Finally Listening to My Body
Four days of brushing off a cough ended with an ambulance. This summer, I made the call the same day. Same instinct, different response.
Four days of brushing off a cough ended with an ambulance. This summer, I made the call the same day. Same instinct, different response.
A quiet Saturday ride, a loch, and an engine cut to silence. Twelve years on, this is where my own mortality finds me now.
A hot afternoon, a heavy knapsack, and a voice telling me to keep going long after I should have stopped — and what I’ve learned about knowing the difference.
I’ve always known how to look after people. What I didn’t know how to do was let someone look after me.
After my heart attack, when the why me question hit, I already knew the answer. But not everyone does. And this week, losing a mate to a heart attack, that question came back in a different way entirely.
When I walked back through my front door after my heart attack, I found the cushions on the floor, the bucket, my towel — and looked across at my family photos thinking I’d seen them for the last time. This is about the question nobody prepares you for after surviving a cardiac event. Who am I now?
When you’ve been honest about your own struggles, people start opening up to you. But there’s a line — and I crossed it before I saw it coming. This is about helping others without running yourself into the ground.
There’s a part of recovery nobody prepares you for. Not the physical side — the quiet grief that comes with saying goodbye to the life you had before. There’s even a name for it: ambiguous loss. This is about mourning the old life, and finding room for the new one.
After a heart attack, the early changes often arrive quietly. This reflection explores adapting to a new lifestyle, listening inward, and learning to live differently without rushing.
Anger isn’t usually on the list of things you expect after a heart attack. But it shows up quietly — in the everyday frustrations when your body won’t do what it used to. This is about the anger so many men feel but rarely talk about, and why a lot of it is really grief in disguise.