Nine months ago, on March 14, 2024 (National Pi Day, to be exact), something happened to me that didn’t make sense No matter how many highly trained, world-renowned doctors at the Cleveland Clinic diagnosed and treated me, they still can’t explain exactly why what happened to me, happened.

I eat mostly a well-balanced diet, drink occasionally, and work out like a maniac. When I wasn’t on a tennis court, I was at an Orangetheory class or going for a run. I did this to stay healthy and be a stronger tennis player. And the thing is, it helped; my USTA team won the 4.5 National Championship in October 2023. I’ve had many athletic accomplishments throughout my life, but being part of a championship team where I contributed to every match at the age of 40 is something I’m especially proud of. I mention this to help explain my confusion about why the events unfolded the way they did later on March 14th.

I headed to the gym to squeeze in a quick run before dinner with two of my girlfriends. About twenty minutes into my run, I started feeling strange. I stopped the treadmill, and suddenly I was short of breath and dizzy. I ran to the front desk, struggling to get the word ‘HELP’ out to them. They sat me down, gave me a Gatorade and I finally caught my breath. My back felt tight, my legs shook, and my hands were freezing. After another 20 minutes in the locker room, I decided to cancel dinner because I wasn’t getting better, if anything I was feeling worse. After describing my symptoms to my best friend over a phone call, she immediately drove to the gym and took me to the ED. There they weighed me, took my HR/blood pressure, and suddenly 7 medical professionals were in the room, telling me that my resting HR was at 248. They gave me oxygen, an IV, and three rounds of adenosine and my heart was not budging. The next conclusion was to cardiovert me. Of course, I fought them saying there’s no way that’s the solution to this situation, after all, I could breathe fine and my BP was stable. The nurse gently told me that if I were her sister, this is the decision she would make.

My HR went back to normal (typically my resting was 45-48) and I was admitted for 5 days for testing. And just like that, poof!, my active life as I once knew it was gone without a trace. I was diagnosed with ARVC, which explains why the adenosine didn’t work, it slowed down the atrium, not the ventricles. I wore a life vest for 5 months (hello backne!), I had an 8-hour ablation, and finally, an S-ICD implanted. These were just the major events—I was constantly in and out of the hospital for countless bloodwork, MRI, and other tests before, during, and after everything.

As a kid who grew up loving sports in Pittsburgh, we always made fun of Cleveland. I’ve lived in Cleveland for over twenty years now and I will never make it the butt of any joke again! I’ve been fortunate to have some of the best doctors in the world, and I truly hope you find yourself under the care of doctors who create treatment plans for you, including ongoing management, procedures, and medications tailored to your needs. The physical aspect can be scary and difficult, but I, like many others, face another challenge: the mental toll it takes on us. After the first incident at the gym, I was in big-time denial. I played casual tennis twice, and the second time, just hitting cross-court forehands with minimal movement triggered alarms on my vest after 7 minutes, showing a maximum heart rate of 300. I was rushed to the ER again, and this time it hit me—that I most certainly have heart disease. And it became overwhelming.

The disease consumes you. Even when I think it’s the last thing on my mind, out of nowhere, I would start crying. And you feel guilty and selfish for feeling sad because you’re alive, thinking that others didn’t make it… or that others have gone through much worse. I’ve had people tell me that I’m lucky to be here, but I feel unlucky that any of it happened at all. I have learned that dwelling on it doesn’t help. The past nine months have felt more like nine years—time moves so slowly when you don’t feel like yourself. This isn’t meant to sound negative; it’s to help you understand that feeling this way is completely normal. As time moves on, I no longer have bad days—just the occasional tough moment. I’d like to share little things that have helped me so far.

My family and friends have been a huge part of my healing journey. Any support that yours gives you, even if it’s not always helpful, still comes from a place of love. If they had questions, I’d write them down and ask my doctors. With everything feeling so overwhelming at times, their questions are important because sometimes they can see things more clearly than I could.

I am a part of a few Facebook support groups and I follow patient support accounts on Instagram. Their stories have given me insight and anytime I have a question, I post it. This isn’t meant to seek medical advice, but rather to share and learn from others’ experiences. I have been so touched by everyone in the SADS community and their willingness to reach out. @heartcharged on Instagram called and talked to me for an hour about my thoughts, fears, and expectations of having my S-ICD implantation. She even gave me a list of items I would need to prepare me for my recovery. Her kindness inspired me to document my implant recovery day by day should it help you.

I see a therapist now. While I have my family and friends to lean on, I find it important to give them a break and receive support from a professional avenue.

The drugs that I was reluctant and mad I once had to take now have a more positive impact on me. I feel much better and safer with them in my system. I swallowed my pride (ha!) and take them to avoid ventricular tachycardiac events and stay healthy, regardless of some uncomfortable side effects I experienced in the beginning.

I walk a lot. I find it meditative, and fun, and sometimes I even feel spent! It’s an activity I can do alone or with my husband and friends while getting some steps in, I know how good it is to move.

I’m still working on adopting my new activities. I will start pilates soon, maybe some low-impact dance classes, and I’ll support all of my tennis friends in their upcoming seasons. Initially, I thought because I can’t play competitively, I’d be out of the tennis community. I was quickly proven wrong—these relationships go beyond the tennis court, and I’m so lucky to have found such great people. The contacts I have made from tennis ultimately helped me also get connected in the medical community. You never know who you’ll meet by joining groups, so stay active!

I received my genetic test results in June, and while they found a variant of an ARVC pathogenic gene, the results are still inconclusive. To me, Pi Day—like the number—felt irrational and showed no pattern in my family history, yet I survived it. I am learning to live my life differently while still finding ways to feel fulfilled and happy.

If you have any questions on your journey or just want/need to talk, please contact me through my Instagram, @laurney13. I’d love to help and I know you can help me too 🙂