When the Heart Stops… At Just 31 Years Old
When most people think of open heart surgery, they picture older adults… not a young woman with four small children. But heart diseases don’t care how old you are. And as shocking as it is to be a young open heart surgery survivor…
This story begins with ignored symptoms, years of misdiagnosis, and a terrifying moment in an emergency room. It’s a story of surviving something most don’t see coming at 31… and the fight to heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Whether you’re facing your own health battles, searching for answers, or want to understand more about the cardiovascular system, this real-life experience is a reminder that you have to be your own advocate. And that miracles still happen.
The Moment My Heart Stopped…
I remember the exact moment my heart stopped. The beeping monitors. The sudden stillness. The overwhelming peace as everything faded to black.
I was 31, a mother of four, and in that instant, I was gone.
Everyone has a story, so I’ll tell you mine. Let’s go back to where it all started…
This is my journey of survival, faith, and a miraculous second chance… plus what I’ve learned along the way.
A Family History of Heart Diseases
Genetics.
It can shape our lives in ways we never expect. Heart disease stole my dad at 49… the night before his birthday.
Heart disease runs in my family.
My dad died suddenly at 49 from cardiovascular disease.
His arteries were blocked, cutting off blood flow to the heart organ.
Watching him suffer changed me. I exercised, ate “healthy,” and tried to avoid his fate.
But when I started having chest pain at 16, I knew something wasn’t right. My world shifted…
The Symptoms Doctors Dismissed
Over the years, I experienced everything from chest pain to shortness of breath, nausea (a heart symptom for women), pain radiating down my left arm…and many others…
Doctor after doctor dismissed my symptoms.
“It has to be anxiety,” they said.
I wanted to believe them, but something inside me knew better. Deep down I knew something was wrong with my ‘medical heart’.
The Day I Stopped Trusting My Own Body
At 17, I was ready to exercise my independence… I wanted to prove I could handle a doctor’s visit on my own, without my parents tagging along. I loved them dearly, but I was almost an adult, and this felt like an important step.
After running tests, my doctor sent me to a cardiologist (a heart doctor) for a follow-up. I went alone, determined to take control of my health. But the moment the doctor and his nurse walked in, they took one look at me and saw how young I was.
They pointed at me.
They started mocking me.
They laughed.
Told me how ridiculous I was for thinking something could be wrong with my heart.
I was mortified. I just sat there, wanting to disappear, wishing for it to be over so I could get out of there as fast as possible.
I sat frozen. My cheeks burned. My hands clenched into fists in my lap. I wanted to scream, to defend myself, to run… but instead, I just sat there, swallowing the shame. The moment they walked out, I bolted. The second I got to my car, I collapsed in sobs, gasping for air between each one. I had never felt so small.
I was so traumatized that when I got home, and my parents asked about the visit, I lied. I told them it was fine. Everything was fine. I never told my parents what really happened. That experience caused a pain inside of me that still aches sometimes today.
From that moment on in my life, every time I felt severe chest pain or struggled to breathe, I thought of that doctor and his nurse. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was all in my head.
And because of that one moment, I ignored my symptoms for years.
Years of Being Dismissed by Doctors
Every time my chest pain became unbearable, I would seek out another cardiologist… only to be told the same thing:
“It’s just anxiety. You’re fine.”
Or I’d end up in the ER, where they’d give me a cocktail of pain meds—never once considering it could be my heart.
I felt trapped in an endless cycle of fear, pain, and dismissal.
I loved my husband and children dearly, but some nights, I was so exhausted from the fight that I would pray:
“God, please just take me to Heaven so I don’t have to wake up tomorrow.”
And yet, every morning, I woke up.
[One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that we have to trust our instincts. When doctors dismiss your concerns but something inside you says otherwise… keep pushing. Find another doctor. Get a second opinion. Your health is too important to ignore. Never give up! Even if they make fun of you. Unfortunately, chest pain in women is often dismissed as anxiety.]
The Moment Everything Came Crashing Down
Fast forward to 1998. I was 31 years old, married with four little ones… the youngest just a year old.
I had been feeling worse than usual, but my cardiologist insisted I was fine.
I pushed through. I ignored my fatigue, shortness of breath, and chest pain. My skin was so pale, no color, which was weird for me because I was in the sun all the time.
One afternoon, my neighbor saw me sitting on a bucket in my garden, head in my lap.
“You need to see a doctor,” she told me.
I brushed it off. “It’s all in my head,” I said. Looking back, I can’t believe I said that.
I made my way inside and laid down on the couch for a while…with my little ones running around the house.
No matter how long I laid down, there was no chest pain relief.
I Could Barely Move…
I had already been to my cardiologist, and he sent me to a psychiatrist… because this just had to be all in my head. The psychiatrist didn’t think my symptoms were in my head, but he prescribed tranquilizers anyway.
Two days later, I was back in my garden, spraying pesticides without realizing the health risk.
By the end of the day, I was covered in dirt, grime, and chemicals.
I could barely move. I told myself I just needed to rest.
I collapsed onto the couch, intending to get up and take a shower.
I had a pressure in my chest I couldn’t explain. But I told myself the same lie I’d been repeating for years: ‘It’s all in my head.’
I never made it to the shower.
The next thing I knew, it was morning. I had passed out right there!
Finally, Someone Took Me Seriously
When I started moving around, the pressure in my chest was unbearable.
I told my husband, “The ER sounds really good right now.”
He hesitated. He taught Sunday school and didn’t want to miss it. But when he saw my face… saw how serious I was… he knew. We left immediately, all four kids in tow.
I never expected that the ER visit that morning would lead to the moment my heart actually stopped.
When we arrived at the ER, my husband dropped me off at the entrance (so he could park the car), and my young son walked in with me.
At first, the hospital staff didn’t take me seriously. They handed me a clipboard and told me to wait.
But when my husband arrived and saw this, he demanded they take me back immediately.
They did. They ran tests, and suddenly, everything changed.
You should have seen them scrambling when the results of my tests started coming in. It was the first time in over 15 years that anyone took me seriously, other than my family.
The Dr. looked at me and said, “You’re in heart failure. You’re having a heart attack.”
Flatlining: My Heart Stopped
There was no time to waste. No helicopters were available, so they loaded me into an ambulance and rushed me to the big hospital in Orlando. I remember parts of that ride… the sirens, the rush of movement, the concerned voices around me, but most of it was a blur.
A heart cath revealed my two left arteries were completely blocked from top to bottom. My skin had turned gray. I looked at the doctor and asked if I was going to be okay. He smiled and said, “Of course, honey, you’re going to be just fine.”
I smiled back and said. “Good. Because I want to see my kids grow up.”
And then, everything went black.
Three Surgeries in 24 Hours… And a Miraculous Survival
My heart organ stopped.
I could feel it… like the gears of a clock slowing, then grinding to a halt.
Everything went still.
[Facing death changes you. When everything went still, I realized how much of life I had taken for granted. Every single moment matters. Every hug, every laugh, every sunrise.]
Doctors scrambled to bring me back.
They had to use paddles to shock my heart back into rhythm… but the fight wasn’t over.
I needed emergency open heart surgery. My husband signed the paperwork, knowing there was a good chance I wouldn’t survive it. The doctors also had little hope I’d survive.
Surprisingly, after hours, the surgery was a success, but I was still bleeding from somewhere. They took me back into the operating room a second time, unfortunately, I was still conscious. The anesthesiologist was afraid too much medication would kill me, so I was awake… paralyzed, unable to move or speak… but fully aware of everything happening. Still… they could not find where I was bleeding from.
They decided I needed a third surgery to stop the bleeding. At this time, they had given me so much anesthesia that I couldn’t see. There was a tube in my throat, so I couldn’t talk either. I did not want to go back for a third surgery because I was awake for the second one.
There was one nurse in the room who was snarky. She told me, “Oh honey, you won’t even remember this when you wake up.” That angered me because I had been blown off so much in my life.
They gave me a pad and pen and since I couldn’t see, I had to feel where I was writing and hope it made sense. I took the time on top of the page to tell that snarky nurse I would indeed remember everything she said and I wasn’t happy about it.
Then, I blindly wrote on the rest of the page what happened during the second surgery. I made them promise to give me more anesthesia, even if it killed me. So they took me back again and this time, I really didn’t think I’d wake up.
Against All Odds… I Survived…
I mean, this was three surgeries in 24 hours…
I felt at peace… ready to see Jesus.
But I DID wake up.
It turned out, the bleeder was at the back of my heart in the chest wall, which is rare.
They were able to fix it.
Against all odds… I survived.
What Facing Death Taught Me
Open heart surgery recovery is no joke. I couldn’t move, talk, or see clearly. But I was alive. Recovery was long and grueling, but I saw everything differently. My faith grew stronger. I stopped taking life for granted. I knew I had been given a second chance for a reason. Life just felt more precious. I slowed down, cherished my moments, and found a new determination to take care of myself.
I also found a new doctor… the one who had saved my life.
That experience changed everything. I knew I had to do more than just survive… I had to learn how to live again. So I started exploring everything I could… faith-based healing, alternative wellness, natural remedies… anything that helped me feel more alive and whole.
Because here’s the truth:
💜 Every single moment matters. Don’t take a single day for granted.
💜 You have to be your own advocate. If something feels off, keep pushing.
💜 Wellness isn’t one-size-fits-all. What works for others may not work for you… and that’s okay.
💜 Stress is sneaky. A silent killer. Protect your peace. Guard your heart (literally and spiritually).
💜 And above all… faith and health go hand in hand. When you invite God into your healing journey, everything changes.
This is how I started thriving again. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But one grace-filled step at a time.
The Health Battles Didn’t End There
It hasn’t been an easy road. In 2002, I had a stroke that left the left side of my body paralyzed. But through sheer determination, I regained ALMOST all of my function.
In 2009, the arteries in my legs blocked up. I nearly lost my right foot, but doctors were able to save it.
Recently, I needed multiple stents and a loop recorder implant. And now, most of my labs are in the green.
Still, I keep going. My labs are mostly in the green today, but I stay alert. I monitor my heart medicine closely and adjust when needed. I never stop seeking answers… even outside traditional medicine.
I refuse to accept feeling sick as my ‘normal’.
Why I Share My Story
One day your story will become someone elses survival guide.
In the end we all become stories. That’s why I share my story.
I know I’m not the only one who has struggled with health issues, felt unheard, or searched for answers outside traditional medicine. I’m also an entrepreneur at heart and when I’m not feeling well, that interferes with everything, including family matters and the business side of my life.
I’ve discovered incredible things along my journey… some mainstream, some unconventional… and I can’t wait to share them with you.
Because when you feel better, you can live better, love deeper, and step fully into your purpose.
This is why wellness, business, and faith are inseparable in my life.
Without health, it’s hard to show up for our work (and purpose). Without faith, it’s impossible (for me) to keep going.
Wellness Is About Thriving… Not Just Surviving
I believe wellness is about more than survival. It’s about thriving. And we can’t do that if we don’t advocate for ourselves. It’s about finding the tools, habits, and even the weird little things that make a difference. The things that help us wake up with energy, feel good in our bodies, and live life to the fullest.
If you’re struggling with symptoms, don’t stop until you get answers. If you feel like something is off, trust that nudge. You are your own best advocate.
I’m sharing my story because someone out there is silently suffering. Maybe you. Maybe someone you love. And maybe this post is the sign they need to keep going.
You are not alone.
Let’s walk this healing journey together.
💜 Let’s thrive together… one step at a time.
Until next time…