My first episode caught me completely off guard on a Sunday morning in 2014. I was an active, healthy 35-year-old mother of 3. It felt like what I imagined having a heart attack would feel like. After a minute or two it stopped as suddenly as it had started and I got out of bed to start my day, I had experienced palpitations before and brushed it off as a once off.

I had about 8 more episodes before lunch time and made a deal with myself that if it continued, I would call an ambulance. I was a busy mum and didn’t want to be ‘dramatic’! It resolved by 2 p.m.

When I was 39, with zero risk factors for heart disease, I had all the classic symptoms associated with a heart attack. My doctors put me on three blood thinners to dissolve a clot in a minor artery seen in an angiogram. The next day, while the original clot had dissolved, I had a clot in a larger artery. Baffled, the cardiologists put in a stent. As they backed the scope out of the artery, it spasmed in another location.

At that time, I had a 4-year-old, an 8-year-old, and a 12-year-old. My husband traveled extensively for work. I asked myself two questions: 1) How do I feel about dying at age 39? 2) If I don’t die, how do I live?

I consider myself one of the lucky ones.

I was a runner, triathlete, skier, scuba diver, etc. before my problems got severe enough to seek medical help.

Most doctors took my health decline seriously from the start.

Later, it was not uncommon for doctors who were unaware of my athletic endeavours to assume my subsequent lack of fitness was the cause of my condition rather than the result.