“It’s a 10 out of 10 pain!”

I have no memory of February 4, 2020, until my recollection resumes on February 10. The narrative I’m about to share is pieced together from details gathered over weeks, months, and even years after that pivotal night. To this day, I continue to uncover new elements that help me understand my experience better.

A Brief Background

Before I dive into my cardiac episode, it is essential to consider the events leading up to that significant night. Throughout my adulthood, I faced clinical depression and various anxiety disorders, some resulting in panic attacks. Many of you might relate to experiencing panic attacks, particularly the more severe ones that lead to fears of heart attacks.

In the days leading to the cardiac incident, I had multiple episodes throughout my teens, twenties, and thirties that prompted me to call 9-1-1 due to alarming chest symptoms. The response I typically received was, “It’s just anxiety,” which I understood since I was young, fairly active, and fit, with no history of high blood pressure or cholesterol issues. I had, however, struggled with an accelerated heart rhythm since my youth.

Fearing the Worst in 2019

In 2019, my anxiety escalated due to persistent chest symptoms, even after undergoing reassuring tests like EKGs and blood work. This cycle of fear led to anxiety attacks that exacerbated my symptoms. Despite my attempts to stay active, physical exertion only aggravated the chest pain, straining my relationship with my wife, who grew frustrated with my constant complaints, despite doctors' reassurances.

By summer 2019, my doctor suggested a stress echocardiogram due to worsening symptoms. Although I handled the test well, I harbored doubts about its ability to capture the full extent of my discomfort. Despite negative results, my chest pain persisted, deepening my anxiety, and I faced being labeled a hypochondriac by a medical professional.

By early 2020, overwhelmed by anxiety, I stopped being active to avoid triggering any chest pain. During a family outing to an NHL game in January 2020, I experienced significant chest discomfort and shortness of breath, foreshadowing the cardiac event that would soon follow.

When Fear Becomes Reality

I’ve shared my experience with numerous individuals over the past four years, but this is the first time I’m detailing my cardiac event in writing for a wider audience. As I recount this, I feel the pressure to adequately convey the gravity of that night.

Once again, I have no recollection of the events that unfolded. On February 4, 2020, just after 11:00 p.m., my wife Monica and I had gone to bed. Shortly after, I awoke her, exclaiming, “Monica, I have chest pain.”

Half-asleep, she responded, “You ate wings; it’s gas. You’re fine. Go back to bed!” Earlier that night, I had dinner with a friend, Kevin.

“Just Do Your Breathing Techniques”

After she fell back asleep, I woke her again, still complaining of chest discomfort. Assuming it was another panic attack, she suggested I use some of the breathing techniques I had learned. However, things escalated. “Monica, the pain is a 10 out of 10!” At that moment, she recognized the severity, recalling a past story when I made a similar 9-1-1 call in my twenties.

We jumped out of bed, and she informed her mother, who was living with us, that she was taking me to the hospital.

“I Feel Better”

As we backed out of the driveway, I mentioned feeling nauseous and stepped out of the car to vomit. It was brief, and afterward, I claimed to feel better. We reconsidered going to the hospital; Monica admitted she thought I was merely unwell from overeating.

And Then It Happened

Standing on the snow-patched lawn, I felt another wave of nausea wash over me. Without warning, my legs collapsed, and I fell to the ground, lifeless. Monica called 9-1-1 and initiated CPR, a skill she had refreshed just weeks earlier. She persevered, maintaining compressions for several minutes while keeping the dispatcher informed.

False Hope

Monica later recounted that she believed I was breathing again, only for the dispatcher to clarify, “No, that’s just your air coming back up,” a chilling reminder of the gravity of the situation. Despite her fatigue, Monica continued with CPR, every moment feeling like an eternity.

Emergency responders arrived, including three paramedics who took control of the situation. I don’t recall much of the medical details, but they had to inject a concentrated medication into my leg and use a defibrillator multiple times.

* Actual Image Of My EKG/ECG During Cardiac Arrest *

Though I was not stable, the paramedics rushed me to the ambulance, with Monica following closely behind. Upon my arrival at the hospital, she was allowed to follow as they transported me to the catheterization lab.

No Time To Spare for Medical Staff

The cardiologist and the medical team were in for a challenging night. I faced multiple serious complications; someone later explained, “Any one of them could have killed you, and combined, nobody survives that.” I had a significant seizure after being placed on the operating table, leading to massive internal bleeding due to a broken needle.

‘Widowmaker’

While performing an emergency angiogram, the doctor successfully inserted three stents, one for a 70% blockage and two in my left anterior descending artery, which was completely blocked. This artery, nicknamed the ‘widowmaker,’ is critical, supplying almost half of the blood to the heart muscle.

Despite these interventions, my heart was too weak to beat independently, necessitating the use of a balloon pump to assist. Additionally, I was placed in a coma to protect my brain.

“Where is your family?”

At some point, an ER nurse asked Monica about my family. When she hesitated to call them in the middle of the night, the nurse insisted, “You need to call them now!” Later, Monica revealed her shock at the nurse’s stark warning: “I don’t think you understand; he’s probably not going to make it.”

“Exhausting Times”

During my initial nights in a coma, Monica struggled to leave my side, forcing herself to go home for rest. Medical staff employed chillers to keep me cool, concerned about my brain function due to prolonged oxygen deprivation.

After a few days, they decided to lower my fentanyl dosage to check for responses as I began to regain consciousness. Miraculously, my body temperature remained stable.

From Panic to Progress

Around the fourth day, it seemed that the medical staff could see Monica’s distress. They reduced the fentanyl again, and thankfully, my temperature didn’t rise. I began moving and eventually speaking approximately five days after my coma.

“I watched your brain boot back up!”

One of my close friends, Raz, traveled from New York to visit me. He later described witnessing my gradual recovery and how I started reclaiming my identity as Mike Corazza.

Awake, but Not Really?!?!

I woke up around the sixth day, but my memory didn’t return until the seventh. During this peculiar phase, a neurologist assessed my cognitive function, and surprisingly, I excelled. Despite my previous insecurities about my intellect, I found it fascinating and confusing that I had suddenly performed so well.

Yet, I faced unexpected memory loss, humorously referred to as ‘Groundhog Day’ by my family, but clinically identified as Transient Global Amnesia (TGA). As the forgetfulness persisted, Monica resorted to creative reminders, voicing her concerns to the medical team.

“To be honest, Mrs. Corazza…”

The doctor admitted that they had never encountered a patient who survived multiple cardiac events like mine. Monica’s anxiety increased upon hearing their uncertainty about my recovery.

It’s Crazy to Think I Essentially Lost a Week!

I remind you that I have no memory of the events leading up to that moment. The last thing I recall was having breakfast with Monica and some coworkers on February 4 and sending work emails later that day.

Lucky Day #7. February 10, 2020.

I found myself in an unfamiliar room, with a nurse standing over me. As I regained my clarity, she told me, “You’re in a hospital, Michael, and you survived a cardiac arrest.”

Adjusting to a New Routine

Adapting to my new reality was challenging. Initially, I struggled to recognize familiar faces among the medical staff. Although I found comfort in hearing about the support from family and friends, I felt guilty for not remembering them.

The transition involved numerous adjustments, notably an increase in medication. I was prescribed over 15 pills daily, shifting from just a few for anxiety and depression to a strict diet that limited sodium, saturated fats, and sugars.

The Realization That I Lost a Week

Over four years have passed since that momentous experience. Fortunately, as my memory stabilized, my overall perspective brightened, contrasting sharply with the dire circumstances of just days before.

More Time Needed for Recovery

As I improved, I was moved from the ICU to a less critical cardiac floor. After nearly 14 days in the hospital, I was discharged, just weeks before the global Covid-19 pandemic lockdown began in March 2020.

My Safety Net Was Removed

When I was finally allowed to return home, I was overwhelmed by a mix of sadness and anxiety. Rather than feeling joyful, I found myself apprehensive about no longer being under medical supervision.

The Months That Followed

Life after the event presented numerous challenges, with my physical and mental health deteriorating more than I anticipated. I was diagnosed with PTSD less than a year post-event.

Closing Comments

Above all, advocate for your health! If you feel dissatisfied with a diagnosis, don’t hesitate to seek a second opinion. Even if tests appear normal, but you still experience concerning symptoms, speak up! Looking back, I regret not voicing my ongoing chest pain after the stress echocardiogram in late 2019.

So Many People to Thank

I must express immense gratitude to everyone involved in saving my life—from the paramedics to the ER staff, nurses, and doctors in the cardiac unit, as well as my mental health professionals, family, and friends.

ACTUAL PHOTO When I Met the Paramedics Three Years Later!

I owe a heartfelt thank you to our dear friend Sue, a dedicated nurse who truly looks out for us. I am forever grateful for her kindness.

Lastly, I express my deepest appreciation to my wife, Monica, not only for her quick actions that night but also for her unwavering support throughout our journey together.

We often ponder the existence of guardian angels, and I have learned that mine is my wife, Monica.

“Monica, I love you.”

Until next time!