August 28, 2024, was one of those days that caught me off guard. It began like any other with my routine uphill run, my 44th consecutive day at it. But something had felt off for a while—shortness of breath, a lingering weakness that wasn’t part of the usual exertion. My GP, Dr Cinzia, had wisely sent me for a battery of tests, and by the time I saw the cardiologist in Piano di Coreglia, the news wasn’t great. My heart wasn’t functioning as it should be.
The ECG showed irregularities—a leaky tricuspid valve, delays on the right side of my heart. The GP’s immediate text was clear: I needed to head to Castelnuovo Hospital’s Emergency Department. It was surreal. One moment I was enjoying lunch, overhearing an Englishman trying to convince an Italian of the virtues of Brexit and Trumpism, and the next, I was preparing to get my heart checked in a hospital that looked like a sanatorium out of a movie.
I walked in, expecting perhaps some sympathetic smiles from fellow expats who saw me as a picture of health, an avid runner. But when I explained that I was there for heart issues, their jaws dropped. It was a reminder that appearances aren’t always what they seem. After a round of tests—more ECGs, blood work, X-rays—I found myself in a side room, waiting.
Sitting in a wheelchair for the first time after having just been on a mountain run was sobering. Here I was, facing an undeniable truth: I was vulnerable. It was a far cry from the days spent trekking across Argentina or battling jet lag in India. Yet, through it all, I couldn’t help but reflect on the small blessings—how efficient the Italian healthcare system is compared to the NHS. In moments like these, you realise you’ve made some good life choices, like leaving England for Italy.
Still, I wasn’t about to wallow in self-pity. Sure, life had thrown a curveball, but that’s the nature of life, isn’t it? It twists and turns, and sometimes, all we can do is ride the wave and adapt. I was admitted for overnight monitoring. Debora, my lifesaver, rushed over with my essentials—chargers, clothes, toothbrush—ensuring I’d be comfortable. Geetha and friends from around the world texted, offering encouragement and love. It was a reminder that even in moments of solitude, we’re never truly alone.
The night passed in a blur of reflections. My lawyer’s mind kicked in—I needed to draft a will pronto. I wasn’t getting any younger, and procrastination wasn’t going to protect me from the inevitable. But more than that, I realised that life—our greatest gift—demands resilience.
Setbacks will come, whether in the form of health issues or something else. But that doesn’t mean we stop. We adjust, we recalibrate, and most importantly, we keep going. I’ve always believed in facing adversity head-on, whether in the courtroom or on a treacherous hiking trail in Patagonia. It’s not the obstacle that defines us, but how we choose to respond to it.
As the hospital stay stretched into the night, I tuned into Coronation Street, a show I’ve followed since 1973. It was a comforting escape from the harsh reality of medical charts and slow heartbeats. But even in that moment of escape, my mind wandered back to the essentials of life: how, even in this hospital room, my spirit remained unbroken.
The next morning, with my heart still monitored by Wi-Fi-linked devices, I was eager to get back to San Romano, to feel the fresh mountain air and to challenge myself once more. I imagined hopping back into my car and daring the universe to stop me from running again.
But maybe not right away—no wild leaps while on blood thinners. I’m reckless but not stupid after all.
Life has a funny way of reminding us of our mortality, but it doesn’t mean we have to retreat into a shell. I’m not planning to wrap myself in bubble wrap. My advice? Stay informed, engage with your health, and trust that setbacks are just a part of the journey. Whether it’s learning from doctors or debating life’s big questions with friends, the key is to stay active in the dialogue.
It’s easy to let illness or adversity define you, but why should it? There’s so much life to live—so many adventures left to embark on, even if they’re a bit slower-paced. My journey may now include more mindful decisions, like taking my time with household chores, learning a new language, or jogging up hills instead of running up them.
But that’s life, isn’t it? Full of surprises, some pleasant and some challenging. And as long as we face them with an open mind and an indomitable spirit, nothing—not even a leaky valve—can truly hold us back.
Life goes on.
