By Dr. Christine M. Silverstein

Adapted from: Wrestling Through Adversity

It was New Year’s Eve 2024, and my husband and I were quietly eating our last celebratory feast of the year at a restaurant across from the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, after we had attended the historic premier performance of Verdi’s Aida that evening. I was just as awe-struck by hearing the beautiful voices, especially that of the soprano Angel Blue, and by seeing the gorgeous costumes, powerful staging, and dynamic dancing as I was years earlier in my life.

The first time I had seen Aida was when I was 14, and my Aunt Leontine, a concert pianist and music teacher, invited me to come, along with my cousin. I remember being so amazed by the performance then since I had never even been to a Broadway show or anything like it before.

Years later, in 2003, I saw Aida again, and I cried all the way through, not because she died in a tomb in Egypt, along with her lover, but because my doctoral oral defense was rejected at Columbia University on that day, when I was told I was crazy—because of a stigma-by-association with mental disorders—and that my research on the history of psychiatric nursing was a figment of my imagination and, therefore, invalid.

Looking forward to 2025, my husband and I enjoyed the antipasto and appetizers at the restaurant, and we were talking about how the new year has to be better than the last, with my sister and brother-in-law dying, with much stress over health issues, and a very challenging Arabic translation of my book: Wrestling Through Adversity: Empowering Children, Teens, & Young Adults to Win in Life (available on Amazon), all of which was knocking the pulse of my life off course.

How was this evident? While I was quietly sitting down eating my stuffed lobster main course, and enjoying it, my heart started to flutter so weakly and rapidly in my chest that I could not count the beats or breathe. It was a surprise to me because nothing like this had ever happened before.

I felt faint and vulnerable. As a nurse, I knew it was serious, and I thought “I could die right here.”  In the moment, while grappling for life, I asked myself: “How [as a peak performance coach] did I help a high school wrestler who had a severely injured shoulder with pain and heart palpitations to place third in a state tournament by using the power of his mind?” Then, I automatically began to take slow, deep breaths and to visualize myself being okay. This action helped to calm me down.

The host at the restaurant kindly called an ambulance when the rapid pulse persisted, and I was taken to the nearest hospital in NYC. In the ambulance my heart rate lying down was 180 beats per minute and my blood pressure was at 177/108. This is very high for me. Upon my arrival at the ER a team of cardiologists was waiting for me, and the staff greeted each other with a “Happy New Year,” as the ball dropped in Times Square some blocks away, and the clock struck 12:00 midnight.

The doctors and nurses at the ER asked me lots of questions, and in the flurry hooked me up to monitors, took an EKG, started IV lines, and began to rule out atrial fibrillation. Eventually, they diagnosed it as Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT) and stated that if the fluttering did not stop soon, I would have to be shocked back into rhythm with pads, like on the TV emergency room medical dramas. I shuttered to think of this surreal and scary situation, and I began to think about why this was happening to me. What did I do to deserve this?

After some time, the doctors used a successful vagal maneuver on me, and my heart rhythm bounced back in seconds. It worked like magic. They wanted to admit me into the hospital for observation, but there were no beds. I ended up staying in the ER for two days, so they could understand why this happened and check out my heart for the cause and for abnormalities.

Although I was in a private room with a bathroom, TV, and monitor, it was very noisy in the ER as patients screamed out in pain with obscenities from the packed hallways. Some were loudly demanding prescriptions from the doctors, like for oxycodone. One patient hit a police officer in the face.

What was clear to me was that everyone had fears of some kind and expressed them in various ways. One young adult had a dressing on his leg that extended from his knee to his ankle. I heard the doctor say he should be discharged against the protestation of the patient who asked: “Where would I change the dressing when I live in the subway train station?”

Another patient on a hallway stretcher stated that she was beaten in her apartment house on the elevator by a tall man who lived in her building. She was scared to go home and face him again. A man in the room next to me was suctioned frequently, and could hardly speak, but I heard him ask for Methadone.

I met a heart-broken woman who spontaneously told me her story of a lost love she had in her life, as she sat in a chair at the foot of her gurney.

How did it turn out for me?

I had no shower or comb or toothbrush for two days, but I began to realize that people live like this every day on the streets of NYC, so I was not alone, but it was fortunate, though, that my experience was short-term in the ER and that the EKGs and echocardiogram turned out to be normal by the time I left the hospital. The doctors did not find a specific cause for my distress—it could have been from the meal I ate, from the wine I drank, from the spices in the food, from infection, or from a multitude of stressors.

SVT has a genetic component, could happen again, or may never happen again. It could be fatal, so I must be prepared to prevent another episode as much as possible.

As I grappled for life, what were the benefits to me and others?

1. I met many wonderful and competent doctors and nurses who really cared for me as a person and about my health. It made me feel safe under their care and comforted knowing that my heart for them was more than a muscular organ that pumps life’s blood.
2. The nurses I spoke to found out from me that as an RN, they can become successful entrepreneurs in the community beyond working in hospitals, as I did.
3. Getting in the Zone with Self-Hypnosis, as well as using Mindful Toughness® skill sets–Breathing Easy, Mental Rehearsal, Mental Recall, and Positive Self-Talk—worked automatically to bring down my pulse to 50 beats per minute on the monitor. This can be applicable to those who have SVT and other heart conditions, including children.
4. I began to realize that “Laughter is the Best Medicine.” What perturbed me in the past I now see with a sense of humor.
5. I became my own best friend and loving caregiver of myself once again.

What events took place that reinspired me to publish my book in Arabic when all seemed lost?

1. The love story of Aida, an Ethiopian princess, took place in Egypt, which is where I was vacationing on the Nile River on the MS Queen of Hansa, when I decided to translate and publish my book into Arabic to aid the young people of the Middle East in turmoil. (See drchristinesilverstein.com to read my story).
2. A gurney transporter asked me if my name is Aida.
3. A cardiologist of Arabic descent said, with a smile on his face, that “Reading your

book is just what I need.” He encouraged me by saying my case story I described is beautiful and that he saw the relevance of it in working with children. His family name means, “stonemason” in Arabic. I feel this has significance to my work while building its foundation, stone by stone, to win in life.

Love’s heart flutter

The rapid flutter of my heart I had on New Year’s Eve was not like the one I felt when I first met my husband as a student at The City College of New York library reading room, and I knew it was love at first sight. It was more of a reality check to promote self-care along with the reminder from a wise ER nurse who said: “It’s not how you start the new year. It’s how you end it that counts.”