A similar story but it was not a mirror that I looked at. At 48 I was looking up at lights flying by above me as they wheeled me down the corridor of the hospital, into the cath lab where they proceeded to tear off my clothes. As I laid there butt naked on a cold table I could only pray that I would make it through. Not even my wife knew where I was. I thought I was going to die, cold, alone. But they saved me. 2 stints and a few days later I was in my own bed thanking God for allowing me a second chance. I made a promise to myself I would get back in shape.
The first year was the hardest. While on placid a they would not let me ride a bike. Walking was about the best I could do. But after getting off Plavics I bought a bike. I try and ride 20 miles each night. Some nights longer. At 51 I do not feel like 17 but I feel a lot better than I did laying on that cold table. I hope this bike keeps me from ever having to go through that again. Facing death was very scary for me.