Saying goodbye is hard to do!

After hearing the "official news" about Jeff Green I felt compelled to share my story. I am doing so in the hope that it will foster a better understanding of just what he is going through. Although our situations are different, the impact is the same (minus the millions of coarse).

I have always been a basketball junkie. From entire days and evenings spent at the boys club, to the playgrounds as an adolescent, to high school, through college, in my young adulthood and on into my forties. Running at least a few times a week, working diligently to map out life with my wife and kids around league nights and pick up games with my buddies . I imagine most of you can relate. A few years back I began to feel funny while playing, I chalked it up to age, dehydration, not eating right that day or just plain old fatigue from burning the candles at both ends. This went on for awhile, my heart would beat funny and then correct itself. It became so common I learned how to ignore it. Finally at the behest of my wife I went to get checked out by my local cardiologist. Everything came back normal. My heart was what they described as "structurally sound with no genetic abnormalities". I was having what they described as premature ventricular beats and short bursts of non-sustained tachycardia. I was reassured that this was more of a nuiscence than anything..."can't hurt you" they said. So I left reassured with a prescription for a small dose of a beta blocker to suppress these rhythms. I tried to take the meds but could not tolerate them. My heart rate was in the mid forties before the meds and they brought them down to dangerously low levels.

Over the next few years I learned to accept these hiicups and bursts in my heart as something I would just have to live with. After all I had seen the best doctors in my town and in Boston, all saying the same thing. Last winter I was playing in one of my league championship games. My son was front and center on the bench as usual, ball in hand waiting for a stoppage of play so he could dash onto the court and take a few shots. He was always with me when I would go play. The guys all know him and love him. It was by far the most natural thing that we would do together. I started to get that funny feeling near the end of regulation. It was a tough, back and forth, physical game. Everyone on the floor was reaching deep and tired, myself included. I stole the ball and went the length of the floor for a layup. When I turned to run back on defense everything started to close in on me. Sounds began to echo and run into each other, my vision went blurry and my legs felt like a bowl of jelly. The last thing I remember was looking at my son and seeing his face go from excitement to complete panick and fear. Those were the last things I remember before collapsing to the floor. Honestly, my last thought was that my son was going to watch me die. Then darkness.

When I came to I was disoriented but grateful to be alive. I found myself surrounded by the concerned faces of guys I had been playing with for years. Embarassed, my first words were "If I'm in heaven you are some ugly angels". It broke the tension but I was scared, very scared. The next few weeks were a whirlwind of tests...cardiac mri's, echocardiograms, ekg's, electrophysiology studies where they go into your heart with catheters and try and recreate bad rhythms to hospital stays. When it was all said and done I was diagnosed with what they believe is a rare genetic heart condition often brought on by those who live and lead and athletic lifestyle. This meaning that someone could have the genetic makeup for this and it never becomes a problem due to a life of moderate physical activity. They see it marathon runners, triathaletes and the like. In most cases it does not progress but can. The major issue with people who have my condition is reducing the onset of going into a bad rhythm like I did playing ball. It is the leading cause of sudden cardiac death in people under forty. I now sport an Implanted cardiac diffibrillator that protects me against that possibility. I am currently working on finding the right medication that I can tolerate well enough to not feel like Im having the life sucked out of me. I am a very positive and active person. I don't let much get me down. After all, I have a great deal to be greatful for. I have to say that one of the most difficult things to process in all of this has been saying goodbye to playing the sport I love. How much I love it and how much I have leaned on it throughout my life was not clear to me until I was forced to walk away from it. It is time with my son, time to see my buddies, a way to stay in shape and young at heart, and something I am good at. How often to we get to let it all out like we do on the court. I am able to work out still but at a more pedestrian pace, which again I am grateful for. It should be easier for me to let this pass but it hasn't been. The past month I have watched my buddies start the old familiar pick up haunts and leagues...and I miss it terribly. More than I should. A basketball itch with no way to scratch it. Having said all of this I am aware of the difference between me and Jeff Green. I am what is hopefully obvious not trying to compare us in any other way but this...As a ham an egger who is about fifteen years past his prime, walking away from the game has been the single biggest transition in my life. If Jeff shares the love for it that many of us do, that love only true junkies really "get" , he is devastated right now. Not to mention this is his livelihood and by all indications he is a hard worker. I am now officially a Jeff Green fan. I am rooting for him to get over the emotional hurdles that this type of thing can present. I am rooting for him to have the strength to get out of bed and move forward. I am rooting for him to realize that life sometimes does you...you don't do it. I am also rooting for Jeff that he understands how fortunate he is to have had this detected and treated. We would have that in common too. Get well Jeff!