Good News About My Heart Attack

I was stunned beyond belief.

I had just sat down after a decently rigorous flurry of activity following the largest ‘Open Coaching Call’ we’d ever held. (451 Contractors registered; a phenomenal number of eager learners. More in this issue.)

I was going through the typical avalanche of emails following such, over-hearing a buzz of phone conversations, a regular flow of faxes hummed in the background. (Yes, still a significantly efficient form of communication.)

I’d had my ‘normal’ pre-call meal: a light turkey on wheat from Subway, loaded with vegetables.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere.

I got an email from my friend Tom Grandy, of Grandy and Associates, in response to my offer of a ‘breaking bread’ meal together while he was in my state. We’ve done it before, and I always enjoy time with Tom.

The subject line of his reply was, “My triple bypass”, and my heart sank. He went on to say that after returning from Africa (where his daughter is a missionary), Tom was on his treadmill. I mean the real kind, not the figurative one that chains some to a desk of monotony. Then something happened.

The next thing he knew, panicked faces hovered over him as he was rushed to a hospital for emergency surgery. He had 100% blockage in one artery and 90% in another, but he was snatched from death’s door. Now think of this –

Having a Bad Day, Anyone?

The above situation would be considered a ‘bad day’ in most anyone’s estimation, right? I mean, having your heart fondled by a team of strangers with scalpels and jumper cables seems low on the “My Most Awesome Day” contest submissions. Yet, Tom said in his email:

“God is so good to me. This could’ve happened while I was in Africa away from medical help. It could’ve happened on the 28 hour flight home. I am so fortunate that it happened in my own town with people who love me right there to help. That’s the good news about my heart attack.”

Brings tears to my eyes to even write that.

Some sermons are in words, and occasionally vanish on their way to the ceiling. Some sermons are in example, and they stick forever. His faith allowed a low point to be celebrated, recalled fondly and elicit gratitude. Wow.

Apparently, somewhere in the midst of arterial constriction lies the difference between a deeply appreciative spirit and a thinly complaining shell. (Is this the real distinction between good and bad cholesterol? I can’t ever keep ‘em straight anyway.)

And somewhere out there, somebody is complaining that their Latte is too frothy. That their customers are too picky. That their teenagers are too teenager-y. That their wife has a wrinkle, or their husband has a twinkle, and neither have an inkling of how to get back over the bridge of their relationship.

In my dual meaning best: “Get over it.”

Lo, here am I – in my selfishly-consumed best – who just moments before had been wrangling well-intentioned staff to keep up with the numbers of contractors on the call. To make sure ‘x’ was done so ‘y’ would happen and yield ‘z’ for the effort. I complained about mythically-missed opportunities. Oh, woe is me. Boo-bleeping-Hoo.

And Tom – who had enough tubes coming out of him to qualify as an aquarium – was writing thank you notes to God for his heart attack.

Attitude, Meet Adjustment

My first inclination was to write him back and say how much the story of his heart attack lifted my spirits. But that came out more ghoulish than intended. Seems you’d follow up with, “The next time I need a boost, I hope you’ll get a liver transplant!”

Yet, his attitude minimized and re-framed my microscopic problems. As a lasting lesson, I tried this:

Take a moment and imagine your work life and all its so-called “Problems”. Really. Take inventory of your particular pain points: The non-existent marketing program, complain-y customers, your co-worker with the IQ of toenail fungus. All of it.

Now imagine your veins turn into wine corks, and tell your heart to “Take a break for a few minutes and watch this”. Soon it’s you getting the $800 ambulance ride to a really sterile room that beeps a lot. What of those “pain points” will even measure up once you come to?

If they’re still problems after that, get ‘em gone. Adios. And – to be quite honest – keeping those things in your life will likely accelerate your schedule with the ambulance driver anyway.

It’s About Selection

We can choose what to celebrate. Or bemoan. We can choose our reaction. Or let it choose us. If we can alleviate one pain of yours, let us know.

As it turns out, Tom is fine, in mind, body and spirit. Thanks for the inspiration.