One whole year.
One year ago today I was laying in a hospital bed. The night before I had experienced chest pains that were not going away and getting more uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is an understatement....it was starting to hurt. It was beginning to hurt enough to overcome my stubborn denial of symptoms that have been creeping on me for months and tell my wife that I thought I needed to go to the hospital. Once in the emergency room, a routine test of my blood showed a glucose level of over 500. They admitted my ass immediately and spent the next couple of days trying to lower my blood sugar and put me through all kinds of tests to see what shape my heart was in.
They did angioplasty and put a stent in one of my arteries. The doctor told me that most men in my condition and at my age just die. The classic clutching of the chest and being dead before you hit the floor. He said I was lucky. My blood glucose was beginning to come under control but I would have to take insulin to keep it that way. They told me I was lucky I caught it before serious damage had set in.
I didn't feel lucky. I felt like I dodged a bullet. I felt like I was given an undeserved chance to do something to change what I saw as a very nasty, short, and painful future. I lay there in that hospital bed thinking of my father and how a heart attack robbed that man who enjoyed so much of life and killed him off a little bit every month until he was gone.
I saw my future and I didn't like it one bit.
Now....one year later....things are much different. I don't smoke. I don't do junk food. I exercise, every day if I can. I see a doctor every three months. I take blood glucose readings and my medications religiously. I've lost around 25 lbs of fat around my belly. Though I may someday have to again use insulin, for now I manage very well with out injections
It would be cliche to say I was reborn. I knew all this stuff to take care of my body before the heart attack. I had good intentions of starting to live the life I knew I should...someday. I had even made attempts to begin this journey....many attempts....all short lived. It took coming face to face with my own mortality at the age of 56 to shake my complacency.
right in my ass, where I needed it