Two Years On: The Day My Heart Stopped... and My Life Truly Began

Two years ago today, my heart stopped beating.

It's a sentence that still feels surreal to write.

In June 2024, I suffered an out-of-hospital cardiac arrest. One moment, life was carrying on as normal. The next, I had no pulse, no heartbeat, and no guarantee that I would ever open my eyes again.

The only reason I'm here to write this today is because someone knew what to do. My wife, Ruby.

She recognised what was happening, immediately started CPR, and continued until the emergency services arrived. Those first few minutes changed everything. They didn't just save my life, they protected my brain, preserved my future, and gave us another chance at the life we'd built together.

This week marks two years since that moment.

It's a date that brings gratitude, reflection, sadness, pride, and perspective all at once.

Life Before vs Life After

People often ask whether life has "gone back to normal."

The honest answer? No. And in many ways, I hope it never does.

Physically, life looks different. I live with an ICD (implantable cardioverter-defibrillator). Every medical appointment carries questions. Every unexpected sensation makes me pause. I have a constant reminder that life is precious and, sometimes, unpredictable.

Mentally, the journey has been even bigger. Surviving a cardiac arrest isn't the end of the story. In many ways, it's where the real work begins.

There have been moments of anxiety, moments of fear, moments where I questioned whether I'd ever feel like myself again.

There have also been moments of overwhelming gratitude.

Watching Albert grow up, sharing ordinary evenings at home, laughing with friends, date nights with Ruby.

The things I once rushed through have become the moments I treasure the most.

Purpose Found in the Unexpected

Before my cardiac arrest, I had a successful career, ambitions, goals, and plans.

I still have ambitions, but they're different now.

My definition of success has changed. Success isn't measured purely by business growth or financial milestones anymore. Success is helping someone leave one of our CPR courses believing they could save a life. It's hearing someone say they finally have the confidence to use a defibrillator. It's standing on stage sharing my story and watching people realise that cardiac arrest can happen to anyone, not just someone who looks "unhealthy." It's receiving a message weeks later saying someone has checked where their workplace AED is because of something they heard me say.

Those moments matter. They're why The Idiopath exists.

The Ripple Effect

When people think about surviving cardiac arrest, they often focus on the person whose heart stopped, but the reality is that cardiac arrest happens to an entire family.

Ruby has her own memories of that day. Albert has his.

Our parents, our friends, our wider family, they all experienced that moment differently.

Recovery isn't just physical. It's emotional, it's psychological, and it's relational.

Everyone recovers in their own way.

That's something we've become incredibly passionate about talking about, because survival statistics only tell part of the story.

Behind every survivor is a network of people whose lives changed forever too.

Building Resilience

One thing recovery taught me is that resilience isn't something you're born with, it's something you build. Slowly, often reluctantly, sometimes one day at a time.

Over the last two years, Ruby and I have developed what we now call The Five Pillars of Resilience.

These pillars weren't created in a boardroom, they were built through hospital appointments, setbacks, difficult conversations, victories, uncertainty, and countless moments where we had to choose how we responded rather than simply react to what life threw at us.

Those experiences now shape every resilience workshop we deliver, because resilience isn't about pretending everything is okay, it's about learning how to move forward when life changes in ways you never expected.

Why We Teach CPR

When I tell people my story, they often ask what they can do.

The answer is remarkably simple - Learn CPR.

Know where your nearest defibrillator is.

Don't assume someone else will know what to do.

Every minute without CPR dramatically reduces the chances of survival.

Most cardiac arrests happen outside hospital. Most happen at home.

Most are witnessed by someone who knows the person.

Someone just like Ruby.

You never expect to need these skills, but if you do, they'll become the most important skills you'll ever use.

Looking Forward

Two years later, I still think about that day. Probably every day.

Not because I want to dwell on it, but because it reminds me not to waste the life I was given back. I'm grateful to every paramedic, emergency call handler, doctor, nurse, cardiac rehabilitation professional, family member, friend, and supporter who has helped me get to where I am today.

I'm grateful to Ruby, whose courage under unimaginable pressure gave me the opportunity to still be here.

And I'm grateful for every person who has attended one of our sessions, shared our story, or chosen to learn CPR because of it.

If our experience encourages just one more person to take a CPR course...

If one more workplace installs a defibrillator...

If one more bystander has the confidence to step forward when someone collapses...

Then everything we've been through will continue to create something positive.

A Final Reflection

Two years ago, my heart stopped.

Today, my life has more meaning than I ever imagined it could.

I don't take ordinary days for granted anymore.

I celebrate birthdays differently.

I hug my family a little tighter.

I worry less about things that won't matter in five years.

I care more about people than possessions.

Life isn't measured by the number of years we're given.

It's measured by what we do with them.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of this journey.

And if there's one thing I'd ask of you today, it's this:

Please learn CPR.

You probably won't ever need it, but if you do, you could give another family exactly what mine was given two years ago...

A second chance.