My unease over the last few weeks about my state of health and lack of running form came to a sudden and totally unexpected conclusion last Tuesday when I landed in the Critical Care Unit of my local hospital with debilitating chest pain. This turned out to be pericarditis - an inflammation of the tissue that covers the outer surfaces of the heart, and which does a pretty darn good job of imitating a heart attack. Although it can be a serious condition, mine was a relatively mild case. None the less, I spent three days hooked up to heart monitors and underwent so many tests with so many cables attached to multitudinous parts of my body that I couldn't help but think of
that scene from The Matrix where Neo awakens and breaks out of his pod... hmm.
It all happened the day before my 43rd birthday too.
The doctors more or less concluded that this was all the end result of the virus I have had for the last several weeks... fairly minor in impact until this rather more violent episode.
And if you're asking yourselves the same question I immediately asked myself, it's OK - the doctors assured me this afternoon that no, running played no part in it ... it was purely bad luck and running or not would have made no difference. Nor will it impact my running in the future once I'm fully recovered. So that was a relief.
Other than the attack itself, being in hospital for three days gave me two lasting impressions. Firstly, the obvious one is that hospitals are full of really sick people. And when you are surrounded by really sick people, you realise just how important it is to put in a bit of an effort into maintaining your health. This was reinforced by the other major impact... even when hooked up to the heart monitors, I could see Black Hill through my window, which is the site of the Black Hill Challenge on October 31st ... the 14km hill climb I mentioned previously. In fact once they moved me to a general ward I had a superlative view of the entire course, and boy, did that ever motivate me to get out of there and back into it. I had the stark choice facing me right there... to my right through the window the glorious Adelaide Hills full of sensational running and vibrant health, and to my left was a room full of slightly older men with heart, liver and prostate problems. And it struck me that running is an amazing privilege and a great gift that both prolongs and improves the quality of our lives.
I have now had all those tests that my GP has been telling me for years to have done regularly. And there's useful information in those figures they give back to you. I now understand the significance of HDL and LDL, the meaning of the two numbers in your blood pressure reading, and I'm beginning to see how they they can help me improve my running, which in turn improves those test results, which naturally improves my life. And I properly understand now why it's important to not just listen to your body, but to actually take the trouble to have the warning signs checked out. I can't kid myself that I'm in my 20s anymore. And while 43 certainly isn't old, it's simply ridiculous not to take your body seriously when it tries to tell you something.
And incidentally, I now have something in common with Bob Dylan... he too had pericarditis. In fact it was that which nearly killed him back in '97. My case was much less severe (though you may not have thought so had you seen me in the intensive care unit!), but it's a nice conversation starter. Well, perhaps ... if you have as black a sense of humour as me that is.
At the very least all you forum-viewers, make sure you know your cholesterol count and blood pressure! And keep your health insurance up to date. There. Mother has spoken.
[pic of me in recovery ... silly hat part of the dehumanising process found in any hospital]
Genuine Mid Life Crisis
