This testimony gives voice to Robert, a teacher, who candidly shares his experience of a heart attack.
Without medical jargon, it sheds light on what medical tests do not always capture: fear, questions, hypervigilance, and the slow process of rebuilding that follows such an event. A deeply human account that complements the medical perspective and resonates with all those who are living — or have lived — through a similar journey.
Note to the reader
This testimony deliberately uses the term “heart attack”, as it is lived and understood by patients.
Detailed medical explanations, including the terms STEMI and NSTEMI, are presented in the associated medical section.
Related reading: STEMI — the medical perspective
“The Day It Became Etched in My Memory”
The day you have a heart attack, something becomes etched in your memory.
It’s not just the pain, the urgency, or even the medical procedures that unfold too quickly.
It’s that precise moment when time seems to slow down, when a thought quietly but heavily takes hold: what if everything stopped here?
You remember the place, the moment, sometimes even an insignificant detail.
Some people experience warning signs, as if the body were sending signals that are not always easy to understand. I had none.
That evening, I had a disagreement with my daughter.
It is sometimes difficult to remain calm with those we love more than ourselves, especially when we watch them struggle with ongoing substance-related problems.
And then, that chest pain.
Instead of fading, it seemed determined to stay… to settle in, to take hold.
At first, you hesitate.
You doubt.
You wonder if you’re overreacting.
But the mind insists.
Suddenly, nothing feels trivial anymore.
“Who I Was, Before”
My name is Robert. I am a teacher.
At 53, I considered myself to be in good health.
I was active, exercised regularly, and nothing suggested what was about to happen.
Like many others, I was an occasional smoker.
Not a heavy smoker—more the kind who smokes in social situations, often with a drink in hand, without really worrying about it.
“An Intense Pain”
Then, all of a sudden… wow, it hurt.
An intense pain.
And that slight nausea that sets in, beads of sweat forming on the forehead.
At that point, there is no longer any real doubt.
The only thing to do is to call 911.
“The Decisive Call”
And from that moment on, let me tell you, everything moves fast.
The paramedics arrive quickly.
I am taken into their care.
A spray of nitroglycerin under the tongue as soon as they arrive.
An electrocardiogram, right there at home.
Aspirin to chew, immediately.
Then, we’re on our way.
Where exactly? I don’t really know.
Only one thing matters: please, make this pain go away.
I remained conscious throughout the entire trip.
And I can tell you this: it is completely normal not to remember everything.
Words.
Explanations.
The actions performed on you.
“Every Minute Counts”
Everything happens very quickly.
At that moment, there is only one thing to do: trust.
You are in good hands.
At the time, I had no idea what a STEMI or an NSTEMI was.
Those words meant nothing to me.
What I did know, however, was that something serious was happening.
Something beyond my control, but something that demanded immediate action.
Medicine has its precise, necessary, essential terms.
The patient, on the other hand, experiences a heart attack.
That’s the word you hear.
That’s the one that frightens you.
And that’s the one that stays with you.
I only vaguely remember arriving at the emergency department.
I must have stayed there only a few minutes.
Just long enough for bloodBlood is composed of red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, and plasma. Red blood cells are responsible for transporting oxygen and carbon dioxide. White blood cells make up our immune defense system. Platelets contribute to blood tests to be taken.
Then, almost immediately, I find myself in a room that looks very much like an operating room.
“You Know This Is Serious”
At that moment, I understand that what is happening is serious.
And that there is no time to lose.
Later, I would be told that one of the arteries in my heart had become blocked.
A small bloodBlood is composed of red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, and plasma. Red blood cells are responsible for transporting oxygen and carbon dioxide. White blood cells make up our immune defense system. Platelets contribute to blood clot, formed on a ruptured cholesterolCholesterol is essential for the proper functioning of the human body, but it can also have harmful effects if present in excess. >> plaque, was leaving almost no room for oxygen to reach the heart.
The pathway had to be opened quickly, to limit damage to the heart muscle — or even prevent it.
So I’m there, lying in that room, while everyone moves around me.
I’m regularly asked how I’m feeling, whether the pain is still there, whether it’s as intense.
I know medications are being given through my veins.
Then, suddenly — almost like magic — the pain nearly disappears.
“Relief, at Last”
Reassured, I must have fallen asleep.
When I wake up, I’m told that it’s over.
That the procedure went well.
And I can tell you this: no matter what terms they used to explain what they did, I had only one thought in mind — they saved my life.
“After the Emergency, Reality Sets In”
But it doesn’t end there.
I arrive in the intensive care unit.
The monitoring is close.
Electrodes on my chest, connected to a heart monitor.
Every heartbeat is observed, analyzed, recorded.
Even when the emergency has passed, even when doctors say the heart is doing better, memory does not forget.
A heart attack leaves an imprint that goes far beyond the heart muscle.
That’s where everything begins.
The realization.
The impact of the event on my life.
Not just for the next few days…
We’re talking about weeks, sometimes much longer.
Once the rush is over, once calm returns, everything shifts.
“The Night of Questions”
You find yourself alone in that room, with your thoughts.
I slept very little that first night.
I replay the sequence of events over and over again.
I remember the sense of euphoria I felt when leaving that cold room.
But now, in the silence of the night, negative thoughts multiply.
Why me?
What will become of me?
My job… my relationship… my training?
It’s a lot to take in all at once, especially for a Cartesian person like me.
That bad habit of wanting to understand everything, to control everything, to calculate everything.
And suddenly, it’s a blank page.
Of course, I was given many explanations during my hospital stay.
One key word kept coming up: time.
Recovery.
“Physically, I Feel Fine”
The problem is that physically, I feel very well.
I even sometimes feel like I’m taking the place of someone who is sicker than I am.
As if it were no longer necessary for me to be there.
A cardiologist came to explain the situation to me using an image that stayed with me.
— Mr. Robert, your heart needs rest.
If you had broken your leg, it would be in a cast. It would be visible.
In your case, the heart has “broken,” but we can’t put it in a cast.
So it’s the entire patient that needs to be put at rest, to allow the heart to heal with as few consequences as possible.
At that moment, I understood.
Even if it couldn’t be seen, something deep inside me had been profoundly affected.
And the healing process was only just beginning.
My hospital stay was coming to an end.
The staff had been extremely kind to me.
I was cared for, almost in spite of myself.
One thing is undeniable:
medical knowledge and technology are advancing by leaps and bounds.
“Behind Every Patient, There Is a Human Being”
But at times, I found myself wondering:
have we forgotten the patient?
The human being?
That small bundle of emotions we carry with us?
The questions remain there, unanswered:
— Can it happen again?
— Is this small discomfort something serious?
“Talking Is Also Part of Healing”
It’s important to remember that there is no such thing as a bad question.
There is no useless question.
If something worries or troubles you, it needs to be said.
Keeping these questions to yourself doesn’t help.
Over time, they tend to turn into anxiety.
And since some questions can easily be forgotten during a doctor’s visit at the bedside, it becomes helpful to write them down on a piece of paper and keep it within reach.
The medical staff is there to help.
You still have to dare to say what’s on your mind.
“Resources to Help You Move Forward”
We are also told about the different support resources available:
for example, help with smoking cessation, or cardiac rehabilitation programs.
These programs bring together several essential components:
nutrition, weight loss or maintenance,
and of course, the gradual return to physical activity.
To read: Healthy lifestyle habits
“Medication: A Necessary Part of the Journey”
And then, you have to accept that an event like this also comes with a list of medications to take.
That’s not always easy to accept, especially for those who dislike the idea of relying on pills.
But it’s about protecting our health and preventing certain complications.
I’m thinking here, among other things, of proper healing of the stent — that small metal spring placed in the artery that became blocked on that unforgettable day.
“Returning to Life”
Yes, you get through it.
Yes, you return to your life.
At first, with constant hypervigilance.
Every sensation is analyzed, interpreted, amplified.
And then, with time, memory — that remarkable faculty — slowly begins to forget.
The first days at home are marked by a powerful sense of awareness.
That feeling of having to stay alert to every signal.
That constant self-questioning at the slightest discomfort.
Healthy lifestyle habits take center stage.
You feel motivated.
Convinced.
Determined.
But that familiar little bundle of emotions sometimes has the bad habit of slipping back into its old slippers.
And little by little, certain bad habits resurface.
It’s not easy being human.
“No Longer Pretending”
It wasn’t until a year later that I truly understood.
I began to experience a few discomforts, without any particular effort.
Persistent fatigue.
A lack of energy that didn’t feel like me.
I consulted my doctor.
He recommended repeating an examination to check the condition of my arteries: a coronary angiography.
The results came back.
No new blockage.
No clogged artery.
False alarm.
That concern for my health brought me face to face with certain habits I had gradually taken up again… and that I let go of once more.
This second awakening was decisive.
I understood one essential thing:
I have coronary arteryThe two coronary arteries, the right and the left, form the blood network that supplies the heart with oxygen and nutrients. They are located directly on the surface of the heart and branch into smaller vessels that disease.
It is now part of me, for the rest of my days — many of them, I hope.
“What to Remember”
And that is precisely what I want to share here.
What I take away from this life experience is that we all have a role to play in preserving our health.
We have choices to make.
Adjustments to accept.
Some people, unfortunately, do not have that opportunity.
When we do, we need to take it.
Embrace it.
For ourselves, of course, but also for those who matter to us.
Why wait?
The elements of prevention for coronary arteryThe two coronary arteries, the right and the left, form the blood network that supplies the heart with oxygen and nutrients. They are located directly on the surface of the heart and branch into smaller vessels that disease are well known.
They are accessible.
All that remains is to take the step.
And truly commit to it.
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