As Jacquelyne Froeber tells
February is the American Heart Month.
It was in Waikiki on Friday evening and I was too late. I hurried behind the stage and apologized to the crew. “I went to the Mac switch to do my make -up and it took longer than planned,” I said.
That was not exactly right. I didn’t intend to go to the Mac – I had forgotten my make -up at home. And it wasn’t the first time. I move the eye contact with the other singers.
The truth was that I didn’t know what was going on with me. I was tired all the time – drained – even pulled up a staircase. And the forgetfulness was not like me. I circled it to work a full -time job and sing a few nights a week, but I knew something wasn’t.
Shortly before I went on the stage, I bent down to put water into my cup and felt pain in my back. I grabbed air and quickly got up. I had felt this pain before.
About a year earlier, I visited friends in Las Vegas when I started to burn and had back pain and nausea that did not disappear. I knew something was wrong, so I called 911. Myocarditis was diagnosed in the hospital – inflammation of the heart muscle. But they couldn’t tell me why it happened. I hadn’t been sick and there was no infection. I tried to ask questions – why did I have such severe pain? – But basically they blew me away, gave me morphine that literally made me sick and said the symptoms would disappear alone. At home I had a debit and the doctor said the same thing. I had myocarditis and I’m fine, but I shouldn’t push or train for a month.
2019
Now the same feeling was back, but a thousand times more intense. I did what many women do when I have heart problems – I tried to work through it. I exchanged with myself: if I could get through the set, I would drive myself directly to urgent care.
But I couldn’t do it. Until then, I could hardly get up. One of the singers called in 911, and the respondents took me on a stretcher through the full place of visitors and locals who were waiting to see the show.
In the hospital, the doctor came into the room and passed my symptoms with me. He said I have a heart attack and they wanted to be operated on.
I giggled. “It doesn’t happen,” I said.
I was only 39 years old. I trained most days of the week. I knew I could probably eat better, but it wasn’t as if I had a burger and french fries every day. In addition, it was not even possible for someone my age to have a heart attack … right?
I called my family. They agreed that it seemed strange that someone could have a heart attack so young, but I should have the procedure because something was wrong. I couldn’t disagree.
When I woke up from the operation, the doctor confirmed that I had a heart attack and that they had to do an angioplasty. He showed me on the X -ray where the balloon had been implanted in my heart. He also said that I seem to be anemic and low iron levels can contribute to a heart attack-and I had to take cholesterol and blood pressure falling medication.
I nodded when he gave me recipes and I was clarified to go home. After leaving, I was stunned and tried to wrap my brain to wrap what had just happened. I was still shocked when a nurse commented on how beautiful I looked. I realized that from the night before I was in full make -up – eyelashes and everything.
In the weeks after the operation, I was amazed at how much better I felt physically. I didn’t have the tedious breathing. I wasn’t tired. But mentally I fought. I was afraid that I would have another heart attack. I was in my life in a state of fear and waited for the other shoe to drop.
I was also depressed. I thought I would do everything shortly before the heart attack and yet it still happened. I felt in a way damaged – as if it were my fault. It took some time, but I started seeing a therapist and quickly learned that it is just as important to pay attention to their mental health as well as to look after a traumatic health event as their physical health.
When I talked to family and friends about what happened, everyone said the same thing: you are too young to have a heart attack. Most people, like me, thought they should be older and chest pain – but it’s not like the films. Women can have different symptoms than men, including severe heartburn, back pain and nausea like me. And the forgetfulness was also a sign due to the reduced blood flow of my brain.
2019
I wanted to spread the floor, so I contacted my local chapter of the American Heart Association. I started talking to events for heart attacks survivors and informed my experiences with myocarditis what was on the rise in young people while covid. In 2002 it was an honor for me to be an ambassador for the Movement of the American Heart Association’s Go Red for Women in order to raise awareness of heart health.
I have learned that a heart attack can influence a woman’s life in a way that you probably would probably not think about. For example, I was not able to continue to take anti -Bab types and I am not a candidate for hormone therapy because hormones increase the risk of cardiovascular event. I was also destroyed that I couldn’t be a bone marrow donor, even though I was a match for someone who really needed it.
In retrospect, I wished that I worked more for myself during visits to health service providers. I would have asked further questions when we said we would “monitor” my cholesterol level, but this did not contain a timeline or the fact that high cholesterol could lead to a heart attack. I would have informed myself about blood tests and the numbers and the signs and symptoms of heart attacks in women.
To go through such a terrible health shot changed my perspective on life. Not long after the heart attack, I terminated my full-time job for my companies to sing on singing and entertaining too-mainly on cruise ships all over the world.
So far I have been in 37 countries and wake up excitedly to do what I love every day because I know that everything can be disappeared immediately – so why not live life that you want to live? Just make sure that you take care of your heart on the way.
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Our real women, real stories are the authentic experiences of women in real life. The views, opinions and experiences that are shared in these stories are not supported by healthwomen and do not necessarily reflect the official politics or position of healthwomen.
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