There are many reasons why I worked so hard to recover after my heart attack.
But there is one person who has been beside me from the very first moment.
My wife, Clare.
The Longest Nine Minutes
On that fateful morning, it was Clare’s quick reaction that may well have saved my life.
She recognised that something was seriously wrong and called an ambulance immediately.
It took just nine minutes to arrive.
Nine minutes doesn’t sound very long.
But in Clare’s own words:
“It was the longest nine minutes of my life, potentially watching my husband and best friend fighting for his life.”
While I was dealing with what was happening to me, Clare was experiencing it from the other side — watching the person she loved suddenly become desperately ill and not knowing what was going to happen next.
She stayed by my bedside in hospital, and when I eventually came home, she was there for the next part of the journey too.
When I Came Home
In the early stages of my recovery, there were times when I was virtually bed-bound.
Clare brought my meals upstairs. She brought me endless cups of tea. She looked after me when many of the ordinary things I had always taken for granted suddenly became difficult.
When we went shopping, she carried my traffic-light card — the little card that helped me understand which foods were better choices while I was learning how to change my lifestyle.
They might sound like small things.
They weren’t.
They were part of rebuilding my life.
But there was something else Clare gave me without ever intending to.
The Look I Never Wanted to See Again
One of the strongest memories I have from that time isn’t something Clare said.
It was the look on her face.
Fear.
The sheer fear in her eyes as she thought she might be losing me.
I had spent my life believing I was strong and fearless, someone who could face whatever came my way. My heart attack suddenly made me feel vulnerable.
But seeing that fear in my wife’s eyes gave me something else.
Purpose.
I never wanted to see that look on Clare’s face again.
And that became one of the reasons I pushed myself so hard to recover.
Not simply to survive.
To live.
Getting Our Life Back
Recovery eventually stopped being about hospital appointments, medication, traffic-light cards and what I couldn’t do.
It became about everything we could do again.
Our weekends away.
Our holidays.
Our nights out.
The ordinary days together that you don’t always realise are extraordinary until something happens that threatens to take them away.
Then came my surprise 60th birthday party — another memory Clare helped create for me.
And last year she helped make one of my dreams come true by giving me the holiday of a lifetime in the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean.
Those are the moments I was fighting to get back to.
And they’re the reason I continue to work so hard today.
I don’t want simply to add years to my life.
I want more life in those years — with Clare beside me.
Fighting for the Right Reason
My heart attack damaged my heart.
Thankfully, physically, my heart recovered.
But it also taught me something far more important.
It showed me just how much I still had to live for.
And a huge part of that was the woman who recognised what was happening that morning, made the call that helped save my life, waited through the longest nine minutes imaginable, sat beside my hospital bed, cared for me when I came home and then walked beside me as we got our life back.
Clare wasn’t simply there during my recovery.
She was one of my biggest reasons to recover.
And everything I did, I did it for you.
The reason I pushed myself so hard.
And even after 35 years of marriage,
you’re still the one.
Thank you, Clare.