January 7–8: When Everything Escalated

January 7–8 were the days when things stopped being “concerning” and became urgent.

Not dramatic. Not chaotic.
Urgent in the way hospitals get very quiet and very fast.

This is what actually happened.

January 6–7: The Problem Was Bigger Than It Looked

I went to the hospital after several days of feeling progressively worse — exhausted, nauseated, vomiting, barely able to eat or drink.

The initial diagnosis was diabetic ketoacidosis — a dangerous state where the body doesn’t have enough insulin to use sugar for energy and starts breaking down fat instead. That process makes the blood acidic and quickly becomes life-threatening if untreated.

Treatment started right away:

  • IV fluids
  • IV insulin

While that was happening, my heart rhythm suddenly became abnormal. I went into atrial fibrillation, where the heart beats fast and irregularly instead of in a coordinated way. Medications were started to slow it down, and I was admitted to the ICU.

At that point, everything still looked fixable.

The Morning of January 7: The Shift

Overnight, my heart rhythm returned to normal on its own. That should have been good news.

Instead, my blood pressure suddenly collapsed.

Even with aggressive fluids, it wouldn’t come up. Medications were started to squeeze my blood vessels just to keep blood moving to my brain and organs.

An ultrasound of my heart showed the real problem:

My heart was no longer pumping effectively.

Not stopped — but not strong enough to support my body.

An EKG showed changes that can look like a heart attack, so I was transferred urgently to another hospital for a cardiac catheterization.

Midday January 7: What It Wasn’t

At the second hospital, doctors checked my coronary arteries.

They were not blocked.

That ruled out a classic heart attack. But another test showed something just as serious:

The amount of blood my heart was pumping was critically low.

This condition is called cardiogenic shock — when the heart can’t supply enough blood to sustain the body.

Medications were started to force the heart to pump harder, but it wasn’t enough. The decision was made to transfer me again, this time to a hospital that specialized in advanced cardiac life support.

Evening January 7: Running Out of Room

By the time I arrived at the third hospital, my condition had deteriorated further.

I was barely alert.
My heart needed multiple medications just to move blood at all.
Even then, it wasn’t meeting demand.

An ultrasound showed that both sides of my heart were failing.

This was the point where medication alone could no longer bridge the gap. The doctors weren’t asking how to fix the heart yet — they were asking how to keep my organs alive long enough for that question to still matter.

The Decision: Mechanical Support

That night, the team made the call to place me on VA-ECMO, along with a temporary heart pump called an Impella.

In plain terms:

  • ECMO took blood out of my body, added oxygen, and pumped it back in — doing the work of my heart and lungs.
  • Impella helped unload my heart so it didn’t have to fight against that pressure.

Together, they did something critical:

They restored blood flow to my brain, kidneys, liver — everything — without relying on my heart to do the work.

This wasn’t a cure.
It was a pause button.

Overnight: Proof It Worked

Within hours of being placed on mechanical support, things changed.

  • My blood pressure stabilized
  • Medications were reduced and stopped
  • My kidneys began producing large amounts of urine again
  • Markers of poor circulation started improving

That response told the team something important:

My organs were injured, but not dead.
My heart was failing, but not irreversibly.

January 8: The Turn

By the morning of January 8, repeat heart imaging showed something unexpected.

My heart function had improved significantly.

Fast enough that one of the machines — the Impella — could already be removed.

That speed matters. It strongly suggested this wasn’t permanent heart damage, but a reversible injury, possibly triggered by:

  • severe metabolic stress
  • abnormal heart rhythm
  • inflammation

The machines hadn’t fixed my heart.
They had simply given it time and oxygen to recover.

Why These Two Days Matter

January 7–8 were the hinge point.

Before them, the trajectory was downward.
After them, recovery became possible.

Everything that followed — ICU stabilization, rehab, discharge — rests on the fact that when my heart couldn’t carry the load, a system stepped in and held it long enough for it to come back.

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