51Â鶹

The first time Rachael Mitchell learned CPR, she was in middle school and preparing to babysit neighborhood kids. She continued CPR training about every two years during college and throughout the next decade while working in campus dorms.

Then she changed careers, becoming a development director for the 51Â鶹 in Savannah, Georgia. As part of new-employee training, she took an online Hands-Only CPR training session.

She was relieved to learn CPR could be performed without breaths for adults and teens in cardiac arrest. But one thing this instructor said – something she’d never heard over the years – really stuck with her.

“If you have to do CPR, it’s almost always going to be for somebody you know – family, a friend, someone you work with.”

Two weeks later, that’s exactly what happened.

***

The night a seemingly healthy heart stopped

On Friday, Dec. 22, 2023, Murray Mitchell and Pam Weiss were thrilled to be spending the holidays at home in Columbia, South Carolina, with their 30-year-old daughter, Rachael, and 29-year-old son, Josh.

Around 10:30 p.m., Josh was out with friends. Rachael and Pam were getting ready for bed. Murray checked his watch and saw that he had less than 2,000 steps for the day. So he threw on a sweatshirt and went for a walk through his neighborhood, his usual routine on nights when his step count was below 10,000.

Normally, he would’ve kept going until hitting his daily goal. This time, he returned around 11:10, having only approached 5,800.

Josh was in the living room, watching TV. Murray sat on the sofa behind him.

Josh said something about what they were watching. Murray responded.

Josh made a joke about the show. Murray didn’t respond.

Josh turned to look at his dad. Murray’s face was white and drenched with more sweat than he should’ve.

He seemed frozen.

And he wasn’t breathing.

***

Josh yelled for Pam and bolted upstairs, shouting for Rachael.

In the living room, she said they needed to get Murray on the ground. CPR is most effective when performed on a firm surface.

Josh cleared space by kicking chairs out of the way. Rachael lowered him to the hardwood floor.

Pam called 911. When Murray’s watch detected no heartbeat, it also called 911. Josh called, too. He put his phone in speaker mode so the dispatcher could pace Rachael as she started chest compressions on her dad.

Rachael’s compressions kept oxygen flowing to Murray’s brain and other vital organs. She’d been at it for more than 8 minutes – a long time for such exhausting work – when a paramedic arrived. He came alone, though, so he told her to keep compressing while he set up an automated external defibrillator, or AED.

The paramedic sliced open Murray’s sweatshirt and shirt, stuck two electrode pads onto his chest and hit the button. The AED analyzed Murray’s heart rhythm to determine whether to deliver a shock to his heart to restore a sustainable beat.

Shock advised, the machine said.

It didn’t work.

More first responders streamed in as that played out. While the AED reset for another attempt, one of the paramedics took over chest compressions. Others began connecting Murray to a mechanical device that delivers precise compressions. The mechanical device took over, then was paused for the AED to analyze the rhythm a second time.

Shock advised, the machine said.

This time, it sparked a pulse. A faint one. Paramedics injected a dose of epinephrine, a drug proven to help in these situations.

It did.

Murray remained connected to the mechanical device all the way to the emergency room.

***

At the hospital, doctors were puzzled.

They knew Murray had gone into cardiac arrest, which is an outage of the heart’s electrical system. These are often triggered by a heart attack, a blockage of the heart’s plumbing.

But the initial tests indicated no heart attack.

Hours later, fresh results showed Murray was indeed having a heart attack. He underwent a cardiac catheterization procedure. Doctors found a 99% blockage of the artery that supplies a large portion of blood to the left side of his heart.

Doctors inserted a stent, restoring normal blood flow. They also gave him a temporary pump to ease his heart’s workload. To help his body heal from all the trauma of the previous 12 hours, they placed him into a medically induced coma.

At 68, Murray was a lifelong athlete who ran four times a week and regularly knocked out 10,000 steps a day. He didn’t smoke or drink. A recent checkup showed his weight, cholesterol and blood pressure were under control.

While Murray’s overall fitness couldn’t prevent his ordeal, it would help his recovery.

Once Murray made it to the recovery room, everyone was on edge, still not sure he’d be OK. Pam had looked up survival rates for people who have cardiac arrest outside of a hospital and hoped he’d be among the fortunate 10%.

The wild card was his brain.

Murray had gone roughly 15 minutes between natural heart beats. Had enough oxygen reached his brain during that time? Or would his cognitive ability be compromised?

Nobody would know until he regained consciousness.

***

Two days later, on Christmas morning, doctors were ready to wake Murray.

They weaned him off the pump to make sure his repaired heart was ready to take over. Then they reversed the sedation.

When Murray opened his eyes, Rachael said, “Do you know who I am, Dad?”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Rachael, what’s going on?!”

What a relief.

That promising start dissolved into a frustrating stretch.

Murray couldn’t retain why he was in the hospital. He didn’t always know he was in the hospital. He often insisted he was in a hotel in Charleston, South Carolina.

As his family waited to see whether his mind would sharpen, another issue emerged. The spot in Murray’s upper right thigh where doctors had inserted the catheter – his femoral artery – kept bleeding. He eventually needed a procedure to plug the wound.

A few days later, while a nurse prepared Murray for another procedure, Pam asked her whether his memory issues were typical for a cardiac arrest survivor.

The nurse stopped and looked at Pam.

“Honestly,” she said, “we don’t see many people who make it after cardiac arrest.”

***

A second chance at life

Slowly but surely, the new Murray began to resemble the old one.

At first, even walking was tough. Because he couldn’t remember that his leg wasn’t working properly, he often fell.

Each thud startled Pam. She did have some peace of mind, though. Murray left the hospital with an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, or ICD, a small device in his chest that monitors for a faulty rhythm and, if detected, delivers an electric charge.

As the second anniversary of his cardiac arrest approaches, the ICD has never gone off.

More good news: His mind is back to being as sharp as ever.

Within months of recovering, Murray went back to work at the University of South Carolina, where he’d been senior associate dean of the graduate school. About a year later, he retired, capping a 30-year tenure.

Having his days free has meant fewer nighttime strolls to reach 10,000 steps.

He’s built on an earlier habit of going to a nearby track on Sundays to time a 3-mile run. He now covers that distance daily on a treadmill; he’s faster now than he was in the years before his heart stopped. (His right knee still tingles, a mild irritation.)

A noteworthy change is Murray’s willingness to see doctors. He’s even gotten his two brothers to do the same. Since Murray’s cardiac arrest, one of them bought an AED because he lives far from first responders.

The best parts of Murray’s second chance at life are the moments he would’ve missed. Like going to Colorado for the wedding of his youngest daughter, Sydney. (She’d been on vacation when his heart stopped.) Or going on a European cruise with Pam to celebrate their 35th anniversary.

Many survivors become very emotional about such moments. Not Murray, a stoic Canadian.

He feels no stronger bond with Rachael because they were already very close. “I mean, she's still dependent on us to come down to her place and change the clocks at the time change,” he said, laughing.

Murray also said he “sees no value” in playing the what-if game – as in, what if Josh hadn’t come home when he did? What if Rachael hadn’t recently learned Hands-Only CPR?

Still, he’s quick to acknowledge, “There’s no question I was very fortunate. If all of those things hadn't fallen into place quite the way they had, I'd be a memory at this point.”

***

Murray’s story underscores a simple truth: Heart disease can strike anyone anywhere at any time.

That’s why he and Rachael are sharing their story.

They hope telling it this time of year, when loved ones will be gathering for the holidays, inspires action. Consider sharing this tale at your get-together, then steering the conversation to its key messages, such as:

Who knows Hands-Only CPR? Those who don’t can plan to learn together. Better yet, everyone can immediately watch a to go over the basics. If it seems weird to bring this up, tell everyone what Rachael’s instructor said: “If you have to do CPR, it’s almost always going to be for somebody you know – family, a friend, someone you work with.”

If you had to respond in an emergency, could you do it? While no one knows how they’ll respond until placed in such a high-stakes situation, talking about it could help prepare everyone to start the chain of survival. It’s worth noting that both Josh and Rachael knew CPR, and each had a role to play in the positive outcome: Josh identified the emergency and initiated the actions of involving others, and Rachael began the compressions. Murray considers both his lifesavers.

Are you staying on top of your health? An easy way into this subject is talking about Life’s Essential 8, the ingredients to improving and extending your life. Once you start a health conversation with relatives, go over the shared family history. Make sure everyone knows everything.

Murray didn’t. He spoke for the masses when he said: “It’s not like we ever said, ‘Get your health records out and let’s sit together and see who’s got what.’”

As awkward as that conversation might be, not having it could be worse.

***

Passing the torch

The final piece of this story is Rachael.

From a young age, she showed a knack for staying calm while solving tricky problems. That trait helped during her resident life career. At one point, she dealt with three suicides in a short span; several times, she was among the first on the scene. She’s also earned a master’s degree in professional counseling. All told, she’s developed a strong ability to compartmentalize emotion and lock in on the next task at hand.

While Murray was in the hospital, Rachael was so locked into next-task mode that she shrugged off all the praise she received from doctors and nurses. There was one exception. It came from a doctor who’d been her youth soccer coach.

“You’re the one that did CPR? That’s so great,” she told Rachael. “Of course, it doesn’t surprise me.”

Two years later, Rachael sees several ways the experience changed her.

She appreciates what she calls “the extra time” she has with her dad. She’s more grateful for time spent with everyone she cares about. She’s also begun nudging family and friends to get checkups any time they mention an ache or pain.

Then there’s the way it affected her job.

Encouraging people to learn CPR and stay on top of their health happens to be part of her duties with the 51Â鶹. When she layers her experience onto the boilerplate information, it resonates more powerfully.

She recently shared her story with a mother whose teen son wasn’t as fortunate as Murray. The mother used her sad tale to spur CPR training mandates in Georgia and South Carolina schools.

The mother cried, saying Rachael and Murray’s story is why she wants everyone to learn CPR.

“My goal is to be as strong in sharing all this as she’s been,” Rachael said. “If I can change even one person’s fate, it’s so worth it.

“And then they can pass that torch to the next survivor.”

Find details about 51Â鶹 classes, as well as videos about hands-only CPR, at heart.org/nation.

Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.