Mike Papale – Wallingsford, CT – 17 at the time of the event (August 24, 2006)
I have no recollection of the day that changed my life forever. I’ll only be able to tell the stories that I’ve heard. People have told me to play the Lotto because there was a one in a million chance that I would survive. Although I’ve had many experiences that I will never forget, I will never remember the day that my 17-year-old body went into cardiac arrest.
That hot August morning was unremarkable—at first. I did my daily basketball workout before, and then went over to basketball camp to teach the younger kids the game of basketball. I arrived at the Parks and Recreation Department, where the camp was being held, and walked over to change my shirt. That is all I remember of the day that I “passed out.”
From what I’ve heard I was sitting down on a bench when I just slumped over onto my knees. My best friend, who was right next to me, said, “Come on Mike, stop playing around.” Little did he know it was no joke. My heart had a very irregular beat, and I had stopped breathing. The directors of the camp rushed all of the kids out of the gym and dialed 9-1-1. That was when my hero’s pager went off. Luckily, he was working right next door in a different building. He left work without anyone noticing and ran over to where I was. By the time he got to me, I had turned blue. He gave me CPR and helped revive me a little. I was then rushed to the nearest hospital, before the urgency of my condition forced a transfer to a better-equipped hospital. My parents rode in the front seat of the ambulance, not knowing if I was going to live. Just an hour earlier I was shooting three pointers and battling on the basketball court. At that moment, however, I was battling for my life. For the next three days, I was unaware of anything. The hospital revived me, but there were still questions of whether or not I would have brain damage.
Finally, I came back to terms and began to remember where I was and why I was there. I went through some uncomfortable tests, resulting in the diagnosis of Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy (HCM) or thickness of the tissue in my lower heart. After the tests, I thought I would resume my “old” life, with the exception of daily medication. I was right about the medicine and being fine, but the doctors delivered some crushing news. I would have an ICD, or an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, implanted in me and I would never be able to play competitive basketball again. At first, I didn’t understand why—basketball was a big part of my life. As time passed by, I began to accept the fact that I was going to have to change many parts of my life. I felt very fortunate to be alive.
I went in for surgery, which lasted four hours, but came back to some more bad news. The ICD, which is supposed to shock me if this ever happens again, did not completely work. In five days, I was scheduled for another surgery. This was a very hard time for me and my family, but we fought through it together. In the meantime, doctors all over the east coast were consulting about me and what needed to be done. I was taken off the medicine because they wanted to weaken my heart before the next surgery. I went into surgery thinking they were going to add another cord through my side. Twenty minutes later, the doctor went into the waiting room with the “thumbs up” sign to my parents. They retested the ICD twice and it worked perfectly both times. This meant no extra cord. Finally, we all had a feeling of relief.
From the stories I have been told, I am glad I don’t remember what happened that day. All I can do is thank God, my family, the special people who helped me get through this hard time and of course my “hero” who actually saved my life.
Soon I will be back in action, trying to protect others from going through what I endured. Although my heart caused an unexpected change in my future plans, it also led me to a career where my heart truly belongs.
- Mike Papale