My heart is broken. But not the way you think I mean. It’s actually broken. Doctors call it heart failure, but since I’m not the type of person who likes to fail at anything, I’ll just say that it is broken. It’s permanent, though, and that’s the hardest thing for me to accept. My heart can no longer do the things it was born to do, and it never will again.
Back in September, I had a perfectly healthy heart. Nothing in the least bit wrong with it. No heart disease, no clogged arteries, not even high blood pressure. My heart was minding its own business, doing its job 24-7.
read more in www.nytimes.com