Day 24 over 600,000 steps so far. 16 days to go. I am 69 years old and have suffered a heart attack and prostate cancer. I am attempting to walk 1,000,000 steps in 40 days which is 25,000 steps everyday.

83,220 steps in one day. I was 68 at the time. The only thing stopping me from reaching 100,000 was a blister

83,220 steps in one day. I was 68 at the time. The only thing stopping me from reaching 100,000 was a blister.

Sardines Nutrition

One 100-gram serving of canned sardines in oil contains:

• Calories: 208
• Protein: 24.6 grams
• Total fat: 11.4 grams
• Cholesterol: 142 milligrams
• Carbohydrates: 0 grams
• Fiber: 0 grams
• Sugars: 0 grams 
• Sodium: 307 milligrams

Sardines are a source of vitamins, minerals, and fatty acids including:

• Calcium
• Iron
• Omega-3 fatty acids
• Vitamin D
• Magnesium
• Phosphorus
• Potassium
• Zinc
• Copper
• Manganese
• Selenium
• Thiamin
• Riboflavin
• Niacin
• Pantothenic acid
• Vitamin B6
• Folate
• Choline
• Vitamin B12
• Vitamin A
• Retinol
• Vitamin E
• Vitamin K

My Story

It was a warm Thursday evening on January 5, 2023. The previous day, I had an MRI for prostate cancer. I hate MRIs, and it was during the MRI my blood pressure went through the roof—I think that is what triggered this whole chain of events. It was the eve before my youngest daughter's birthday, who was tragically taken from us in a car accident at the tender age of eighteen. I later found out that my eldest son's fiancé had also been admitted to hospital the previous night, suffering from her own medical emergency. I was 66 years old at the time.

I had been in the backyard pruning back a rather large tree, and upon returning inside about 9 PM, my left shoulder began to ache. Mild to start with, but it progressed rapidly to the point where I took some paracetamol, thinking that I had strained a muscle cutting down that tree.

It soon became very apparent this was no ordinary pain. Instinctively, I knew I needed help—and fast.

Luckily my sons were home and called an Ambulance for me, I was too far gone to use a phone.

The paramedics later confirmed I only had minutes to live. A 100% blockage in one of my major arteries caused my heart to shut down in an instance. A grim reality the doctors would later call a "widowmaker" for its notorious lethality.

Fortunately for me, the ambulance arrived within nine minutes. They did a quick assessment and knew I was suffering a life-threatening heart attack. They started treating me immediately, but it soon became apparent they would need extra help. Two different paramedic teams arrived as they tried to stabilize me.

They stayed in the ambulance with me on our way to the hospital, where the cardiology team was already waiting for my arrival. Upon entering the hospital, I was quickly transferred to the emergency operating theatre where my first stent was placed in my blocked artery and opened up to get the blood flowing again.

I remember that night being called to the other side. I was lying there in pain with the paramedics around me. I felt myself looking into a square box like a picture frame or a TV that was turned off. What I was gazing into was a blurry mess of coloured horizontal lines. I can't recall the exact words I said to myself, but they went along the lines of "NOT NOW," "NOT YET," or "NOT THIS TIME." At that moment, the lines disappeared and I remained conscious.

I was so close to death I could touch it. That night made me realize I had unfinished business to attend to, and every day since then I have tried to move forward and make my life count for myself and my loving family. I was given a second chance, which I don't take for granted.

By midnight, I was back in a hospital bed being cared for by the wonderful nurses. So in the space of a short three hours, my life as I knew it had been flipped on its head.

The next morning, the doctors came in and gave me a report on what happened. They were truthful in their assessment and told me straight out they thought they were going to lose me. I was told they had inserted one stent, but I would need two more.

I was due for another procedure the following Tuesday, but they ran out of time, so it was pushed out until Thursday. This is where things all started to go wrong again. Putting in the second stent took a lot longer than what they thought, and my weakened body had been through enough at that stage, so they abandoned trying to insert the third stent. I had been subjected to a high amount of radiation and drugs at that point, so they decided the best way forward would be for me to come back in a month's time and put in the final stent.

A Second Brush with Death

The second time I nearly died was when I had a reaction to the drug Heparin. It was during the procedure of placing the third stent. They had used Heparin on me twice before, but on this occasion, my body started to reject the Heparin and began to fight it. My immune system had built up antibodies towards the Heparin in the month before the third stent was put in.

They inserted the last stent successfully, but my body completely shut down afterwards because my platelets had dropped to a very dangerous level, and the medical team thought I was going to die again. When I finally opened my eyes, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses from different departments in the hospital. The Cardiology team was there as well as the Urology, Haematology, and specialists from the Intensive Care Unit. It was a very scary time for all involved. Thankfully, I responded to the medication they gave me, but it was touch and go for the next 24 hours. All I can remember is feeling so weak—I couldn't even lift my arms off the bed. I was completely drained.

The Road to Recovery

During my reaction to the Heparin, they decided to insert a catheter, which set off another chain of events to go wrong. The first catheter leaked, so one of the nurses tried putting another one in but failed. So they called in a more experienced doctor from the Urology department who inserted the third one in less than an hour. Just over 48 hours later, they released me from the hospital after the catheter was removed. I was not in a good way at all, and in less than 12 hours, I was back in the Emergency department because I was urinating blood clots.

There were also a lot of other things that went on in those first three months, including an infected wrist from using the same spot to insert multiple cannulas, as well as a cystoscopy because they thought I had bladder cancer. Not to mention the endless amounts of follow-up blood tests and doctors' appointments.

It was at this stage I knew that my full recovery was in my hands. The medical team had worked their magic; now the rest was up to me. So it was a long, slow grind of eating the right foods and gently easing myself into regular exercising. I set a timeframe of 6 months to be back fit and strong again, and by October, I had reached my goals.

For weeks before that Thursday night, my body had been screaming for attention:

● Unexplained exhaustion that made climbing stairs feel like mountain climbing

● Rapid weight gain that seemed to come from nowhere

● Severe swelling in my legs and feet—so bad I had to cut my socks down the sides just to get them on

● Persistent puffiness from fluid retention that I blamed on "getting older"

I was already on blood pressure medication. I was taking cholesterol tablets. I thought I was covered. I thought those little pills were my insurance policy against disaster.

I was dangerously wrong.

The Brutal Truth About Prevention

Those medications? They're tools, not guarantees. They're part of the solution, not the entire answer. My pills couldn't overcome years of accumulated damage, couldn't compensate for the lifestyle choices I'd made, couldn't reverse the silent progression of disease that was quietly strangling my arteries.

While I was taking my daily medications and thinking I was safe, my cardiovascular system was staging a rebellion. The plaque was building. Arteries were narrowing. My heart was working overtime, and I had no idea.

Someone in the world dies from a heart attack every 1.8 seconds

and it is the number one killer of women.

There is a lot more to this story but you can see how your life as you once knew it can change in a "Heart Beat ' no pun intended.

After your life has changed forever comes the "Recovery" which is probable the hardest part of all because you are entering something you have never experienced before and it can be terrifying.

The good news though is once you get your head around what exactly has happened to your body you can adjust. Make no mistake there is no quick fix, it will take time. Your body is amazing and you'll be blown away at how good it is at repairing itself given the right conditions.

I talk to my heart now and tell it how sorry I am for abusing it for all those years. Take time to listen to your body and treat it with respect and it will respond by giving you a Healthy life.

I am 69 years old turning 70 in August. I am a heart attack and prostate cancer survivor.

My Story
It was a warm Thursday evening on January 5, 2023. The previous day, I had an MRI for prostate cancer. I hate MRIs, and it was during the MRI my blood pressure went through the roof—I think that is what triggered this whole chain of events. It was the eve before my youngest daughter's birthday, who was tragically taken from us in a car accident at the tender age of eighteen. I later found out that my eldest son's fiancé had also been admitted to hospital the previous night, suffering from her own medical emergency. I was 66 years old at the time.

I had been in the backyard pruning back a rather large tree, and upon returning inside about 9 PM, my left shoulder began to ache. Mild to start with, but it progressed rapidly to the point where I took some paracetamol, thinking that I had strained a muscle cutting down that tree.

It soon became very apparent this was no ordinary pain. Instinctively, I knew I needed help—and fast.
Luckily my sons were home and called an Ambulance for me, I was too far gone to use a phone.
The paramedics later confirmed I only had minutes to live. A 100% blockage in one of my major arteries caused my heart to shut down in an instance. A grim reality the doctors would later call a "widowmaker" for its notorious lethality.

Fortunately for me, the ambulance arrived within nine minutes. They did a quick assessment and knew I was suffering a life-threatening heart attack. They started treating me immediately, but it soon became apparent they would need extra help. Two different paramedic teams arrived as they tried to stabilize me.
They stayed in the ambulance with me on our way to the hospital, where the cardiology team was already waiting for my arrival. Upon entering the hospital, I was quickly transferred to the emergency operating theatre where my first stent was placed in my blocked artery and opened up to get the blood flowing again.

I remember that night being called to the other side. I was lying there in pain with the paramedics around me. I felt myself looking into a square box like a picture frame or a TV that was turned off. What I was gazing into was a blurry mess of coloured horizontal lines. I can't recall the exact words I said to myself, but they went along the lines of "NOT NOW," "NOT YET," or "NOT THIS TIME." At that moment, the lines disappeared and I remained conscious.
I was so close to death I could touch it. That night made me realize I had unfinished business to attend to, and every day since then I have tried to move forward and make my life count for myself and my loving family. I was given a second chance, which I don't take for granted.

By midnight, I was back in a hospital bed being cared for by the wonderful nurses. So in the space of a short three hours, my life as I knew it had been flipped on its head.
The next morning, the doctors came in and gave me a report on what happened. They were truthful in their assessment and told me straight out they thought they were going to lose me. I was told they had inserted one stent, but I would need two more.
I was due for another procedure the following Tuesday, but they ran out of time, so it was pushed out until Thursday. This is where things all started to go wrong again. Putting in the second stent took a lot longer than what they thought, and my weakened body had been through enough at that stage, so they abandoned trying to insert the third stent. I had been subjected to a high amount of radiation and drugs at that point, so they decided the best way forward would be for me to come back in a month's time and put in the final stent.

A Second Brush with Death
The second time I nearly died was when I had a reaction to the drug Heparin. It was during the procedure of placing the third stent. They had used Heparin on me twice before, but on this occasion, my body started to reject the Heparin and began to fight it. My immune system had built up antibodies towards the Heparin in the month before the third stent was put in.
They inserted the last stent successfully, but my body completely shut down afterwards because my platelets had dropped to a very dangerous level, and the medical team thought I was going to die again. When I finally opened my eyes, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses from different departments in the hospital. The Cardiology team was there as well as the Urology, Haematology, and specialists from the Intensive Care Unit. It was a very scary time for all involved. Thankfully, I responded to the medication they gave me, but it was touch and go for the next 24 hours. All I can remember is feeling so weak—I couldn't even lift my arms off the bed. I was completely drained.

The Road to Recovery
During my reaction to the Heparin, they decided to insert a catheter, which set off another chain of events to go wrong. The first catheter leaked, so one of the nurses tried putting another one in but failed. So they called in a more experienced doctor from the Urology department who inserted the third one in less than an hour. Just over 48 hours later, they released me from the hospital after the catheter was removed. I was not in a good way at all, and in less than 12 hours, I was back in the Emergency department because I was urinating blood clots.
There were also a lot of other things that went on in those first three months, including an infected wrist from using the same spot to insert multiple cannulas, as well as a cystoscopy because they thought I had bladder cancer. Not to mention the endless amounts of follow-up blood tests and doctors' appointments.
It was at this stage I knew that my full recovery was in my hands. The medical team had worked their magic; now the rest was up to me. So it was a long, slow grind of eating the right foods and gently easing myself into regular exercising. I set a timeframe of 6 months to be back fit and strong again, and by October, I had reached my goals.

For weeks before that Thursday night, my body had been screaming for attention:
● Unexplained exhaustion that made climbing stairs feel like mountain climbing
● Rapid weight gain that seemed to come from nowhere
● Severe swelling in my legs and feet—so bad I had to cut my socks down the sides just to get them on
● Persistent puffiness from fluid retention that I blamed on "getting older"
I was already on blood pressure medication. I was taking cholesterol tablets. I thought I was covered. I thought those little pills were my insurance policy against disaster.
I was dangerously wrong.
The Brutal Truth About Prevention
Those medications? They're tools, not guarantees. They're part of the solution, not the entire answer. My pills couldn't overcome years of accumulated damage, couldn't compensate for the lifestyle choices I'd made, couldn't reverse the silent progression of disease that was quietly strangling my arteries.
While I was taking my daily medications and thinking I was safe, my cardiovascular system was staging a rebellion. The plaque was building. Arteries were narrowing. My heart was working overtime, and I had no idea.
Someone in the world dies from a heart attack every 1.8 seconds
and it is the number one killer of women.

There is a lot more to this story but you can see how your life as you once knew it can change in a "Heart Beat ' no pun intended.

After your life has changed forever comes the "Recovery" which is probable the hardest part of all because you are entering something you have never experienced before and it can be terrifying.

The good news though is once you get your head around what exactly has happened to your body you can adjust. Make no mistake there is no quick fix, it will take time. Your body is amazing and you'll be blown away at how good it is at repairing itself given the right conditions.

I talk to my heart now and tell it how sorry I am for abusing it for all those years. Take time to listen to your body and treat it with respect and it will respond by giving you a Healthy life.