That pretty much sums up my situation nowadays. According to two doctors now, the likelihood that I had a genuine, for-real heart attack is minimal. There are no real signs or indication of any past trauma to my heart...which is good news. Maybe over the last five years, I've recovered enough to appear completely healthy, or maybe nothing ever happened in the first place.

Now comes the part where I have to ask just what did happen? Sure, the odds of me having a heart attack at the age of twenty-two are almost unheard of, but I know what I felt, and 'twas no indigestion. Of course, this is also the part where I don't get any sort of definite answer. Time has impaired judgement and any sort of measure. All these new doctors can go on is the present. There's medical records and data, but like anything else, that's all open to interpretation. At the time, I was able to discuss my situation with the doctor and I was being monitored constantly. The only thing that remains from that five-year-old equation is me, and frankly, time has impaired my judgement and recollection as well. Maybe with a different set of doctors, in a different hospital, under different circumstances, I might not have been diagnosed with such a serious ailment, but we'll never know.

Perhaps it's my fault for misjudging my own condition and acting too hastily, but I had to seek help. The pain was just overwhelming, and unlike anything I had ever felt before. I had no explanation for it. My only solution was to find someone who might. My experience with heart attacks was nil, so that was my first thought, and perhaps the doctor at the time picked up on that. Maybe that carried through to his diagnosis and treatment. I just don't know.

After hearing the doctor's explanation that he found no signs of damage or blockage in my heart, I was nothing less than bewildered.

How could this be?

I heard what he said and at the time, it sounded like wonderful news. News that I'd been waiting to hear for over five years. But it still didn't make sense. If I didn't have a heart attack all those years ago, then what did happen to me? Why was I admitted to two hospitals and prescribed medication which I would have to take for the rest of my life? How can all of this just turn around?

For some reason, not only was I completely puzzled, but I also felt betrayed. How could the truth that I'd known for the last five years be false?

Of course, I thought of all of these things after I hung up the phone. For some reason, not only was I completely puzzled, but I also felt betrayed. How could the truth that I'd known for the last five years be false? You know, at the time, I couldn't come up with any better an explanation for what happened to me, so I took the words of the doctors. They are professionals, we put our trust in them to draw the right conclusions and make the right decisions. Once I realized that, I never really doubted what they told me. It became important for me to hold on to what had happened to me, and turn it into something useful.

For a while, there was the depression, and it was a tough road to walk. Then came the moment when I discovered that I had to make the most of things, because they could be gone in an instant. That led me to a whole new perspective on life. A more take-charge, get-out-there-and-do-something attitude started to grow within me. And look at what it led to...my beautiful wife and my precious son. Not to mention a whole slew of other small accomplishments.

That whole ordeal really changed my life.

And now? It was bullshit? Or is the new doctor that examined me off his rocker somehow? There has to be an explanation, it just can't be that simple. I know I didn't imagine it all. Something went wrong, and someone's giving me false information. I love the idea of second opinions, but damnit if I ain't considering getting a third.

It's odd enough to make me angry, and drastic enough to make me weep. I thought I had a new reason for living, a second chance at life, and all it ever was was someone's mistake? That just makes my stomach turn...

The morning was a typical one, considering that I'm currently working on borrowed time and have no idea of what could be next. But I had just finished placing an order for my prescription refill when I received a call.

It was my father. I had just spoken to him yesterday about his fiance, who would be undergoing a cardiac catheterization. This was something I'd had my own experience with, and I know it's no picnic, so of course I was concerned about how she would come out of it. But when I picked up the phone, I could already tell by his voice that something was up.

What he said next took the wind right out of me. He told me about how they'd spoken to the doctor, and after seeing the results of the catheterization, the doctor recommended no less than immediate open-heart surgery. To be more precise, because of the severe blockage of two main arteries, they suggested a double-bypass operation. Now, you try hearing that and see how easy it is to remain standing.

So I just kind of grabbed my things and rushed off to the hospital. I could tell my dad was getting choked up, and it wouldn't help that he was there all by himself. It's hard enough to have to hear that kind of news, but to having to sit there by yourself waiting for an outcome...it must be maddening.

It wouldn't be for another three hours before the doctor would emerge from the operating room and tell us the news. When he said the words "she did great", man, that was like the sweetest sounding music we'd ever heard. Not only did she make it through the procedure, but she did it with flying colors. Apparently, one thing that this type of surgery calls for is to actually stop the heart, depending on the patient's health and age, and luckily for her, the doctors didn't need to do that. And because of that, the recovery period should be shorter than normal. What a relief.

Now, twenty four hours later, things have started looking even better. After being moved out of the ICU and into a regular room, we were told by the doctor that she could expect to go home as soon as Friday. Of course, she wouldn't be able to do much and would have to make some changes to her daily routine. Nevertheless, when you're going home, it can only mean good things.

Not dramatic enough? Well, here's the kicker. Her and my dad were to be married this Saturday, only three days from now. While the scheduled ceremony and celebration is definitely postponed, we're hoping they can still be married in the hospital. Now would that be special or what?

There just might be a happy ending to all of this yet.

**UPDATE: Yes, there was a happy ending. My dad and his fiance were married, at the hospital, with friends and family and one wonderful doctor present for the ceremony. They're back home now, six days gone by, and enjoying a much-needed, much-welcomed vacation.**

It's been four years to the day since my heart attack, and even though it doesn't seem like that much time has passed, a lot of things have happened. Things have happened that I probably never expected or even imagined. Just nine months earlier I had been at the hospital as my baby brother (who's now going on five years) was born. A few months before that I had finished my schooling at the Institute of Houston. After working my way through school full-time, I had now been at my present job for nearly one year, working long and hard at beginning a full-blown career.

It might have seemed obvious, but I was completely taken by surprise when things started to catch up with me. The three previous years with little or no exercise, bad diet habits, inconsistent and inadequate rest, full-time school and a stretch of working two jobs had taken a toll on me, and my body simply said, "¡NO MAS!" I was now a near-victim of one of the nation's top killers.

Afterwards, I would face months of depression and frustration as I dealt with the waves of helplessness and feeling less than I was before. I felt damaged. It may be clinically true, but when the doctor uttered those words, I saw so much slipping away. I found myself now under the thumb of my daily medication, resisting the tendencies to do anything stressful, and probably for the first time in my adult life, without direction. That whole heart attack episode was a magnet next to the mental compass I used for direction in life. I doubted myself, and briefly considered just quitting my job and starting from scratch. Of course, once I realized just how hard that would be, I quickly regained my senses.

You know, I forgot to mention something a while back.

On March 21st, I arrived at a grand total of three years since my heart attack (and overall turning point in my life). I make it a point to take time every year around this time and observe this somewhat haunting anniversary date, mainly to ponder where I've been and where I'm going, but I failed to mention it here. I had full intention to do so, but I've been so busy, I had to settle for a placeholder.

I can truly say that alot's happened in that time. I've since discovered a new love, marriage, a new home, a new ride, pets(!), and many, many things about myself that I either failed to recognize or flat out avoided. And it's only been three years.

So there. Now you know.