The Night the "Black Box" broke

1994, 2010, and the reason why Hrudhaya exists

Dear Hrudhaya Family,

It was 1994, I was 5 years old and my brother was 9 years. My mother had just entered her 33, and we also had completed our house-warming ceremony. Life was going great, and none of us were prepared for what was about to happen - My father had his first cardiac incident. My uncle & mother took him to a renowned heart hospital in Bangalore where he got his first angiogram done. That was the year our world changed, my father was prescribed with medicines for life to manage his heart.

For the next 16 years, our family lived in what I now call the “Black Box”. On the outside, we looked like a normal South Indian family. My father was a loving, intelligent and “live-for-today” kind of man. He was very friendly and could start a conversation with anyone. He loved sweets, bakery items, and to eat outside in different restaurants. But on the inside, my mother carried a silent, heavy weight. She was young, she didn’t fully understand the doctor’s language, and she had to manage a husband who was not proactive in changing his lifestyle choices even after the incident.

She tried to “nudge” him. She ensured that she gives “high fiber” vegetables after his morning walk. She tried to monitor his volatile diabetes and BP, but she was not very successful as the diabetes was almost always on the rising trend. We were all guessing, since we kids were either “too young” to interfere, or “too far” to help as my brother went outside Bangalore for work. We relied on hope and prayers, not data and knowledge. As I grew, I learnt that her actions and behavior was driven by fear of not losing him, and more importantly not knowing how to manage this deadly disease with guidance from experts.

It was August 2010, we were coming back from a marriage reception and my father was driving the car. Suddenly, he felt very uneasy, and could not drive. Since we knew he was a heart patient, we immediately asked him to rest, gave him some water till he felt little comfortable and my relative drove us back home. He took his normal heart medicines and continued life as always. They also visited a cardiologist in the coming days, who reviewed the reports and told that he had experienced a minor heart attack and advised him to be more careful. Our parents did not share this with us, since they believed we would not be able to help in any way. Even though my brother was working by that time, he was not staying with us in Bangalore.

Then came Christmas 2010.

We were at a mall on the Christmas evening, it was beautifully decorated with full lights and the evening’s energy was amazing. I remember my father was looking uneasy, taking breaks while we all walked effortlessly. The elders thought, “He’s a heart patient, its normal to be tired” and we went back home by 10 pm.

Cut to 12:30 am that night, my father woke my mother up and told he was feeling uneasy. Not knowing the storm that was about to unfold, she did what she knew whenever he complained about similar symptoms, thinking it could be acidity due to gas. She gave him some home remedies, massaged him on his back and waited if he would feel better. By 1:30 am, when things din’t get better, she woke me up saying “Appa is not feeling good, I think we should take him to the hospital”. I was in my final year of my engineering but still did not know what to do in such emergency situations. We requested our neighbor to help us take him to the nearby hospital. We lived in the first floor, and with great difficulty and little support from my father bought him to the car.

I rode ahead on my 2-wheeler to the nearest hospital, but when the car arrived, the duty doctor examined my father and delivered the first blow: “We can’t treat him here, there is water in his lungs, please take him to a bigger hospital.”

In that moment of panic, at around 2:10 am, I realized we were completely unprepared. No ambulance. No cardiologist on the phone. No map.

The “Golden Hour” was passing quickly amidst all this confusion.

I cannot change what happened that Christmas night in 2010. But I can change what happens tonight for a thousand other families.

In my next letter, I want to share the 3 specific things I wish we had that night — the 3 things that could have changed my father’s destiny, and the core pillars on which I am building Hrudhaya.

I don’t want to build this alone. I want to build it with you. If you’ve ever felt that same ‘Black Box’ anxiety, or if you’re a ‘Family Champion’ yourself, I invite you to join me.

Let’s make every heartbeat count, together.

Love & Hearts,

Nithin

P.S. If you know another 'Family Champion' who needs to hear this story, please share this and invite them to join us.