‘Having Your Eulogy Before You Die’

None of what I’m telling you do I actually remember; it’s been filled in over the last three years by numerous people from numerous perspectives.

On Sept. 10, 2021, I was in a member-guest golf tournament with my business partner John Perconti. I went down on the 12th hole, and two or more golfers assisted in my resuscitation. But the hero of the story is a caddie I didn’t know, on a different hole, who somehow saw what was going on and came over. His name is Dylan Gainer, and he has become almost a member of our family. He administered CPR until the paramedics took over. The police shocked my heart and took me to Saint Francis hospital in Evanston. I was unconscious and would remain unconscious for roughly the next 12 days.

While I was in Saint Francis, they put in three stents in the right side of my heart. I was there for about a day and a half, and then members of my family gathered and got me over to Northwestern hospital, where I remained in a coma. When I came out and was awake, I had ICU delusions. When I would close my eyes, I’d hallucinate, so I was up for 3 1/2 straight days.

I stayed at Northwestern for 30 days, then went to Shirley Ryan, then came home and rehabbed for a month. I did an angiogram in November. They said I had a blockage on the left side and the stents were blocked on the right side. So I had a quadruple bypass.

The hardship of what I went through was on my family and friends, because they had to watch me for days—and the initial prognosis was extremely grim. It was a huge emotional strain on my wife and the rest of our family. But, from my point of view, the heart attack was a life-changing event: It was like having your eulogy before you die. You begin to realize what you mean to the various people in your life. It gave meaning and a thankfulness to my life that was hard to put into words.

It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t get back to being a lawyer. Remote work was a godsend, and I was working that December. I love what I do, I love law, I love thinking about law. I love working with young lawyers and my clients. My family, friends, the people who participated in my resuscitation, all the health care professionals I’ve encountered along the way—they put me in a position where I could continue to work at the job I love, and in the way that I want to work at it.

In retrospect, there were huge signs [I was at risk]. I would think that my primary care provider missed the boat, but I blame myself. Signs and symptoms were ignored, and tests should have been administered. I think they chalked up my long-standing shortness of breath to potential COPD and ignored cardiac implications. Routine tests were not done, or, one could argue, ignored.

As a result, I am a huge proponent of telling everyone of a certain age that you just can’t trust your primary care provider. You sort of become friends, so sometimes they let down their guard in treating you. In addition, everyone needs an advocate, a second voice. … Your PCP may say you don’t need those tests. Get those tests. The worst thing that could happen is they tell you that you are 100 percent fine.

This got my sister to a cardiologist, and she wound up getting three stents. Some of my children have found out they’re high-risk for potential heart disease, so they’re on medication. It spread through not only my family, but friends and their friends. I believe that lives have been saved as a result of my experience.

Another thing that came out of my experience is a strong support of CPR. Our family donated this incredible but simple machine to the Lincolnwood Fire Department, whose paramedics and police played a very important role in my resuscitation. It’s an automatic CPR device that paramedics can take with them when they go on emergency calls. It frees the paramedics to do other important work when they’re trying to save someone’s life.

I don’t look back on my heart attack as a necessarily negative experience—even though it obviously was, and I, statistically, should probably be dead. Just the thankfulness I feel for my family, my friends, the various many people who participated in keeping me alive, is overwhelming.

That I’m here at all is a miracle.