I very distinctly remember March 16, 2015. I was the chief surgical resident on call for trauma at my busy urban training program. Like any other springtime trauma call I was steadily busy, running back and forth from penetrating and blunt trauma victims in the trauma bay to inpatients, OR cases, and attending rounds. The characteristically hectic flow of the day was interrupted when I got a call from my mother: My father was having diaphoresis and chest discomfort. At this time, he was 65 years old and healthy. He had just recently retired, exercised almost every day, and took no medication.
Like any other doctor who hears family complaints, my first instinct was to reassure my mother that everything was fine. She felt that the situation was serious, and I could sense the urgency and panic in her voice, so I advised her to go to the emergency room. Several hours later, we were all surprised to find out that my healthy father had elevated cardiac enzymes.
Over the next 24 hours, my father remained in the emergency room under observation. There were no inpatient hospital beds, so we waited and trended troponins. On every lab draw, they steadily increased.
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