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Date: 9 February 2012
I was very fit. Running 20km a week. I was trim and healthy and shocked to find out I had a heart condition at 37.
It turns out I was also extremely lucky. I was in training for a half marathon, and mid- training session felt a funny sensation in my chest. I noticed my heart rate monitor was showing 196 beats per minute, and I felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack, but eventually the sensation subsided, but left me pretty shaken.
I visited my GP to ask to see a cardiologist. I had no reason to be worried, and was advised not to bother. However, something told me to investigate this further, as I really wanted clearance to continue training for the half-marathon.
Within minutes of conducting the test, the cardiologist diagnosed me with a serious heart condition. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM) is a condition in which part of the heart muscle becomes thick. The thickening makes it harder for blood to leave the heart, forcing the heart to work harder to pump blood. The high heart rate can become uncontrollable, resulting in death.
No more running, no more half-marathon. Oh, and your relatives need to be tested immediately, including your daughters.
The biggest shock came though, when I was admitted to hospital for more tests under general anesthetic. My heart stopped during the procedure, and they had to jump start my heart back into action. Within a week, I had a defibrillator inserted – an ipod-like heart tracker, that scans every heart beat of everyday and hits you with an electrical pulse that shocks the heart if it stops. I hear it’s like being kicked in the chest by a horse.
A week later I was back at work.
The condition is hereditary, which shed light onto the deaths of my grandparents at such a young age. Thanks to research, we now know what this condition is. My brother was diagnosed, as well as his two daughters who have had to give up competition gymnastics. With regular monitoring we should all lead a very normal life.
I’m not going to sit around and feel sorry for myself, I’m so lucky to be alive. Many people living with HCM don’t know they have it, and simply drop dead.
In the four years since, I have had no episodes or activity of any sort recorded on my device. Family always came first, but now it seems even more important to devote all that I do to ensure a secure upbringing for my kids.
Without research, my doctors would not have known how to treat or even diagnose my condition. Without research, I probably wouldn’t be alive, and my daughters fatherless. I owe a lot to research.
