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At first it was really hard to get a grasp on. I'm trying to take in and process what happened, I've got this uncomfortable tube down my throat and why is my leg tied down ( I thought my arms might have been too, but some memories are still a little fuzzy).

It was also rough, because the situation is so emotional; I mean I'm literally waking up in a strange place in strange circumstances and not only finding out I almost died, but also hearing of the heart warming displays of love I got from so many people. I'd like to say it was overwhelming, but that doesn't even begin to describe it.

Then there's the guilt, too. I remember one of the first notes I wrote was, "I'm sorry." That really weighed on me, too. Just to hear what had happened and what everyone went through was almost too much to handle.

That is where there is such a fine line between wanting to know what happened and protecting yourself from the roller coaster of emotions. Even now, four weeks after the attack, I'm still shying away from some details, because they are just too painful to find out about.

But after taking a little time to get my bearings, I was okay and I started to feel like my true self again, well as much as I could in a hospital bed after surgery... LOL

In fact one of the few humorous moments that morning was when we heard a strange noise in the room. Was it one of my monitors going off? Was there a problem with the heater or the air? Everyone in the room was speculating, but I knew right away. I signaled for a piece of paper and jotted down that it was my cell phone vibrating.

They checked and indeed I had a missed call and a message. The laughter was a good tension breaker.

The rest of the day was really a whirlwind for me, because so much was going on. It seemed every few minutes another doctor I didn't remember or a nurse I've never seen before where coming in to talk with me about something (or really tell me stuff because I had the tube in), take my blood pressure, check my pulse and every other little thing that good health care providers do to make sure you are okay.

Of everything that happened that morning and that day, there were a few things that stood out to me. One, I wanted to get my breathing tube out as soon as possible. It was painful, it was uncomfortable and when combined with all the drugs I was on it made me nauseous. Several times I remember coughing really hard and once I even puked all over myself. The nurse came in quickly to clean me off.

Secondly and most importantly, I recall a sense of determination came over me. My head became very clear and focused; I knew I would beat this. I never really shed tears over the things I was about to give up. My mindset was so that this is what had to be done to get better.

And I was going to do everything and anything I could to not only get better, but to become physically stronger and in better shape then ever. I really saw this as an opportunity to change my life.

That is something that I can't stress enough! Had I allowed the depression to kick in and felt sorry for myself about what happened, I wouldn't have already been back to work at this point, I would probably be laying on the couch, bored out of my mind right now. If there is one thing that I've learned from this, it is that attitude can go along way towards helping the body heal itself.

It started with the breathing tube, I wanted to get that out as soon as possible, because once I could talk again I knew it would be a sign that my recovery had begun. As far as the breathing tube goes, extraction is just like they show on programs like ER. Take in a deep breath and then blow out as hard as you can.

Good, that's over with. My next goal was to get rid of the catheter. I didn't want to get rid of it just because it was uncomfortable, I also thought if I could get it out, then I would have to go to the bathroom and that meant getting up and walking around. Removal was no cupcake either. For those who haven't had the pleasure, when it comes out it feels like you are going to the bathroom and then there is a burning feeling, but eventually it all feels better.

Now I think I need to dial it back for a minute here. Now I don't want anyone to think I was a bundle of pent up energy my first day, because I wasn't by any means. In fact, a lot of the time I was pretty exhausted. I took a nap or two in the afternoon, tried to go to sleep early and sleep late in the morning.

I guess you could say at some points, my determination was obviously at a level above and beyond my energy. But there was one difference this time; I realized that I had limitations. It might sound strange, but I was pushing and taking it easy at the same time. Perhaps it would be best to say I pushed, but in moderation.

Over the course of the week, I got into a pretty good routine on the road to recovery. After my first night in the hospital where I wasn't overly medicated enough to sleep through the whole night, I learned going to bed early was key, because I was going to be woke up four five times a night.

At one or two in the morning I got a breathing treatment; around three they checked my blood pressure, took my pulse and drew some blood; and at some other point in the night I was given some medication. Almost every night, I got woke up to check on the leads on my heart monitor. It got to the point, where they would come in and I would say, "It's the black lead and it's on."

They would then rip the sticker off and some chest hair with it and move it somewhere else. No pain, no gain I guess.

I admit I was slightly disappointed when I learned I wouldn't be going home Thursday, but Friday instead. But I didn't let that cause an emotional setback. I knew that once I got out those doors, my life would change forever, but at the same time I knew it already had. The best thing I had going for me at that point was my positive attitude, as well as the love and support of my wife, family, friends and the entire Thumb community.

I mean over the course of my recovery I got around 40 cards and many calls from concerned friends. I also will say I was surprised by some of the people that reached out to share their best wishes. I guess sometimes you don't really know what people think of you until something bad like this happens.

But I digress... Thursday proved to be a big day in its own right. I had to get an EKO done to see what damage was done to my heart if any. The test was simple enough, but waiting for the results was terrible.

As it was explained to me, when I arrived in the hospital my heart function was under 30 percent. When the function is that low, you can just drop dead at any time, which is almost what happened to me.

It was the hope of the cardiology team that my function return to above 30 percent when I left, otherwise I would have had to wear a vest with a defibrillator. From there, we would have a 40 day window for it to get above 30. If it didn't after 40 days, they would have "installed" a defibrillator.

Lucky for me when I got the results, my function was around 55 percent. So I made dramatic improvement in just a few days and with a second stent that would be put in six weeks, we were all optimistic my function would be normal a few weeks after my second procedure.

With this good news, Friday couldn't come soon enough. But as I was getting checked out to leave, my nurse inundated me a few more overwhelming items. One of which was the little bottle of nitro pills I would need to carry around with me at all times. She explained to me how to use it, when to use it and what I should do if it did or didn't work.

Then she described the other six pills I would need to take and what they were all for. Okay that is going to take some getting used to.

After we got clued in to how my medication worked, Jill and I were on our way home. Just a few turns into the ride, we passed by a funeral procession and she commented that had I not made it Monday, my funeral would have been that day.

I spent the rest of the ride to Wal-Mart in Caro, thinking about my funeral. Who would have been pallbearers? Who would have come to pay their respects? What would people have said about me?

As we pulled into the parking lot, I could barely hold back the tears as I shared with her some of my most important feelings about some items, including my obituary. I told her if something bad ever happened to me again, I wanted my obit to make special mention of my favorite uncle, Jim Peters and my best friend Paul Adams.

After regaining my composure, we went inside with the mission of overhauling our refrigerator and cupboards. Several times during the trip, I just had to take a seat and relax, because walking around the story for more than 20 minutes made me pretty tired.

So tired in fact that I'm pretty sure I conked out on the way home and caught about 45 minutes of sleep. When I woke up and I realized that we were entering Ubly... well, I'll just say it is another one of those moments that is almost too hard to describe. I know one thing; I was never more excited to crawl into my own bed in my entire life.

As I entered the front door, I knew I was starting a new chapter in my life, a much healthier one and I was looking forward to the challenge.

Come back next week, as I talk about my time at home and the life adjustments I made in those first two weeks, including how I started to exercise again. I'll also discuss one of my goals for when I am fully recovered.
In the meantime, I implore you all to take a long, hard look at your life and your own health. If my heart attack proved anything, it is that "it can't happen to me" is just an excuse to prevent us from taking a look at the lifestyles we are living and the changes we need to make to live a long, healthy life.
It is my hope in writing this series that at least one person, but hopefully more, will make those positive changes in their life and avoid some of the things that happened to me.