It's Saturday evening and I wake up at the intensive care unit, a bunch of people around me, tubes sticking out everywhere (even places where you definitely dont want a tube) and I have no idea what has happened. My wife is with me and I try to speak but I cant, so I resort to making a thumbs up sign and a heart with my hands. I ask for a pen and paper to communicate with her. 'What happened?'. I am told that I got up that morning, complained I felt very strange in the chest but I was busy so I left anyway, made it as as far as the reception area of our building where I collapsed. Unfortunately I did so on top of a marble staircase and my face, chest, arms and legs took a brutal beating. I dont remember any of this but the prevailing theory is stress, and it has by far been the most stressful quarter, personally and professionally, of my life but right when I thought I could see the end of it, this happened.
My dad once told me, when I wanted to start my own busineess, that I 'have at least 10 good years in me', it seems that my 10 good years are up and I really need to make sure that I take better care of myself. If I dont how can I care for my family.
I got off lighly this time. No major lasting damage, doctors have checked it all and concluded it was just 'one of those things', but it could so easily have been very different. So I have to to remind myself that making money is important, more importantly though is always being around for my family.