When Pride Becomes a Matter of Life and Death: The Shocking Truth Behind Embarrassment
I didn’t mention this explicitly to Caroline, but I think she knew. We spent a fair amount of time on Monday discussing the possibilities. We decided on three: I had a minor heart attack, I had a major heart attack, or I had an infection. What we left unspoken was the lost hope for a fourth possibility—that I was actually okay. That seemed impossible.
If it was a minor heart attack we would tell no one—not my family, my friends, or my coworkers. When people perceive you as broken they treat you differently, and there is no one I know—other than Caroline—who has earned that right.
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