0:00 Last September, I almost lost my own father to something I never saw coming. Not a medical error, not some rare genetic condition we missed, complete ignorance. I've been a cardiologist for 17 years. I've performed over 2,400 cardiac procedures. I've published research. I've lectured at medical conferences. I've saved lives in the ER at 3:00 a.m. when every second counted. My father called me at 7:22 a.m. I remember the exact time because I was in the middle of my morning coffee scrolling through patient charts before
0:30 heading to the hospital. "Son," he said, his voice strained in a way I'd never heard before. "I feel dizzy. My heart's racing. Something doesn't feel right." Now, you need to understand something about my father. He's not the type to complain. He grew up in a generation where you tough things out, where you don't call your son the busy doctor unless something is genuinely wrong. But, I dismissed it. I told him what any cardiologist would say to their parent who just woke up feeling off. "Probably nothing, Dad. Your heart's just adjusting to being awake. Sit down,
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