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I Believe It. I Need You to Believe It.

I Believe It. I Need You to Believe It.

by | Apr 10, 2026 | Belief, Brain Injury, Doctor Visits, Medical Tests, Neurological 🧠

"Past performance is not indicative of future results” is good news for anyone facing a major life setback.

Any advertisement you see for an investment firm includes the required disclaimer, “Past performance is not indicative of future results.” They are legally required by the Securities and Exchange Commission to let you know not to base your buying decisions on past events. In the unlikely event a certain stock may have doubled every year for the past 10 years, even then, there is no guarantee you will enjoy the same results.

What does this have to do with your present situation? Everything. That statement is often viewed negatively. In other words, don’t get your hopes up too high. However, “past performance is not indicative of future results” is good news for anyone facing a major life setback.

Everyone has experienced a major setback. Whether it was a job loss, divorce, financial crisis, or health condition, we all face them. If you live long enough, hopefully you can look back and see that you eventually overcame what was once an impossible hurdle, or that the impossible ended up working out in the end. It never feels that way when you’re going through it.

Believing

My neurologist looked at me and said, “You’re going to get better!"

Disbelieving, I said, “How do you know that?”

He said words that have stuck with me since: “I believe it. I need you to believe it."

After I suffered anoxic brain injury from cardiac arrest, a neurologist explained how my recovery might look. He said in years past, expert neurologists believed that whatever state of improvement a person gained in the six months after a brain injury was considered their baseline. Their progress after a year was their maximum possible improvement. There was good reason to believe that. Back then, those beliefs were based on existing brain research and patient outcomes.

On my first visit to my neurologist, I was not in a good place, mentally, emotionally, physically. I had been struggling for two years with symptoms I didn’t understand and couldn’t stop. I explained to my neurologist how a previous doctor told me I reached my limit. There could be no more improvement.

My neurologist looked at me and said, “That's a terrible diagnosis. You’re going to get better."

Disbelieving, I said, “How do you know that?”

He said words that have stuck with me since: “I believe it. I need you to believe it. When you believe it, your brain will put itself in a position to heal, and it will begin to heal.”

My doctor said the outdated research and old beliefs were proven false. Why? Because of neuroplasticity. The word has become more well-known because of better research and verified patient outcomes.

“Neuroplasticity, also referred to as brain plasticity, means that every time you learn something new… your brain physically changes—it upgrades its hardware to reflect a new level of the mind. Neuroplasticity helps explain how anything is possible.” 1

I had struggled for two years. It felt like failure every day. I didn’t understand my symptoms, know how to overcome them, or even manage them.

Past performance is not indicative of future results. Our brain’s ability to create new neuropathways means my future isn't cemented with today's status. I can change. I can grow. So can you.

A couple of years ago, I was sitting in the emergency department waiting room with a relative. I was glad I wasn’t the patient that time. Like most hospitals, the waiting room had multiple areas and an empty seat was difficult to find.

I was sitting near the admitting desk, so I watched three people walk in, distressed. An older woman’s husband was taken there by ambulance and arrived just minutes earlier. Apparently, he was at home feeling just fine, and then he wasn’t. The woman’s young adult daughter was crying and near hysterical. Her boyfriend was with her, and he didn’t say much.

An hour after they sat down, near me, a nurse came out and said they could see their husband and father, but not for a while. It was unclear if he would ever function again, or even recognize is family. More tears followed.

After the nurse left, I felt compelled to talk to that family. Some people wouldn’t want to be bothered, understandably. That wasn’t the case with this family. I learned that their family member either had a stroke or heart attack. It was still unclear. He was unconscious for quite some time. The daughter was attending college in Germany and came back to visit her family and introduce them to her new boyfriend. He knew very little English.

I briefly shared my story with the family. The point was that, when they finally would be able to see their husband and father, he likely wouldn’t look good. In fact, things might look grim. I challenged them not to judge his future by what they would see in the following moments.

We all need to remain hopeful for one thing or another. As Winston Churchill famously said, “If you're going through hell, keep going.” When you’re going through it, the easiest and most common thing to do is to believe that is how things will always be.

Your situation can change for the better. Thanks to your brain’s ability to change, anything is possible.

I believe it. I need you to believe it.

The Relief and Grief of a Medical Diagnosis

The Relief and Grief of a Medical Diagnosis

by | Mar 26, 2026 | Brain Injury, Cardiac Arrest ❤️, Doctor Visits, Healthcare, Medical Tests, Neurological 🧠

After two years of frustrating symptoms, I finally had an answer. That answer came with conflicting emotions battling in my mind. Any given day had a different winner​.

A short time following cardiac arrest, I started to experience symptoms that became more frequent, and more defined. What I mean is that I didn’t just have a general sense of not feeling well. I felt dizziness every day that, at times, the severity had me reaching for the nearest wall or chair for balance.

My level of fatigue was—and still is—severe. Since it was only a few months after cardiac arrest, my cardiologist assured me this wasn’t uncommon. No matter what I said or how I explained the severity of my symptoms, his answer was always the same: “Cardiac arrest is traumatic. Not just emotionally, but to your entire body. It will take time for your body to recover.”

To be fair, a specialized cardiologist is concerned with your heart and all things related. It doesn’t mean he or she isn’t concerned with your other conditions. It would be unethical and bad medicine for a cardiologist to attempt a neurological diagnosis. More commonly, a cardiologist may share his opinion but would refer you to a neurologist. Plus, I’ve learned that symptoms like fatigue and dizziness can be caused from dozens, maybe hundreds, of factors.

More than a year later, there was no improvement or recovery in sight. Dizziness is a well-documented symptom post-cardiac arrest. I didn’t know that back then. It’s caused from anoxia—complete lack of oxygen to the brain—or hypoxia, which is not enough oxygen to the brain. However, my mix of symptoms went undiagnosed for close to two years.

Two Long Years

Two years later, I finally had an answer, but that answer meant I had another medical condition. There is both relief and grief when you get a medical diagnosis.

I don’t read much news for many reasons. One of them is that I need to choose where I put my mental energy, and news is too draining. However, one day I was skimming news and saw a headline that read: You look fine. Your doctor is stumped. But this disorder is leaving millions 'a hot mess.’

I had been frustrated with symptoms and had no improvement for nearly two years. My symptoms precisely matched what the article discussed. If I ever felt validated, it was then. One of the neurologists quoted in the article eventually became my neurologist, and for that, I’m deeply grateful.

After several tests, I was diagnosed with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Cleveland Clinic explains that “POTS… causes numerous symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue.”

Two years later, I finally had an answer, but that answer meant I had another medical condition. There is both relief and grief when you get a medical diagnosis. I felt relief because there was an explanation for my symptoms, and I could learn to manage them—and maybe feel better. I felt grief because that meant having yet another medical condition to manage that will likely never go away. That impacts my quality of life. Like many neurological disorders, there isn’t necessarily a cure, but there are ways to manage symptoms. The conflicting emotions can feel like a massive battle in your mind: validated, disappointed, relieved, hopeful, frustrated, angry, hopeful again. That inner battle can feel exhausting, as if there is only one correct emotion.

There is no correct feeling, although some are healthier and more beneficial than others. I’ve learned that I had to work through—struggle through—that range of emotions. That process of struggle allowed me to come to a place where, after a diagnosis, I could feel thankful and hopeful. That doesn’t happen instantly.

Challenges like these feel like pushing a large rock up an icy hill. Every so often, it feels like a losing battle. No one in their right mind wants to be diagnosed with a medical condition. Yet, it feels relieving to get that diagnosis. It validates you. You’re not imagining symptoms. You’re not crazy.

I’m thankful for my doctor who put me on the right path, and educated me on how to manage my symptoms. If there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that good healthcare isn’t only based on having a good doctor. Part of good healthcare depends on you, the patient. Good doctors are key, but it’s up to you to ask questions, communicate honestly with your doctor, and do the work they tell you to do. Equally important is having the attitude where you do not give up.

Managing symptoms is my responsibility. To reduce POTS symptoms, I’m on a high sodium diet. I sometimes wear compression socks. I need to stand up slowly if I’ve been sitting for a while until I feel steady.

Annoying? Yes. Empowering? Also yes.

The average time it takes to get an accurate diagnosis of POTS is seven years. I’m thankful my time was about two years. Whatever you’re facing, don’t give up, and do what you can to move forward, even if you take small steps as you have the energy​.

It can feel like the answer is out there somewhere, far from you. You might find that part of the answer is within you: your drive to overcome.

Dozens of Doctors and Nurses Repeated this Secret Advice to Me—Word for Word

Dozens of Doctors and Nurses Repeated this Secret Advice to Me—Word for Word

by | Mar 25, 2026 | Cardiac Arrest ❤️, Health Insurance, Healthcare, Medical Tests

I survived cardiac arrest in January 2018. Full disclosure: I survived a health insurance denial in January 2018.

I’ve previously shared how I had cardiac arrest after my usual run on a warm day in January. I wasn’t breathing for 11 minutes, and that’s just the first time around. I’ve been asked about my lifestyle numerous times by doctors and nurses.

Did I smoke? Never.

Take drugs? Never.

Have high blood pressure? No.

Drink alcohol? No.

Eat healthy? Yes.

Exercise? Yes, I’m a runner.

They said it’s shocking that I had cardiac arrest.

What led up to that day is equally shocking. What happened after is beyond words.

Across America, more people have become aware of how health insurance companies routinely deny coverage for their policyholders. These aren’t rare instances, it’s part of their system to put profit over patients.

Important note: policyholders are also patients.

So health insurance companies are denying—sometimes lifesaving—care to patients.

On top of fighting sickness and disease, patients have to battle their health insurance companies. These are the companies that claim to be your partner in health.

Here’s the advice

“I don’t believe in lying, but the healthcare system is corrupt. The next time you have a concern about your heart, don’t wait for an authorization from your health insurance company. You will die waiting.

Instead, when you have a free day, go to the best Emergency Department near you. Walk in and say, ‘I’ve had pressure in my chest for two weeks, and it’s severe. Now, that pain is radiating in my jaw and down my left arm.’

You will get the medical attention you need and deserve.”

If this didn’t happen to me, I wouldn’t believe it. One of my doctors ordered a test. To be clear, this was after I survived cardiac arrest. I already had over three years of documented medical conditions, such as anoxic brain injury, cognitive impairment, movement disorders, communication disorders and other neurological disorders. My health insurance company paid for most of these claims after a fight, so it was aware of the magnitude of my health conditions.

After my doctor ordered the test, I received a denial letter from my health insurance company. The denial letter started with, “…because you do not have any serious health conditions…” Really? I called a rep assigned to me at the health insurance company. To say I was angry is an understatement. I asked if cardiac arrest didn’t qualify as a “serious health condition,” what did, decapitation?

Doctors and nurses in different hospital systems and practices gave me the same advice. Each person was sure to share it when no other people were in the room—just me and the provider.

Here’s the advice: “I don’t believe in lying, but the healthcare system is corrupt. The next time you have a concern about your heart, don’t wait for an authorization from your health insurance company. You will die waiting. Instead, when you have a free day, go to the best Emergency Department near you. Walk in and say, ‘I’ve had pressure in my chest for two weeks, and it’s severe. Now, that pain is radiating in my jaw and down my left arm.’ You will get the medical attention you need and deserve.”

Is that what it takes to get medical care?

It’s conservative to say I’ve heard that advice dozens and dozens of times with little variation.

I know how health insurance companies operate. You know it. Doctors know it. Doctors have their workloads multiplied because they have to justify every test they order and every pill they prescribe. Patients are the ones who suffer delayed healthcare, which results in poor healthcare, because of it.

I was taken by ambulance to the emergency department cath lab (cardiac catheterization laboratory) the day I had cardiac arrest. So I appreciate people going to urgent care for a sprained ankle rather than clogging up the emergency department. Every second counts when your heart just stopped. Yet, our current healthcare system leaves many people with little choice but to go to the emergency department and do their best acting job when they need care.

To be transparent, I had to work through quite a bit of anger in my health journey. Anger isn’t healthy, and it doesn’t help anyone. Anger alone doesn’t bring change.

If you have a serious health concern, my suggestion is to do whatever you need to do so you can live. I also suggest you fight back. It is not impossible to win against your health insurance company. That’s what they want you to believe. Your health insurance company is hoping to wear you out. Don’t let that happen. Your life may depend on it.

Health Issues aren’t My Identity. They are My Reality.

Health Issues aren’t My Identity. They are My Reality.

by | Mar 25, 2026 | Cardiac Arrest ❤️, Doctor Visits, Health Insurance, Medical Tests, Medications, Neurological 🧠

It can be challenging to live what people consider a normal life when you get reminders every day, throughout the day, that you live with numerous health conditions.

We all know that person—the one you avoid asking, “How are you?” You don’t ask because you know their response will be much more than you wanted. Did you want the details of their latest blood work? Or hear about their recent knee injury? Want to listen to their frustration over sitting for hours in waiting rooms? Did you know they were prescribed yet another medication?

No one wants to be around that person. For emotionally healthy people, no one wants to be that person either. After cardiac arrest, I found out first hand how easy it is to become that person.

As someone who has seen over 45 doctors and medical providers in just over eight years, I can say from experience—it’s hard to escape.

I read an insightful article in Psychology Today, 4 Illness Identity States and How to Work With Them, by Katie Willard Virant MSW, JD, LCSW. It shows how chronic illness can affect one’s identity and self perception. They are: Rejection, Engulfment, Acceptance, and Enrichment.

Ultimately, enrichment is the ideal identity state to have. You’ve seen war veterans or professional athletes who have experienced a tragic accident. Many of them, after much hard work, use that illness to inspire others to greatness. None of us can imagine what it took for them to overcome the impossible, only to turn around and encourage others with less tragic lives, for the most part.

I’m thankful to have doctors who are passionate about their work, and deliver genuine care to me because of that. I shared that article with one of my doctors. He further explained that people with chronic illness have a primary illness identity state, but we also move from one to the other. That can be based on circumstances, changing health status, and even our mood.

I have numerous health conditions that have various symptoms, so I get reminded of them every day. As a fellow cardiac arrest survivor and friend put it, the moment you survived cardiac arrest was as if someone handed you luggage you didn’t ask for. You have to carry it around with you the rest of your life, every day, all day. No one can carry it for you, and you can’t skip a day​.

Many of my doctors find it amazing that despite not breathing for 11 minutes, I can still drive and I can feed myself. Do I sometimes drop my fork? Frequently. Do I sometimes knock over my glass instead of picking it up? Too often. Do I stub my toes or crack my elbows from running into walls or furniture in my house? More times than I can count. Those are friendly reminders of my health.

Everyone stubs a toe occasionally, or bumps into furniture. I have balance and coordination issues, plus movement disorders and dizziness. Cracking my elbow through a doorway in my home hasn’t happened just a few times. It’s a matter of how frequently. I’ve gone for several rounds of neurological and occupational therapy, and it’s helped me to function better. I’m grateful for it.

Each doctor, therapist, or provider tells me up front they want to set expectations. That means therapy will almost definitely help me improve from my current state. It also means I must acknowledge that I will never be back to what I was before a brain injury. So each doctor and therapist are very hopeful, and also realistic.

Practically speaking, that means potentially I may spill things less often, trip less often, and remember to get a fork instead of a spoon to eat eggs at breakfast. That also means I still do those things. I can’t avoid them.

Managing chronic health conditions can feel like a part-time job. It’s not just the symptoms. Any given day might include: scheduling follow-up doctor appointments; rescheduling appointments that were cancelled by the doctor; ordering medications on schedule so I don’t run out; battling, when necessary, my health insurance company to pay for prescribed medications, tests and therapies ordered by specialists; doing therapy exercises at home consistently; and refilling medication pill boxes, trying not to be confused why a pill that was always rectangular and yellow is now white and round.

Do I want to talk about these issues with every acquaintance I see in public? No. People love and care about me, and I find that humbling. So people do ask me how I’m doing, and their concern is sincere. How do I answer that? I’m fine? I’m not. Today I spilled coffee on myself, and I hurt my knee again. Nobody wants to hear that, and I got tired of hearing myself say it.

Anyone living with neurological disorders or other chronic conditions would rather not dwell on those things. We wish to live life just like others do. In fact, not being able to live life just like others do is part of the frustration, discouragement, and struggle of carrying that luggage I didn’t ask for. I don’t wake up thinking about my symptoms. I just get reminded of them within the first 15 minutes of my day.

Has illness ever been my identity? I’d like to think not, but those around me could answer objectively. At the least, I’ve jumped in the water of illness engulfment—not for desire, pity or enjoyment, but because it’s challenging to escape.

Is illness my identity? No.

Is it my reality? Yes.

I’ve chosen to make a deliberate, frequent evaluation of my identity when it comes to chronic illness. That choice is because I felt engulfed too many times. These days, when someone asks how I’m doing, my response depends on the relationship. To some people, my response is, “I’m fine.” To others, I say, “It’s rough, but I’m taking steps forward. Thanks for asking.”