Heart Failure & How My Business Thrived Without Me
To be honest, I never imagined being here. Heart failure at 45 was not something I saw coming. I gave up alcohol nearly seven years ago, don’t smoke, exercise regularly, and eat a balanced diet of good food. So having to talk about my end-of-life directives and what I wanted for a funeral wasn’t something I had prepared for.
For the past six months, I had been experiencing a racing heart and palpitations intermittently. I chalked it up to perimenopause and never got it checked. Usually, these episodes subsided within minutes. But on November 27th, as we were heading to bed, it happened again. This time, it didn’t go away.
I went to bed anyway, periodically checking my Apple Watch. It showed an unusually high heart rate for someone lying down. At one point, it indicated I was in AFIB. I thought, “How accurate are Apple Watches, really?” Turns out (according to one of the ER doctors), they’re very accurate.
At 3 a.m., I woke up dizzy, disoriented, and in a cold sweat. I tried to call for my husband but instead said my sister’s name and “Mom.” He thought I was sleep-talking (a lifelong habit of mine!) until I sputtered out, “heart attack.” He immediately called 911, helped me dress, and got me down the stairs.
The EMTs arrived quickly, hooked me up to their monitors, and told me not to move—my heart was on the verge of stopping. They carried me out to a stretcher and rushed me to the hospital.
When we arrived, it was a whirlwind. Emergency rooms have triage for a reason, and I was taken straight past everyone in the waiting room into trauma and resuscitation. They administered a drug to stop my heart and reset it into a normal rhythm. They warned me it would hurt like a bitch—and they weren’t wrong. But it didn’t work. So, they doubled the dose. Still, nothing.
At that point, the ER doctor came close to my face and said, “We have to shock your heart.” I replied, “Are you fucking kidding me? Like, with paddles? Are you going to yell ‘CLEAR’?” She confirmed they’d use adhesive pads instead of paddles and that they would intubate and sedate me. They were confident this would get me out of the dangerous rhythm I was in.
When I woke up, my throat was raw from the intubation, and my chest ached. The doctor told me, “It didn’t work.” They tried another drug and moved me out of trauma. In my new room, I saw my husband for the first time. But soon, my blood pressure bottomed out, and they rushed me back to trauma. Another drug stabilized my heart rate without crashing my blood pressure, but as soon as it wore off, my heart rate skyrocketed again.
They administered the “hurt like a bitch” drug again—this time at an even higher dose. It still didn’t work. Over the course of that night, they gave it to me a total of four times. Each time, I braced for the searing pain, only to be told that it had failed to stabilize my heart. It was surreal, and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
At this point, they discussed extraordinary measures with my husband. I couldn’t believe this was where we were.
They kept me stabilized with temporary measures and transferred me to the cardiac ICU. I asked my husband to call a leadership team member and inform her of what was happening. I needed her to handle everything coming my way for the next “few days,” not realizing those few days would turn into 10 nights in the cardiac ICU and another five on the cardiac ward.
Later that day, I was transferred to another hospital for an ablation and heart mapping. The doctors hoped to diagnose the issue since I was still in the cardiac event, now 15 hours in. During the procedure, they found severe inflammation and conduction issues. Touching an electrode to one part of my heart caused my heart rate to flatline, leading to a second intubation and the placement of a temporary pacemaker in my neck. I woke up in shock and remained under the care of a specialized team of cardiologists.
After numerous tests—including CT scans, angiograms, EKGs, bloodwork, IVs, an MRI, and a PET scan—the diagnosis began to come together. My condition is likely the result of either a genetic predisposition or a bacterial infection I contracted decades ago. The inflammation and conduction issues in my heart had been silently building over time, eventually reaching a critical point. I had had cardiac arrest – much more severe than a heart attack.
Eventually, we decided on a CRT-D—a specialized device for heart failure patients at high risk of sudden cardiac death. The CRT-D acts as a pacemaker and can deliver shocks to the heart in the form of defibrillation to prevent sudden death. It has three leads permanently connected to my heart and is implanted under the skin over my chest.
Through all of this, I found unexpected moments of joy.
I cherished every interaction with healthcare staff. These people are with us during our lowest moments, and they accepted my colorful language, incessant note-taking, and dark humor. One nurse, noticing I hadn’t watered the flowers in my room, joked, “You can’t even keep flowers alive—how the fuck are you going to keep yourself alive?” That dark humor was exactly what I needed.
I appreciated every meal, every doctor who took the time to explain my options, and even the hospital showers. My husband never left my side, helping me shower, eat, and walk when I was too weak to do so. Friends and family sent messages, visited, and took care of everything at home. Meals, snow-cleared driveways, Christmas baking, and even new clothes for my release arrived, ensuring I had everything I needed.
Meanwhile, my business didn’t just survive—it thrived.
Over the past year, we’ve invested heavily in systems and processes. No detail is too small for an SOP (standard operating procedure). We regularly audit systems, and everyone on the team has the autonomy to update processes as needed.
I stepped away from client work, focusing on strategy, while my team executed.
We eliminated redundancies, cross-trained team members for seamless coverage, and even began shadowing sales calls to prepare for the unexpected. Little did I know how crucial that would be.
When my health crisis hit, my team handled everything. They cleared my calendar, notified clients, and took over sales calls. And guess what? We signed new clients. Performance reviews happened. Payroll was on time. New clients were onboarded. The business didn’t just maintain—it grew.
The true test of a business is whether it can thrive without you as the business owner. Northern Primrose passed that test with flying colors.
Want your operations running so smoothly that your business thrives even when you’re out of the picture? Let’s talk.
