“I wasn’t afraid of the pain. I was afraid of leaving before I was done living.”

Yesterday was the scariest moment of my life.

It started the night before. A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Uncomfortable, but still bearable. I told myself it was nothing. I tried to sleep through it.

At 4 a.m., everything changed.

I shifted my body, turning from my side onto my back, and suddenly, the pain exploded. It wasn’t discomfort anymore. It was violence. If pain could tear, this felt like my chest was being ripped open. A ten out of ten doesn’t even come close.

I woke Rodney up screaming.

I’ve never heard my own voice sound like that before.

He called 000. The operator asked questions. So many questions. But my mind was already somewhere else. Running. Racing. Spiralling.

I held my husband’s hand so tightly. I was terrified I might need to let go.

What if this is it?

What if I’m not ready to go yet?

Have I done enough in this world?

What would I leave behind?

We had just celebrated our first wedding anniversary. One year. That’s nothing. I want more years. I want a long, messy, beautiful life with Rodney. I want more mornings, more trips, more conversations, more dreams that haven’t even formed yet.

I’m not ready.

Luckily, Tita was there. My PA, but honestly, she feels more like family now. My little sister. Rodney woke her up while I lay on the bed, wires everywhere, paramedics moving fast, attaching ECG leads to my chest.

Everything felt urgent and surreal.

I kept checking where Rodney was. I didn’t care about the machines. I just wanted his hand in mine. I was scared.

Non-urgent.

Not life-threatening.

Logically, that should have been comforting. Emotionally, it was hard.

We sat there for two hours, surrounded by other people who also needed help. Many of them had arrived by ambulance, too. I held my left chest the entire time as the stabbing pain came in waves. Tita stayed beside me quietly. Her presence mattered more than she probably knows.

A scary name for something that, thankfully, wasn’t my heart. Inflammation of the cartilage connecting the ribs to the breastbone. Musculoskeletal. Painful, yes. Terrifying, yes. But not life-ending.

I joked to myself that maybe I just need to go to Costco more.

But in that moment, I took the deepest breath I’d taken all day.

I’m still here.

This wasn’t the end. It was a reminder.

A reminder that my body needs care, not just my ambition. That life is fragile, even when we think we’re strong. That health is not something to “get to later.”

It also reminded me of something else.

When you’re loved deeply, you feel it most when you’re afraid. In the hands that hold yours. In the people who stay. In the quiet presence of those who don’t leave your side.

I still have a legacy to build. Stories to write. Love to give. Work to do. A life to live.

And now, I know more clearly than ever, that staying healthy is not optional. It’s a responsibility. To myself. And to the people who love me.

If there’s one thing I hope you take from this

Listen to your body before it has to scream.

Don’t postpone rest.

Don’t treat health like a reward after success.

And never assume you have unlimited time.

We don’t.

But today, I’m grateful I still have mine. 💛

-EG