As a nurse, I am trained to look for answers, follow protocols, and rely on evidence-based medicine. But two years ago, when my 40-year-old husband Mick had a heart attack out of nowhere, I was forced into a reality that no medical textbook prepares you for: the certainty of uncertainty.
At the time, we had an eight-week-old baby and three other beautiful kids at home. Outside of family history, Mick had zero traditional risk factors. He was young, active, and healthy- a 2-time Chicago Marathon runner himself! Yet, there I was, sitting in the ICU with a newborn strapped to my chest, watching my husband slide downhill fast before being taken to the cath lab to receive two stents.
The next few months were a blur of appointments and anxiety. We made it through by God's grace and coordinated support from those near and dear to us. We did everything we were supposed to do. We looked for answers. We followed every clinical guideline. We completed cardiac rehab. Took the medications. We do the work. And slowly we built our way back to normalcy. But heart disease wasn't done showing us how unpredictable it could be. Just five months later, Mick’s mom passed away from a sudden heart attack.
That loss threw us right back to square one. It stripped away whatever fragile sense of safety we had rebuilt and left us with a glaring reality—family history is a powerful, silent driver. The only thing we know for sure is that we cannot be 100% certain it won't happen again. Living with the certainty of uncertainty is exhausting. It means living in the shadow of a "what if" that protocols can't quite answer.
Today, we are in a stable place. Mick has dedicated himself to warning others, literally saving lives by pushing our friends and family to get checked. Several friends who felt healthy have needed to start medications, get procedures, and have open heart surgery. He's become quite the heart health champion, and would be happy to sit with any of you and advise you on tests to request that may not be standard in your annual well visit.
This is why I am running the Chicago Marathon for the American Heart Association.
I am not just running to raise awareness; I am running to change the playbook. We need advanced screening protocols designed specifically to catch the people who don’t fit the traditional "high-risk" mold. We need better tools, deeper research, and earlier detection so that young families like ours don't have to live in the gray area.
