It was a Friday night.
Tyler and I had our monthly dinner date at a Mexican restaurant. We finished up that night with something we had not done in months—sεx!
I woke up shortly after falling asleep in Tyler’s arms, with crushing chest pains and heavy breathing. I thought they were just from the Mexican food and the love making. So, I took a couple of tums and sat up for what I thought was heartburn to subside.
But the pain did not go away. My left arm started tingling. I woke Tyler up and told him what I was feeling. It didn’t take Tyler long to respond:
“Baby, I think you’re having a heart attack. We need to go to the emergency room right now”, he said while already putting his pants on.
I broke into a cold sweat a few minutes later and I started to believe Tyler was right. Not wanting to leave our children alone, I told Tyler I would drive myself to the ER. Tyler didn’t like it one bit but he reluctantly agreed.
On the way to the hospital, I couldn’t help but think about the situation I was in. I was only 40 years old and here I was having a heart attack. I kept thinking about how Tyler could be left a widow, all alone to take care of two young children.
That night at the ER, after several hours and tests, the doctors confirmed that I had a mild heart attack—they told me that based on my test results and current condition, I was very fortunate that it was not an even bigger one.
You see, l knew I was heavy and probably a bit overweight but little did I know that the doctors diagnosed me as clinically obese. Even worse, my ‘obesity’ had brought on cardiovascular damage.