George Ketz

To my community,

Abbreviations are part of life. I recently learned a new one when it showed up on my discharge papers-SCD. That stands for sudden cardiac death. Until I read those letters, I thought I'd had a massive heart attack, words no friendlier but somehow more familiar. But the abbreviation SCD belongs more to a death certificate than a discharge diagnosis.

I faced death when I felt the most alive. I was refereeing a kid's basketball game, running up and down the court with no problem. The only hint of trouble was a pain the size of a dime in the center of my chest.

One of the girls took a foul shot, and I counted off the time. I had no idea how precious those seconds were. As they ticked away, it felt as if a heavy blanket draped over me. I blew my whistle and crumpled to the floor. Everything went black.

But at that moment many other hands, caring members of my community cradled my life. Their quick thinking saved me. Someone called 911. Others rushed to revive me with CPR and AEDs, thankfully donated by a community organization. I awoke to someone giving me chest compressions. The local EMS gave me the necessary attention and care I needed to get to PMC. At the ER, I was rushed into the caring hands of PMC's cardiac cath team. As I joked with my wife and kids, my cardiologist, Dr. Gordon Fried told me I was having a massive heart attack. He then inserted life saving stents into my blocked arteries. Over the next few days I gradually recovered, moving first to the Cardiac Care Unit and then on to the Telemetry unit before being released.

Before that night, I had no symptoms of heart disease, but I learned your life can be abbreviated in the time it takes to count down a foul shot. When you die, it's simple. You're gone. But the people you love are left behind. I know the pain of losing someone you love, and I don't want to do that to my family. Now more than ever I tell my wife and kids I love them. I can't waste any more time, I've already lost a few precious seconds too many.

I'm here today thanks to the people who selflessly came to my aid, to the services that our community provides like the EMS, and the AEDs that jolted me back to life, and to Pocono Medical Center. Two years ago there was no Heart and Vascular Institute at PMC. Now it's here, saving lives like mine and so many others. From the bottom of my stent-filled heart, my family and I want to thank everybody who gave a penny to bring Pocono Medical Center's Heart and Vascular Institute into existence and for the staff who care so much. Thank you for not letting my life become abbreviated.