I awoke normally after a well-rested sleep. Sunlight was peering through clouds in the eastern sky. It was a quiet cool morning. As usual, I got past my morning rituals and prepared to get down to the ground level to do a brisk walk around the condominium complex. I always felt better after the walk.
My driver would come sharply at 7 am to pick me. Everything was a bit of clockwork every weekday. He would ferry me past the edge of Saigon City into its industrial suburbs, about 50 km to the north of the city. It will be a one-hour ride that would normally allow me to plan my workday and business affairs. The ride was usually peppered with quiet personal thoughts and maybe an occasional phone call. The driver had strict instructions not to use the horn, as he weaved in and out of traffic. But I would hear the incessant horn of passing cars and motorbikes in rushing morning traffic nonetheless. And then there were bad traffic days – that could extend the ride to two hours or more. I was leading a plant that produced packaging for the regional global tobacco industry. I enjoyed the challenge that came with my role. Perhaps it also rewarded the stretch that I had to put into it.
I stayed alone at a rented 10th-floor apartment in a Korean-built apartment complex. It was a convenient quiet location, not too far away from Saigon, and an hour to the factory. Most of the tenants were mid to senior personnel who worked at the Samsung factory nearby. My typical workday was would end at about 7 in the evening at the office. If I left the office any earlier I would get caught in the evening rush hour, and so made no sense. In any case, my colleagues in Europe would have just started their email barrage. Or it would be a phone call on the issues of the day. Sometimes, I would try to get a head-start to respond to emails, as quickly as they arrived. Do, delegate or delete only works sometimes. I’ll add the 4th D: Dream, as I was almost always playing catch up. We had global customers and that did require some coordination. The business operation was a recent acquisition and the company’s first outpost in Asia. Things were still in flux.
On a normal day, I would stop for a light dinner and then head back to the apartment. Crazy as it sounds, it would have been 14 to 15 hours daily to do a job. They could have given me a medal for the tenacity of showing up. I looked forward to weekends to catch a breath. Daily, especially on weekdays, there was little time left to get physical. The only thing I could call exercise was the brisk walk or a light jog around the apartment building each morning. I would have sweat trickling down my back when the quick sessions ended. It was not what you would call a proper workout. Still, it felt as if I allowed my heart to pace at more than the sedentary rate for at least 20 minutes.
My job required regular travel within Asia and to Europe. If I had to dine with a client or with visiting senior European colleagues, then my evening will wear on till late. I will make it back to the apartment just in time to crash on the bed. This happened at regular intervals and it was part of the job. And so it went on for more than three years. I wanted to share my day with you so that you appreciate the events that I describe in the next paragraphs.
That morning I did the brisk walk as usual. I stopped midway for some stretch exercises and then continued my brisk walk. I would normally do 4 rounds around a 400m circuit. Just as I was on the 3rd round, I suddenly felt a queasy feeling of weakness. My pace slowed. A bit of anxiety swelled all over me. What was it? Something fluttered in the upper reaches of my chest. There was no sharp pain, no numbness, no unusual sweating, no nausea and I could think clearly. Was it a heart attack, I asked myself. It does not look like, I assured myself, remembering all the stuff I’ve read on signs of an impending heart attack. I stopped at the pavement. A familiar neighbor stopped to ask if everything was ok. I smiled to say hesitantly that it was. I was still wondering – “Am I ok?” I breathed deeply a few times. Is this what stress is supposed to be? I was mumbling to myself, just as I decided that I will get back to the apartment.
To be continued…
