HEART ATTACK
I was suddenly seized by a body-clenching pain. Deep down I knew instantly that it was a heart attack, a massive heart attack. It was something I had never experienced before, something that literally took my breath away. An iron bar was crushing my chest, forcing every last gasp of air out of me. Each time I tried to breathe in, a shock-wave of pain flooded through every sinew in my being. 
I sank to my knees, clutching my upper body with both hands to alleviate the burning sensation that was raging inside me. The pain eased marginally as soon as I stopped moving. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I should do next. But I was out of ideas. I thought that it was the end.
That episode had occurred at six o’clock in the morning a few days ago. I had just left the Montenubio Embassy where I’d been sent by the management of Infinity to cover as night porter for a staff member who had taken a day’s leave to attend his sister’s wedding. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred all night. I finished my shift and was walking home when my body had without warning been contorted in agony.
I had not led a sheltered life. I’d suffered physically on occasions. I’d had the usual knocks and bangs like most people who aren’t part of the privileged elite. But this was different. This was a pain that was all-consuming. In a few seconds it had reduced me to a quivering wreck. I lost all sense of self-respect. The pressure inside me was so intense that I finished up crawling on my hands and knees to a dark corner behind a refuse bin where I lay motionless, silently moaning. I felt as if my chest was being inflated like a giant balloon that was about to explode. My entire body was being stretched and pulled into grotesque and unnatural shapes by a malignant power that was intent on destroying me from the inside out. The pain was relentless, pitiless. I understood for the first time what it meant to be tortured.
I discovered subsequently that I was extremely lucky not to have died from a heart attack of this magnitude. I finished up in an Accident & Emergency Centre at the local hospital and they were quick to recognise the symptoms. They carried out the usual tests. The results confirmed that although my heart itself was in reasonable shape, I was suffering from widespread coronary heart disease. The significant narrowing of my arteries was a high-risk factor and could potentially be fatal in the medium term.
My employers weren’t very sympathetic. They were confident that they could replace me quite easily, given the high unemployment rate in Globopolis. They were also quick to recognise that my heart attack was a gift from the Gods, an unexpected opportunity to rid themselves of an employee who was on the Deviants List.
Fortunately, Max intervened on my behalf. He pulled a few strings and smoothed things over, ensuring that I could return to my job when I had recovered. Not only that, he arranged for me to have access to state-of-the art medical treatment for the blockages in my arteries that had been the root cause of the incident.
Max never ceases to amaze me. I became aware later that he is a close friend of Sir John Augustus Tufty, the leading heart surgeon in Globopolis. Tufty had pioneered an innovative artery descaling technique that was revolutionising cardiovascular medicine.
Within days, I was being wheeled down a hospital corridor on my way to an encounter with the eminent surgeon. I remember the expression on the face of the doctor who injected anaesthetic into my body in preparation for the operation. It was a strange look. He was naturally very understanding and supportive. Yet, I sensed that he was wondering whether I would emerge successfully from this radically new surgical intervention. It’s a strange sensation as you drift into unconsciousness not knowing for sure whether you will be returning to the land of the living.
Six hours later, I woke up in a convalescing room, just one of a dozen or so patients recovering from surgery. I had survived. I looked around me and spent some time watching two nurses tending diligently and silently to the patients in their care. Every few minutes or so, they would check pulse rates and blood pressure readings. There was a quiet efficiency in this room which reassured me. I had after all returned to life. Tufty had done his job.
I wasted no time in thanking Max. He smiled and just said: `Tufty owed me a favour. That’s how the world works Zeb. It’s all about favours.’
He looked me directly in the eye before adding: `Make the most of a second chance. You almost didn’t make it. A heart attack is a deadly killer. The one thing I’ve learned from Tufty is this: the most valuable thing you possess is your body – don’t spend your life destroying it. If you treat it properly, it will take care of itself. It will repair itself naturally. But if you go out of your way to abuse it with junk food, you’re certain to reap a whirlwind when you’re older. If you don’t want to die before your time, Zeb, eat the right food. Don’t fill your body with garbage. Your body is precious. Respect it.’
I now pay much more attention to what I eat.
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