Post Heart Attack Journal:
I haven’t been on my blog in quite awhile. I was simply cruising through life, average. Barely hanging in there. Staying the same because I was to cowardly to really change. I was just going through the motions.
I needed something. I needed a spark to wake me the fuck up. Lonely, frustrated, stressed, angry, sad, you name it, I felt it. Two months of a relationship that made me feel less than had just ended. What now? I thought that was a broken heart. In my life then, that WAS a broken heart. I had no idea what the future held. Looking back, this was below the least of my concerns. For many reasons. Not the least of which, the girl sucked the life out of me. I was far better off.
My mom was an hour away, I never got to see her. I used to see her daily, now I was lucky to see her monthly. My mother has always helped me through the tough times and she was essentially gone.
My job was a bucket of stress, overflowing throughout my body, daily. Someone I thought was a friend, more so than a coworker, became my boss a few years ago and has completely shit all over our friendship while making work miserable for not just me, everyone. A narcissist of the highest order. The opposite of a leader. You name a stereotypical characteristic of a leader and he dies the opposite. While he does the opposite, I do his job. I was working EVERY day. Literally, every single day. Even that, never enough. I
I was promised positions over and over and over. To me, it was business as usual. I go to work and I do my job, every single day. Work was changing in many ways. I was being used as a pawn. All I felt, along with many others, was anger and stress. It was terrible. Again, I needed SOMETHING. I’m not sure what, but something.
All this being said, I was not completely miserable. I wasn’t clinically depressed. Reason being, I still had my health. I had the gym every morning. My safe place. The one thing that got me out of my own head. I would push through push ups, lifting, cardio and sauna. The gym kept me sharp and strong. It allowed me to overcome demons and assholes in my path. It was everything to me at the time. It will always be my baseline of contentment.
Then it happened. One day, 3:30 pm on Saturday may 11th, out of nowhere, I got a weird chest pain. Obviously, I chalked it up as stress. After all, I had plenty of stress flowing through my body on a daily and nightly basis. It had to be stress. It just made sense. It lasted about a half hour, before it subsided for the night.
The next day I went to the gym. I felt fine, battled through 200 pushups and a light lift and went to work. Barely a thought was had about the pains. However, that night, as I was about to fall asleep, I had a few more pains. Damn stress. I took some deep breaths, thought It was a bit weird and I fell asleep. Monday, I woke up early, per usual, and went to the gym again. Had a great workout without issue and got on with my work day. Tuesday is when the pain would start again. On and off throughout the day, I’d get slight pains. Still, I played volleyball with the kids and staff I work with and, once again, chalked it up as stress.
Wednesday was the turning point, as far as the consistency and possible seriousness of this issue. After just two sets of pushups at the gym my chest began hurting a fair amount. More than usual. I stopped working out, did a long sauna and went to work, yet again. Midway through work, I told my boss, and alleged long time “friend”, I had to leave the gym early because of chest pains. He shrugged it off, mostly because he doesn’t give a fuck about anybody but himself. A true narcissist. It wasn’t in the slightest bit surprising, given the past 4 years of everything being about him.
Now it is Thursday. My chest is consistently hurting. I’ve told everyone I work with, thinking it was just stress. A few obviously said to get it checked out, but most agreed with me. I was very persuasive, I’m certainly not blaming anyone, so far. I
’m scheduled 7-7 that day and I got someone to work for me as my chest was getting worse and worse, though still not debilitating. Then, a staff couldn’t come in. It was then when my boss told me as he looked at me with a pained expression, as to say “you are staying” and walked out 5 minutes later. I told him “my chest is killing man”. Off he went anyway. Like god himself. My life meaningless. It was later that I heard that he pointed at the schedule and said “Mike can suck it up”. This is a person who works 25 hrs a week on a 40 hour a week salary. I work about 60-70 hours a week.
It had just so happened, I got to meet our new program director right after this moment. So I got to meet this poor gentlemen at the height of frustration, stress, and now, chest pains. He was quite surprised to hear I was made to stay or, at best, completely ignored. He was also surprised I had worked about 68 out of 70 days. I was to be the new residential director when my “friend” and boss at the time left, which was now in 3 months. That’s a whole different story for another day. I let the new director, Dickie, know 3 separate times I was having chest pains, it was not a plea to leave, as he wasn’t even fully in charge yet. It was more a plea for him to see what this job has become. Not just for me, for everyone. Most of all, it actually hurt!!
We were all peasants with two dictators. Our lives seemingly meaningless. Sounds dramatic, but it’s absolutely true. It just is what it is now and was what it was then. I will always struggle with how you can discard other’s lives, especially as a leader with power. It’s just not how my mind operates. I’m 100% secure with the fact that I’d never ask anyone to do something I wouldn’t do. It’s just not in my DNA. Period.
Anyway……I ended up leaving around 6 on Thursday and took the day off from the gym Friday. Work was more of the same, but I got through it. Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.
Saturday, I woke up feeling fine. Did my morning shopping for the unit that I do every weekend and went in to work. Everything was smooth until just after lunch time. I started getting minimal chest pain. This began to increase to a pain I hadn’t felt before. A sharper pain. I mentioned to a younger supervisor that my chest was hurting more than the usual. He immediately said “leave” and I’ll supervise your shift. Initially, I refused and figured I would just go home and rest. A few minutes later, with my pain increasing, I decided to take him up on it and go to urgent care.
At urgent care I initially started feeling better. Maybe it was stress? They took an EKG and although it was a little abnormal, it seemed ok from their point of view. Mind you, EKG’s aren’t used for chest pains normally. Nor are walk-ins. So the doctor left the room and I was thinking I’ll make it home to watch UFC and all will be ok, for now.
Then, it all fell apart. I was alone in the doctor’s office, when real pain struck. Right in the middle of my chest was a cutting pain. I couldn’t shake it. Paving around, splashing water in my face, deep breaths, nothing worked. Finally, after about 10 minutes, I opened the door and calmly said “my chest is really hurting”. They did another EKG and called the ambulance. The crazy part is…. I STILL thought it was just too much stress from work. STILL!
While I’m the ambulance, all I could think was to just stay calm, it’s going to be ok. I looked up at my blood pressure and saw 190 over something and asked “is that just anxiety?” The nice paramedic just said “it’s definitely possible.” I continued to just say to myself “it’s going to be ok.” My chest pain was moderate and I was about to be in the emergency room, being taken care of. Surely, they will give me some pain med and I’ll better, somehow.
When we arrived at Lowell General, I just wanted to relax and watch UFC on my phone. However, my chest started hurting more and more. It was the most pain I had felt yet. It was consistent and there was no position I could sit in or way I could maneuver to slow it down. The pain was nearing a 10. Plus, my phone was dying! With the 4% I had left, I watched the end of the first fight. I will always remember the pain I felt as I watched. Here I was having a heart attack while watching Emily Ducote lose to Vanessa Demopolous.
My mom arrived about an hour in. This was right about the same time they gave me some nitro to sooth the pain. It barely worked at first, then they gave me another. The second dose lowered my pain from about an 8 to a 5. It was bearable, yet still very uncomfortable. At this time, I still didn’t know what was wrong and had not ruled out, you guessed it, stress. I would never think it was stress if I wasn’t under so much at work. Stress would have been ruled out the first bout with chest pains, had it not been so stressful at work. All due to two people, to whom the world seemingly revolves around. If you weren’t one of these two, you didn’t matter. Period.
The doctor came in and told me, under no uncertain terms, I had a big problem with my heart. He said I would live and I was lucky I got to the ER, but I would need a procedure to clear up a blockage. It was at this moment, I knew. Life would never, ever be the same again.
When he left the room, I asked my mom if I had a heart attack and she said she didn’t think so. I remember saying “why can’t anything exciting ever happen, this sounds boring.” Mentally, I feel like I’m pretty damn strong. Resilience is definitely one of my strongest character traits. Although I fucked up a lot in my life, I never gave up. Recently, the last few years or more, I have been putting myself in uncomfortable positions and turning that into my comfort zone. I knew I could overcome anything that was about to happen. I just didn’t know what was about to happen?
The procedure was explained to me a few more times and I was told it wouldn’t be done until Monday. So here I was in the midst of a heart attack, with a new phone charger, watching UFC in the emergency room of Lowell General. My life changed forever. Still, I just watched the fights on my phone and tried to stay strong. At this point, the damage was done. I really focused on not stressing out over it and causing more problems. The pain never went away in the ER. I waited about 4 more hours before I finally got a room. Starving and dehydrated, I had a splitting headache to complement my chest pains.
When I entered by new room for the weekend, a very nice nurse greeted me. I felt comfortable, although in pain and unsure of what was next. She asked if I needed anything. I told her I was good, but I was STARVING. I got dinner in the ER, a joke of a piece of fish. Literally, the smallest piece I’ve ever seen in my life. I wonder how much that cost my insurance. Anyway, the nurse made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and got me a big thing of water. This relieved my headache for a few minutes, but it came back very shortly thereafter.
Here I was, about 10 pm, strapped up to about five different needles in my arms, cords everywhere. I could barely move. I had a splitting headache, a massive heartache and an uncertain future, to say the least.
I didn’t sleep one wink the first night. It was so uncomfortable. The overnight nurse would tell me to rest only to potentially wake me up, had I been sleeping, about every half hour to check something. I was to find out later that I was in some serious danger at the time, as big worded medical things were rising in my heart and I wasn’t all that stable. She told me this the next day, when my numbers were in far better shape. I guess this was causing my chest pain that had remained, even though I was hooked up to constant nitro. The first night was tough, a battle of what hurt more, my head or my chest. Every movement set off the thing that kept everything stuck into my body. It was no fun at all. No relaxation at all.
The next day, Sunday, I felt awful to start the day. My dad came to visit and I used door dash for the first time in my life. I ordered Life Alive, a few wraps and a smoothie with all kinds of nutrients in it. This, along with lots of water, revived me for the day, night and rest of the stay, headache wise. I actually slept decent that night and felt much better overall.
The nurse told me the second night that she was very scared the first night because some bad stuff, enzymes or something, kept rising and rising. Well, they were down now and she seemed very happy with the progress. My chest was no longer hurting, so whatever it was definitely was helpful.
By the 3rd day, Monday, I was ready to have my surgery, catheter, it is called. Placing a stent in chest. This was an easy procedure. I couldn’t explain how the did it for any amount of money though. The Dr. Said I had a few more plaque buildups and it certainly looked like it was a lot of genetics. As he was finishing up, he pulled the cord thingy he was using out and I developed a bleed on my wrist artery, a hematoma. This would ruin the rest of my day.
They quickly wrapped the bleed and then put a wrist watch type thing on my wrist, with the pressure of handcuffs from a pissed off cop. The feeling in my hand soon subsided. It absolutely killed!! For three and a half hours!!! Constant pins and needles battled with just pure pain on and off. It was terrible. Finally, after saying 30 minutes, 6 times, they took it off. Then began the waiting game, to be discharged, to go home. Another few hours.
When I finally got the okay to go home, I went to my dad’s house. I felt okay, but I stayed there for a few nights just to be safe. After this, it was back home to a whole new life. In what ways? I still wasn’t totally sure. I felt strong, stronger than before the heart attack physically. Mentally, I was coming along. It was a lot to take in. It still is a lot to take in. It may always be a lot to take in. Yes, I’m lucky to be alive. However, I, like I’m sure so many others, often think WHY ME? I’m young, in shape and don’t really eat process foods etc. It was just too late, the damage was done.
6-15-24
I’m back, 24 days later. That normal workout regime and all that feeling okay now and acceptance was, still is, gone. 24 days ago I started withdrawing from adderall. A prescription stimulant I took for 26 years for adhd. As most know, Adderall also curves appetite a bit and can certainly keep you awake. Now I’m here 15 lbs heavier, struggling to wake up in the am, eating every oatmeal and vegetable in sight.
Upon returning home I wasn’t quite at full gym level fitness but I was going for long walks on the treadmill.and outside. By mid week, about 10 days after surgery, I was back doing push-ups, light lifting and approximately 5 miles a day. I was coming to terms with what had happened, my diet, my limitations and just life in general as a heart attack survivor. Then I went for my follow up appointment to get cleared from work. Unfortunately, It wasn’t going to be so easy after all.
At this appointment, my new found confidence and spirit was quickly broken. My follow up cardiologist, Dr. Wong immediately told me my heart hadn’t improved at all since the surgery and I still had a 30% and 50% blockage in two of my arteries. What. The. Fuck. I truly felt like I got a stent. It was fairly fixed and I’m moving on with my life in a much healthier way. I guess that was too optimistic of an approach to this appointment. She said it was mostly genetic and had been forming for years and years. She suggested no more drinking and no more smoking. Obviously. This also hit hard, as I rarely drink, but when I do I smoke. Drinking is my 3-4-5 times a year thing where I see old friends. I just felt like I was being stripped of a lot of shit in a very short period of time.
Upon leaving the follow up, I was pretty down, frustrated and just confused. I was well aware of what most would say. “Just dk what they told you! You can do it, you are already healthy!” Blah blah. Some of that is true, but NOONE I know can do what was being asked of me. At least in my head. I felt like there was now NO releases of any type of superficial happiness, whether it be unhealthy or not. No more eating anything but fish and veggies etc. No more alcohol, nicotine or missing the gym The only additions to my life, were worries. What. The. Fuck.
After speaking to several people and venting my frustration, I got back into my groove. I was going to the gym, eating great, losing weight and feeling great. In about 5 days I would be back to work and on my way to being in the greatest shape of my life. This is, has been and always will be important to me. Why? I don’t even know. It has just become what makes me feel good, for better or worse. I was walking, jogging a bit, back to doing push-ups and pretty much ready for a normal workout regime. But… it’s never that easy, especially as of late.
I never wanted to be a victim. I never consider myself a victim. But, again, what the fuck!!. I’m really starting to lose my edge. I want to just say to myself “Stop being a bitch.” Or something along those lines, however, I feel like one. I’m tired. I am gaining weight fast. I’m always afraid of the future and now I’m losing the present. It’s not the best of times. I hate the constant thought of ending my life. THOUGHT… I would NEVER do something like that to my family and friends. I’ll 100% fight until the end, that’s a promise. It just sucks to even think for a second not being here would be more peaceful.
7-9-24
Just a quick recap….I’m moving forward, still struggling at times. I’m back at the gym now, I still have my fitness and my routine. The one hobby I love. The one thing that makes me feel good. Then… bam! I get a call from my cardiologist saying I can no longer take Adderall. For anyone who has never taken it, I’m sure it sounds easy. However, I’ve been taking it with a script for 26 years. I immediately knew this was going to be the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest.
I was slated to go back to work after 2 weeks off when I entered my withdrawal phase. I thought I could do it. I was wrong. Dead wrong. It was physically tough, starving and tired for days. However, mentally is what nearly broke me. Weight was going back on. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel like I did. 26 years is a long time. I’m writing this part 45 days without Adderall, still not sure I will ever feel the same. Still tired and a bit lethargic. Having massive issues getting out of bed at 4 am. At times I don’t, which isn’t me. It sucks. It has sucked the whole 45 days. Depression creeps in. Loneliness creeps in. All kinds of insecurities creep in.
My life was based on fitness, a strong, strict diet, with bouts of partying, letting loose with my friends. Then repeat. All of these entities that made me happy and gave me that dopamine rush were gone Then on top of that, I have to lose energy.
There is a part of me that is unbreakable. I have learned that over the years. I have been trying to find it. I’m cloudy. The lack of dopamine from no Adderall is REAL it’s brutal. The realization of everything is still sinking in. Even with that being said, I don’t even know what the fucking realization is. I don’t know what I want because I’m still feeling tired and moderately depressed.
7-10
Ok, now I’ve realized what I want. I want my baseline back. When I’m 200 lbs and in good shape, the rest of life seems to come together for me. I’m confident, I feel good, I’m motivated. it used to be just good, ole fashion, discipline that got me there. Now, I feel there is much more to it. I definitely feel like I’m swimming upstream. Between being out of shape, injuries, the heart attack and ESPECIALLY, the medication withdrawal, I’m sort of at a loss as to what I should be eating and how to tackle my workout routine. At this point, it’s just try my best and stay around 220-225. I need more clarity.
There are a few ways to go about this process.
1. Say “fuck it” and eat all lean meat, veggies, cheese and hot sauce. This would fill me up easier, give me massive protein and really help me at gym. However, this can higher my cholesterol. I was told I HAVE to lower my cholesterol. The issue is, I don’t know how much it will higher it, if at all.
I could just make fish my main source of protein. Then there is the mercury issue. Blah blah. I could eat grilled chicken or fish in huge salads? I don’t know. It sucks because my appetite is enormous and it’s growing by eating so many carbs. They make me so damn hungry. Meat satiates me much better but that is not conducive to heart attacks.
2. I could suck it up and eat how I am now. I’m eating half fish, half veggies, no red meat, lots of carbs stuff. Problem is, All I do is shit when I eat just veggies for a few days. I feel so bloated, although it tastes great. Also, much more sugar is taken in. It’s harder to stay totally clean. I’m not a rabbit.
Neither of these diet/lifestyles will work if I can’t get up, feel stronger, and get my ass to the gym and in a routine every day. I’m going to figure it out. Then, I’m going to lose 25 lbs quick!
7-13
I’m still tired. I’m still saying I’m going to do this and that. I’m still doing nothing. It’s just not like me. I do think I figured out a diet, At least a rough draft.
A crockpot and skillet is coming and at this point I’m telling myself I want to learn how to cook. I will eat lean meat, “dry” chicken, fish, ground turkey, you get the picture. I’m going to try to eat two meals, one a small salad at 12 and one at 4ish that I cook. No more, non fruit, snacks. No more bullshit. No more pity party.
It’s been a tough grind getting off Adderall. I’m proud I did that cold turkey, only putting on 10 lbs, but it’s time to fucking work. I’ve got to get out of my own head and get a routine going. Even if it’s tough at first.
7-16
I’m actually at the gym. Huge win. I worked 6 sets of chest, 2 sets of pushups, walked a little over a mile in 15 minutes and now I’m sauna. The important part is I’m here and I feel pretty good. Everything works together. If I’m here every day, my diet will be better. I just need to figure out routines in both dieting and exercising. I feel like I’m close, yet so far. It’s still tough on both without Adderall, even after 47 days. Wtf.
7-17
Meal prepping starts today. I will only eat what I make. This could be painful. My appetite is just enormous right now. However, it’s time. It’s time to start this blog. At 228 lbs, I’m ready to drop the completely legitimate excuses and move forward. The next posts from here on out will be my progress, or lack thereof. I feel like I’m ready. I’ve been to the gym 2 days in a row. I’m ready to fucking inspire. To tell a story of perseverance, like no other I’ve ever told. If I’m going out, I’m going out with a legacy of mental toughness and pride. Let’s fucking go!!
My long game goal is to get to 199 by my birthday, October 2nd. There will be so much living and learning going into this goal. It’s no longer eat meat once a day, take Adderall and go to gym. It’s so much more tha. That. It’s a fight. A fight to not only survive, to prosper.
Quiet Desperation 