Pumpusta otti/ottaa ihan tarpeeksi. Normaalisti järkyttävän nopea leposykkeeni kääntyi jostain syystä yöllä liian hitaaksi ja voi herra, että tuntuupa muuten brutaalilta.

(I might edit this text a bit tomorrow on Monday, as it might be too repetitive due to me not feeling well at the time of writing. I’ll mention right here if/once done.)

Phew. Stipe Miocic vs. Francis Ngannou… what a fight! It was such an exciting fight that after watching it, I needed to call an ambulance for myself.

Actually, I’m not kidding.

Since I’m trying to be honest with how it’s going… man, I don’t know. I’ll just describe the situation and leave it at that, because I don’t know what to think about this.

”Well that escalated quickly”

For the past few years, my resting pulse has usually been roughly somewhere between 80–125 beats per minute. I know, that’s high. I think the reason for this, besides me being extremely out of shape, is that something is going on with the good ol’ ticker. There’s some tendency for tachycardia from my dad’s side and a lot of other heart conditions from my mom’s side.

[Cue in the past months of severe stress and anxiety = lately my pulse and blood pressure have been on the higher end of the spectrum. Until today.]

In addition to the familiar feeling of pressure in my chest, last night I felt also such a sharp pain in the heart area, that I was too nervous to fall asleep.

I managed to stay awake all night and watch UFC 220 event live from Boston. I felt the chest pain increasing while watching the fights. Usually watching MMA, movies etc. distracts me from noticing the pressure I often have – which I’ve perhaps mistaken with having anxiety (not meaning that those two are totally indistinguishable.)

Feeling that something was not right, I checked my pulse, and was amazed to see the number being merely 42 beats per minute.

I’ve never, ever measured a pulse that low. Not even when I’ve been in relatively good shape. Blood pressure was 166/110. And boy, did I ”feel the difference.”

After twelve hours of almost-fainting, nausea, numb arms, cold sweat, being EXTREMELY out of breath while laying still, I still have a sharp pain in my chest and my left arm feels numb. At this moment, my pulse is 49 bpm (which is still insanely low for me), blood pressure 160/107, so I can write. But I feel dizzy.

Back to the beginning of the story. After the (absolutely intense!) UFC main event, I had to call an ambulance because I felt I might pass out. After the call, I messed up by taking beta blockers. The paramedics told me I needed to go and see a doctor for examinations, and that the beta blockers just prolonged my agony and that an elderly person would have probably collapsed. They checked the electrocardiogram and all seemed okay, so no point in going to the hospital until tomorrow.

Cardiac symptoms are not fun at all

So, I’m now in the aftermath of one of the most horrific experiences in my life, besides the two Ayahuasca sessions I’ve had (which were at the same time the best experiences, unlike this one). Goddamn it felt cold.

I don’t know, if I suffered a mild heart attack (the worst case scenario). I don’t know, if instead of a heart condition, it was ”just” a result of prolonged stress (the best case scenario). I don’t know, if I’ve lost my mind and imagined this condition and the symptoms for the past five years.

Whatever it is, it’s been stuck on for months and it’s been getting worse and worse.

Sensei Nipsu and Shogun Rua discussing techniques.

The extreme anxiety I’ve been having at the end of last year was due to a series of unfortunate events. Including taking my dad to the ER in an ambulance with a brain hemorrhage, and then getting manhandled by the hospital security thugs just because of my profession with medical marijuana, and the following months of watching my dad pass away, and on top of that having some emotional extra stress in my personal life.

I haven’t been thinking about those things for a while anymore, and mentally I’ve been ready to move on. But for weeks now, I’ve been wondering why on earth I feel like I have an anxiety attack stuck inside me 24/7?

Then it all makes sense.

The fact that I had to return on all-fours, out of breath, from this year’s first attempt of jogging only half a mile.

The fact that I need to catch my breath as I’m sitting here writing this.

The fact that feeling the weight of a truck on my chest ALL DAY LONG might not be anxiety, but a heart condition.

My thoughts during today’s episode were literally just ”No, no, no, no… no, no… not this, not this…” Hell, on Friday I even wrote that I think I have a heart condition, but for some reason I’ve been thinking that ”nah, I’ll just tough it out when training” but man. O boy o boy… this might be trouble.

I’m feeling a little feverish so the only thing I can come up with, which could make this seem a bit worse than it actually is, is that I might have a cold coming up. Can’t really tell if it’s fever or this heart stuff, but this is certainly not me just having a cold or the sads.

Did I mention that this really runs deep in the family? My aunt just had several angioplasty surgeries, after having similar symptoms. And just like with her, nothing probably shows up until I can get an MRI during one of these thingies. My mom, my uncle and many people from my mother’s side have had these surgeries and conditions, so I am in a risk group.

With my aunt, all appeared normal except that the MRI revealed that she was having A GODDAMN CARDIAC ARREST.

Why do I write so long posts on days like these?

All I can do is to keep on documenting this insane, one-step-forward-five-steps-backwards journey towards the cage fight. And to throw in this piss poor analogy of fighting and the struggles of life:

What happens to you is irrelevant. All that matters is how you react to things, and whether you can stay in the moment and try to enjoy your every breath, or not.

I imagine that an actual MMA fighter who is on their back, mounted, getting elbowed in the face, has to accept the conditions and the situation or get destroyed. Just like in life. When shit happens, you just gotta look for those little openings, be patient, stay focused, make small adjustments, and try to win with the cards that you have. One tiny advancement at a time.

As there shall be NO EXCUSES, I’ll just circle around this roadblock. I’ll continue devoting myself to documenting what is happening, assessing the situation and making adjustments: tonight I gotta stay completely still (and using that time studying Nipsu the Cat’s slick Brazilian cat-jitsu moves, for example). Tomorrow morning pretty much all I can do is stretch, eat clean, go to the doctor and take it from there.

But FFS it seems like it’s going to be a long road until I can enter that cage. I have no doubt that I will, though.

Okay Monday, day 22, bring it! I dare you!


PS. Stipe Miocic is my latest man crush hero. The taming of the near-mythical Francis Ngannou beast was insane… Two absolute warriors! Ossssu! War Stiopic!

Note to self.

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A companion to the Crucible Major series. Thoughts about life, perseverance and discipline.

“For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories.” —Plato

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