The chest pains started part way through Lagrima. Sooner or later, every student of classical guitar learns this beautiful prelude by Francisco Tárrega. The title in Spanish means Tears. I had returned to my guitar after many years of neglect, mostly as a way to help cope with my wife Heather’s recent diagnosis of advanced cancer. I had a lesson with my instructor the next day and was determined to show him some progress in my playing. But the pain in my chest would not go away. I thought perhaps I was holding the instrument funny and readjusted my position…worse. I took a few Tums….now I felt short of breath. Perhaps I should do something about it….

The events over the next few hours are a blur for me now but some of the things that I vividly remember are:

• Driving in the car to the hospital and running a red light at Fox Drive (“No Heather, we don’t need an ambulance, I think it is just bad heartburn..”)
• Wondering how I could convince the triage nurse in ER that I knew what I was talking about…. this is classic gastroesophageal reflux disease!
• Seeing the abnormal ECG and experiencing the dawning realization that I was actually having a heart attack
• Feeling the sting in my pride. Of all the things that could happen to me medically, I was convinced that heart disease was not one of them. I was diligent in my physical fitness and had none of the usually risk factors for angina (apart from a tiny amount of stress…)

Looking back on this now, I can see the obvious pattern of denial in my thinking. It took a heart attack for me to realize that denial was actually a big part of my coping strategy at that particular point in my life. For example, I was convinced that I needed to be the strong one, both for my wife and my family. I needed to be organized, clear headed and logical. The last thing my family needed was an emotional wet noodle…or so I thought.

In hindsight, I needed something dramatic to bring me to attention and snap me out of my tunnel vision. Sometimes God’s love comes to us like that – more like a stiff cuff on the side of the head rather than a sloppy wet kiss. Perhaps God was saying to me… give yourself permission to cry a few tears, rather than just playing a song about them…..