for normal.
The ICD surgery was scheduled for the next morning. That night I couldn’t sleep, reliving the moment my heart stopped—the emptiness, the loss of control, voices shouting. At 3 a.m., my phone buzzed with messages. Zara: “ARE YOU ALIVE??” Leo: “Bro please say something.” And a link to video footage—shaky, showing my body on the hallway floor continue reading …
