Our lives were forever changed on a February morning in 2011.My partner of ten years, my closest companion, the dad of our three young sons, experienced a sudden cardiac arrest while resting in bed. He was only 41 years old fit, energetic, and apparently unbeatable. Only a month prior, he had successfully completed a comprehensive physical exam, including an EKG and a stress test. No signs had pointed to what was about to happen.
I woke to the alarming sound of him having trouble breathing. I recall the Unreal sensation enveloping mess this truly occurring?” “How can this be possible?” I was in the process of healing from back surgery, yet somehow, I succeeded in getting him to the ground and starting CPR, despite my lack of training. I watched in horror as the color drained from his face, first blue, then gray, and I prayed with every ounce of my being for God to keep him with us. I begged my husband to stay, not to abandon me and our boys.
I called 911 number and focused on their instructions. My sons walked in; he got confused and scared, so I quickly sent them back to their rooms. I can still hear their voices Asking, “what is the matter with Daddy?” Each moment felt prolonged. It seemed as though assistance was taking ages, but I eventually found out that the paramedics got there in three minutes. Just when my arms started to tire from compressions, they hurried in and took control.
At one moment, I shouted to the rescue workers, “Oh God, he just passed away.” At that moment, I genuinely realized his soul was departing from his body. A family friend employed in law enforcement showed up and took me to the hospital with sirens wailing. I remained seated, anxious, constantly thinking whether I would hear that he was passed away.
When I came, he was alive, yet unresponsive. A sigh of relief came to me, he is still present. He merely requires time to heal. That is what I said to myself. The staff in the emergency room asked many questions to me. Medications? Health concerns? Medications? Nothing. He consistently maintained a healthy lifestyle, eating properly, exercising every day, avoiding cigarettes, and sometimes enjoying a beer. He took only vitamins and omega 3 supplements. I shared all the information I had with them.
Next, they questioned me about his profession. He labored during the night. Did he take any energy drinks? Indeed, I replied one, perhaps two daily, Typically in the morning before work. The doctor’s attitude changed. He mentioned that these refreshments were probably responsible for the high sugar levels and potentially the uneven heartbeat that led to the arrest. Following testing indicated increased caffeine levels, supporting his hypothesis.
My partner was transferred to the cardiac Intensive Care Unit. The physicians began a therapeutic hypothermia protocol with the Arctic Sun, aiming to lower his body temperature to protect his brain function, then gradually increasing it over 72 hours. They claimed his heart was robust similar to that of a 25-year-old and could not comprehend how this occurred.
However, he remained asleep.
For a fortnight, my husband stayed unconscious. I kept our boys away from the hospital.I did not want them seeing their father suffering in that state. When they asked me about his return home, I answered truthfully: I had no idea. I wish he merely required additional time.
Ten days following his admission, I was informed that he was brain-dead. I need to choose between difficult options. Something in my heart told me to not share news with the boys on my eldest son’s birthday, so we made the most of the day Chuck E. Cheese, family, forces a smile through tears.
The following day, February 19, 2011, we visited the hospital to bid farewell. Nurses took out as many tubes as they could to make him appear less scary. My sons said farewell to their father. I held his hand, kissed him, and remained by his side until the very end. Thirty-one very painful minutes went by as I observed the life fade from the man I loved.
The pain was beyond words. Several days later, the physician reached out to express condolences. He mentioned that our story deeply touched the hospital personnel. I tell him that I found it hard to see how these energy drinks could be legal if they were so harmful. He stated that many fatalities are related to them, yet it is not required to report to the FDA. Most remain ignored unless the media covers them.
That is when the rage began. I began investigating and found out just how hazardous these beverages really are. Certain nations have prohibited them. Components such as Guarana contribute additional caffeine beyond what is stated. Maurine has been demonstrated to result in brain injury in laboratory animals. Certain sports leagues and the military even impose restrictions on energy drinks. Recent research indicates they can damage blood vessels, exacerbate PTSD symptoms, and replicate the effects of cocaine when combined with alcohol.
I started posting these discoveries online. Unknown individuals shared their own terrifying experiences—kidney failure, ulcers, arrhythmias, and others. A nurse working in a cardiac unit informed me that she frequently witnesses fatalities linked to energy drinks. Nonetheless, they are available for sale without caution labels, reachable to everyone children included.
More than ten years have passed. Our sons are now adolescents, and life has not become simpler. The sorrow is still fresh. Holidays, birthdays, and school occasions serve as ongoing reminders of what is lacking. A piece of me passed away alongside him that day.
However, if recounting our experience causes even a single individual to reconsider, if one life is preserved, then his passing had purpose. My spouse was an organ donor. He provided existence even when dying. And now, via this tale, I wish he kept doing that.
