelchair at Montréal–Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport waiting for our flight to Atlanta.

So, I could report to Dr. Guy Lalonde – the cardiologist who oversaw my care at Sacred Heart Hospital of Montreal after my heart attack on January 9, 2013 – that we had a smooth experience returning to Atlanta and my house and bed. And by bed I meant one of our beds, chairs or couches.

You see, I had two anxieties staring me in the face: 1) Would I be able to sleep and rest? 2) How soon could I get in to see a cardiologist to change my blood pressure medicine that contained benazepril that was causing me to cough? You see, while in the hospital in Montreal I had forgotten that I was allergic to benazepril. I had discovered this a couple of years ago when my internist at the Emory Clinic had prescribed some blood pressure medicine for me and I developed a cough. This was in my file at Emory Healthcare, but not in my brain’s memory file when I was asked “Are you allergic to anything?” by the Sacred Heart nurses and doctors.

It had been several years since I had been examined by a cardiologist, so, one of the first orders of business would be to let my primary care physician, Dr. Donald Davis, know what had happened. I would ask him for a referral to an Emory cardiologist who could see me as soon as possible.

Of course, there was also the lingering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) symptoms that tended to add a layer of urgency to everything I thought or felt.

As I pondered what the rest of the week might look like, I began to realize that I was tired and sleep deprived.

I got up from the dining room table and slowly walked upstairs to our son Justin’s room where I’d likely sleep tonight. Justin lives in Dallas, so his room was available. I pulled the bedspread and sheet back and then went to gather some pillow options for putting together something to simulate a hospital bed, albeit much softer and more comfortable.

I walked back downstairs and took the three pills that were part of my daily regime. At the same time, I was pretty sure that one of these pills was propagating my persistent cough. The dry cough would become a governor to my conversations over the next few weeks and it could’ve been avoided had my memory been sharper a few days earlier. These kinds of “if only” questions can paralyze us if we let them. I’m not above feeling some regret about past mistakes or poor choices, but it would become clear that timing was critical in my cardiologist choice and I may not have reached out for help with such a sense of urgency had I not had this allergic reaction to the benazepril. So, perhaps we will see if my memory lapse doesn’t have a positive result in the days ahead.