Second Chances: An Unexpected New Beginning

Trisha Faye

Sudden cardiac arrest changes your life; if you live through it. Fortunately, I did. I got a second chance at life on October 21, 2010, my new “birthday”.

I’m no stranger to new beginnings. I’ve started over several times. However, those new beginnings were my choices. They were changes to a life that had grown intolerable. They happened at a time when I was (somewhat) ready for them.

Sometimes new beginnings are not our choice. They can be unexpected and knock you down when you least expect it. Over the past twenty years, I grew and discovered what I wanted—and didn’t want—in my life. My first new beginning was leaving an unhappy marriage of many years. Ten years later, I quit a fairly well-paying job and moved out of the state I’d lived most of my life in. A year later, I packed up again and moved to another state and a new lifestyle. None of these were easy. All three major upheavals involved pain, tears, and consequences. My growth and the positive benefits gained far outweighed what I lost.

One life-altering October day, my perspective changed forever—completely uninvited; but oh, so welcomed. Sitting on an airplane, approximately 25,000 feet above ground, thirty minutes before landing, my heart stopped beating. What’s this? This was not on my agenda. I was going to live to 85 years old. It was not in ‘my plan’ to suffer sudden cardiac arrest at 52 years of age!

B.C. (Before cardiac arrest), I didn’t believe in accidents. I didn’t believe in coincidences. I still don’t, even more adamantly now. I should have been home sleeping at that hour. It should have been about twenty minutes before the alarm rang. I would have slept right through the event and never known it happened. Instead, I was sitting on an airplane next to my partner who started immediate CPR. There were three doctors on board, available for instant medical attention, along with immediately accessible oxygen and a defibrillator. Now, what are the odds of that?

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross said, “Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose. There are no mistakes, no coincidences; all events are blessings given to us to learn from.” Because of my beliefs about synchronicity, I knew that this wasn’t a coincidence. But it still took a while to learn from this incident.

Several weeks passed before I acknowledged the realty of what happened. When it finally did, I would think in shock, “Oh my goodness, I died!” My life had ended, if only for moments, despite what my “plans” were. Why? That’s a question that’s plagued me since then. Why was everything in place so I could live? Why didn’t I die that day? Why am I still here? Truthfully, the question remains unanswered over a year later. I’m still looking for that answer.

I knew that my life had to change. As good as my life was before this happened, if nothing changed at all, it would be a waste. It would be a travesty to get this second chance and not use it as an opportunity for a deeper meaning or purpose to my life. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “It is not length of life, but depth of life.” This new beginning, even if unexpected and unasked for, had to matter.

This near-death experience taught me a few lessons. I learned not to take life for granted. I gained a new appreciation for life and the life I have. I’m sure there are more lessons to discover on the path ahead. One of many lessons that made a difference in my life since is that I now embrace the opportunity to celebrate life in all ways.

Celebrate Life

I used to think that I always had tomorrow. I knew that life is fragile and sometimes ends too soon. I wasn’t a stranger to death touching my life. I have friends whose children died unexpectedly. When I was a new mother in 1984, my friend Sherry’s son, Scott, died. Many years later, in 2002, my friend Becky’s 24 year old daughter died. My brother died at the much-too-young age of 35. Cancer took the lives of my stepson Mark, my step dad, Chuck, and my cousin’s young wife, Kim. Death has wrapped its tenuous cold arms around my life and those of my family and friends, bringing its sorrow, pain, and grief with it. Yet, I somehow believed I was invincible. I knew death would also come to me. I didn’t expect it for many, many years. I was wrong.

Before, I enjoyed life and celebrated many occasions. Now, I realize that I didn’t enjoy and relish the small things in life. Now, I celebrate life every day, not just on vacations, holidays and special occasions. The “big” reasons to celebrate are great; babies born, graduations, weddings, birthdays, promotions, new jobs, and anniversaries. What about the “small” things in life? Do you celebrate the dependable car that keeps starting and gets you to work every day? Or, the color pink (or purple, or yellow) that is such a brilliant, cheerful color? Or, the hummingbird that flutters from flower to flower in an iridescent flash?

The first several months after my cardiac arrest, I was acutely aware—every day—that I was alive and breathing, and was grateful for every new breath. Then, as so easily happens in life, I started to get caught up in the “humdrum” activities of life and before I knew it, I was back in my daily routines, with barely a conscious thought about what gave my life meaning. Old habits can be hard to break. It took concentrated and deliberate effort to break out of the habitual cycle and emotions that become engrained.

E. E. Cummings wrote, “Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.” He is so right. Living, breathing, and simply going through the motions of life is miserable. Being truly alive, feeling the joys and zest of living, of full, happy life, even with its occasional sorrows and sadness, is richer and more meaningful.

New Years Day this year dawned bright and sunny in North Texas. I basked in the warmth of the day, reveling in the gorgeous start to a brand new year. I headed out to the backyard to deliver a bountiful pile of birdseed to the feathered residents of Sheri Lane; sparrows, cardinals, mockingbirds, and doves. The birds fluttered to higher perches as I unlatched the back gate and a Blue Jay screeched from the yard behind us.

A flash of color caught my attention. Peering closer in the unmowed grass, unusually green for this time of year, I spied a dandelion, proudly flaunting its brilliant yellow coat, as if taunting winter. Hurrying inside for my camera, I spotted several more, scattered around the yard and tucked into tufts of rangy grass. I captured a few shots and stood admiring these tiny pieces of bright joy. That was my celebration for the day, enjoying the unexpected dandelion delights on a winter’s day.

Let Go of Unauthentic Activities

One morning, while visiting California, I logged onto Facebook before heading out for the day. One of my friends posted this status: “Let go of anything unauthentic and all activities that do not mirror your brightest intentions for yourself.” These words resonated with me. I jotted them down so I’d remember them. Arriving home, I copied the statement and taped it to my keyboard where I see it everyday. I can’t count how many times I’ve used these words as a yardstick to measure my activities and to evaluate my life. At the time, I avidly maintained five different Facebook farms, spending several hours a day planting, harvesting, and plowing, buying farm critters and barns, moving fences and planting orchards.

One morning, as I sat plowing my “acreage”, I paused and gazed through the back window, observing my “real” garden out back, laying fallow and looking forlorn and unloved. What in the world was I doing? I was spending hours a day farming my virtual farms, while the whole back yard was at my disposal for a real garden and it was untouched.

The virtual farms now lie untouched and fallow. Of course, the Texas heat ramped up in a week, withering the pea plants within days. I only harvested two pea pods. (But that’s a whole other story.) I sure enjoyed every hour spent in the spring garden, hearing the birds sing and feeling the sunshine soaking into every pore, regardless of how much harvest we did, or didn’t, get.

This ‘unauthentic’ yardstick is pulled out almost every day. Dinner with friends we enjoy spending time with? Absolutely! Time spent on a craft project I enjoy doing? Absolutely! Attend a baby shower for someone at work that I barely know, only enough to say ‘hello’ as we pass? Not today. I’ll send a card and a small gift since she is a sweet girl. But I’ll pass on spending four to five precious hours of my one guaranteed Sunday off, thank you.

I’ll admit, although I’ve given up my virtual farms, I still play a few computer games. But now, I make a conscious decision about how I’m spending my time. I play the games I enjoy, for short periods of time only, consciously choosing this as a relaxation period. Then I move on and use my time productively, either accomplishing a task that moves me closer to one of my goals, completing a chore that needs attended to, or immersing myself in a craft project for the joy of creating.

Other Lessons

Is this all I’ve learned from my near-death experience? Oh my, no! I’ve learned so many...