At the core of severe heart attack is a person—suffering or dying. Catastrophic pain—the type that makes the floor drop and slam you in the face. I gratefully don’t fall into the high risk category of people whose hearts will stop beating while they’re eating breakfast, lunch or dinner. But I can draw an understanding of what it must be like from another experience.
A heart attack may come from afar; like standing on a railroad track and seeing this inevitable collision about to happen. On the other hand, death comes instantly. You collapse and your heart never wakes up again.
I’m afraid of the incoming train analogy type of heart attack—seeing it coming and unable to step off the railroad tracks. The tightness radiates as a giant claw on the right side of your body; through your right arm where the largest arteries travel away from the heart.
A curtain is pulled aside and you slip into a crushing grip that engulfs your body, your spirit, and though a person’s mind is a powerful and creative thing, it does not comprehend how to deal with this invasion that washes over you—outside and inside—all at once. The world spins. You taste cotton candy and blood like copper.
Pain has ripped a hole in your body; has broken barriers of physical limits. How can a monster spawn from the absence of the life giving force of the heart? It tears flesh and bone as it grows outward from the chest. You cannot expand with the beast, unable to encompass it; stretching as far as your arms will go only to find them too short.
Matured now, the pain is everywhere. This is what I envision (in written words) as the most real, unrelenting, truest pain I can imagine. You are inside the pain—trapped.
Is this pain to you?