Grief and Heartache
The Day My Heart Broke On Dog Beach
Feb 6
Written By Tracey Chester
The Day My Heart Broke on Dog Beach
One of the reasons the death of someone close is so profoundly shaking for us is that it holds up the mirror to us and says, “you too”. Sometimes this may seem a welcome prospect- our wish to join the loved one is strong, and our aversion to life without the person is so great.
Yet there is a way in which we draw back from facing our own vulnerability and the prospect of our own death. We read of death daily, sometimes skirt close to it in our own and loved ones’ illnesses, but when it enters the portals of our own family and close friendships, it speaks in a different, more intimate language. The mysteries and quandaries of death ask their recurrent questions: is there life beyond? Do we know one another in a personal way? Do we know ourselves? Or do we become a part of some great cosmic energy? There are no sure answers to these questions. The best answer- as the best memorial to our loved one — is to live our lives fully, one day at a time.
“I am a citizen of this day. Tomorrow will bring its own demands, its own gifts “ (from “Healing After Loss” by Martha Whitmore Hickman
I have been grieving lately; for friends, family, and frankly for the world.
We all are. During this time of Covid-19 and racial and social injustice, as a country, and as a world, we are collectively grieving. Social Media has brought the world to our fingertips, and the mass amounts of negative news stories tend to dominate. Some inspire change, but most just reminds us of all of the troubles that we cannot control.
Death and illness are striking closer and closer to home, as we knew it would. In the last few weeks, I learned of three deaths. One of my dearest friends and closest colleagues lost her adult son, a husband, and a father of two young children to a tragic automobile accident. Another friend lost her sister suddenly, to a chronic illness that had plagued her and, unfortunately, coincided with the COVID outbreak in Florida.
Another close friend lost her 56-year-old brother to COVID, right here in my very own neighborhood.
Many times, I feel it is all too much to bear, and I think to all people, and especially those of us with trauma, everything is amplified. It can make a symphony that much sweeter and magical, it can bring us to our knees in despair, but it does make us capable of deep, deep empathy, to such deep empathy….. that we may literally “feel” our hearts break.
That’s what happened to me at the dog beach. My heart broke, literally.
And it landed me in an ambulance to the ER, for symptoms of a heart attack. It was one of the scariest moments of my life, unexpected as it was. Nothing I’d ever conceived would happen to me, despite the multitude of health conditions from which I suffer. I call it my heart attack moment.
It felt like a pull and a snap at the same time. and it was RIGHT ABOVE MY POUNDING HEART, as I felt dizzy. One of the many nagging thoughts I had been having: Is there such a thing as “broken heart syndrome by proxy? AM I pushing myself too hard? And what have these weird moments happened when I felt my heart literally beat out of my chest after a tough paddle out, compounded by an instant headache?
This heart attack moment I had was, I think now, the most synchronous intersection of mind and body I’d ever experienced. .Physical and mental collided instantaneously, as what I thought to be pain associated with a heart attack was actually the feeling of a sudden rotator cuff strain.
At literally the same moment, thinking, You know,you really may be pushing yourself too hard, and hearing my mom’s voice saying to my Dad, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you don’t slow down.
Here’s the thing about heartbreak — it is a real thing with real medical consequences. There is a condition called Broken Heart Syndrome. You may have heard about it — it is usually tied to a significant loss of a loved one, but really can be tied to any form of loss.
I learned about and witnessed broken heart syndrome during my 5 years as a grief counselor at the hospice. It is real, and the more you learn about it the more you understand why.
Broken heart syndrome is not that well explained by science. It is a bit of an unknown- a change in blood flow, of a flutter, that causes anything between a flutter to sudden sharp pain. At worst people actually go into cardiac arrest. There was a distinct possibility for me that day to think such a thing.
According to the Mayo Clinic, Broken heart syndrome is often preceded by an intense physical or emotional event. Some potential triggers of broken heart syndrome are the death of a loved one, A frightening medical diagnosis, Domestic abuse,. financial difficulty, divorce, physical stressors, such as an asthma attack, COVID-19 infection, a broken bone, or major surgery.
Some triggers may be “good” events, a surprise party, winning a lot of money.
And they note that risk factors are sex (more women than men affected, of course), age (older than 50), a history of a neurological condition, and a previous or current psychiatric disorder.
I meet 3 of the 4 criteria. Plus a significant family history of sudden fatal, cardiac events at young ages. and years of medication, for both pain and PTSD, which wreaked havoc with my metabolic system.
And, my friends, you may not know this, but I am fifty-ONE. Not 50.
fifty-ONE…
What is the difference?
50, for me, was indeed fabulous, as society told me I might expect, or at least act like it was. I. was lucky to be able to take at the moment. I was feeling the best I’d felt physically in a long time, feeling a little wiser, a little calmer, and much more grounded. My 50th was celebrated by a nice, small fun party with my closest friends, dancing to 70s and 80s music. Doing the Electric Slide, and feeling my heart burst with love and fun memories.
Fifty-ONE, however, said to me “you are a mere mortal’, ‘look”, it says, “all of the death around you”.
So as I sat there, with a blood pressure cuff on, hot in the sun by my car at the dog beach, with my concerned daughter looking on, as well as other onlookers. I knew logically I was most likely fine.
That day, paramedics and every nurse and doctor asked, both as I sat there, and in the ER., “Ma’am, how old are you?”
“I’m fifty-ONE”, I said emphatically. as if declaring it for the very first time. Like a kid saying I’m TEN.
It was not the heart attack that I feared I was having at that moment, but for the first time, I understood it could be a possibility. All turned out to be fine: a combination of dehydration, overexertion, and a simultaneous rotator cuff strain. I literally felt my fascia give way, right above my heart, which was, I think, signaling me to take a good hard look at what my body was telling me. and re-evaluate the constant pressure I put on myself to be healthier.
Slow down. take a rest. let myself experience the emotions of grief unrestrained, flowing, to not try to surf them away. And after the scare, I did grieve, heavily. For days. It was needed.
51 IS a big deal. A wiser, older woman confirmed for me recently. It’s on the other side of fifty. It is timed with our reproductive cycles. A time for most women, when our bodies are naturally designed to stop being able to birth children. A time to take a moment for oneself and turn towards helping others, whilst always helping the younger generations to complete the cycle again.
The fact that I am experiencing such intense moments by Mother Ocean seems no mystery to me at all.
