As a heart transplant patient, I've faced some pretty crazy and frightening moments. Some were mild, while others were life-threatening. What makes these experiences scarier is that they often happen without warning—no symptoms, no heads-up. That's exactly what happened to me last July, and it was a day I’ll never forget.
My family and I had just moved to a new town, and I was busy exploring the area, trying to get familiar with my new surroundings. I found a local skate park, not far from home, and it quickly became my go-to spot during the summer, especially when the heat was bearable. After a usual session at the park, I got home around 7:30 or 8:00 p.m., took a shower, and relaxed with some Pink Floyd playing in the background. I even dozed off for a while. My dad woke me up, letting me know he was heading out to pick up my mom and that they’d be back shortly.
Not long after my dad left, things took a sharp turn. Out of nowhere, I started feeling extremely light-headed, and my stomach was upset. It felt like my body was warning me I was going to faint. Having fainted before, I knew the signs all too well, and I immediately sat down to avoid collapsing. My younger siblings were downstairs watching TV, and I didn’t want to alarm them, so I kept calm, sitting on my bed, trying to stay conscious while listening to Pink Floyd. I had a plastic bag and some water bottles nearby, trying to ease the nausea.
After what felt like an eternity (but was really about 45 minutes), my parents finally came home. By then, I knew something was seriously wrong, and I told them to call an ambulance. Within five minutes, the paramedics arrived. They were kind and efficient, getting me into the gurney and rushing me to the hospital with my family close behind.
At the hospital, things escalated quickly. The medical staff checked my vitals, and I’ll never forget the nurse’s voice when she said, “Oh my, his heart rate is 25.” Those words echoed in my mind. A heart rate of 25 beats per minute meant my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen, which explained why I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. My blood pressure was also dangerously low, and I felt like I was slipping away. The fear was real—I didn’t know if I’d make it through.
To stabilize me, the doctors had to shock my heart with defibrillator pads to get my heart rate back to normal. Once they got me stable, I was airlifted by helicopter to my transplant team, where I eventually underwent surgery to have a pacemaker implanted. After a week in the ICU, I was discharged and have been on the road to recovery ever since.
That day was a stark reminder of how fragile life can be, especially living with a heart condition. But I’m grateful to have made it through, and every day since then has been a gift. 😊