FEBRUARY- THE TRIAD

MY BIRTHDAY, AMERICAN HEART HEALTH MONTH, EATING DISORDER AWARENESS WEEK

Halfway through 2025, I was diagnosed with a heart condition. Despite the fact heart disease is the #1 cause of mortality in women, and a genetic predisposition (my mother was a victim of sudden cardiac death), I didn’t think heart health was anything I needed to be concerned about.

When I moved to New York about two years ago, I found the kind of primary care doctor I never believed existed. She’s kind and funny, but also smart and diligent. She’s taken the time to get to know and understand me. And while we have a laugh or two during my appointments, she takes me seriously.

I showed up to my annual exam last fall with some notes regarding new symptoms I’d been noticing. I attempted to mask my concern with “I’m sure it’s nothing,” but she encouraged me to proceed. As we went through the bullet points, she recommended various tests and imaging to be completed within the next few months. But when she suggested it’d be pertinent to immediately do an EKG in the office, our banter turned urgent.

You need to go directly to this cardiologist. Hands me slip of paper.

But my dog has a training session this afternoon. Can I go tomorrow morning?

Long pause with a raised eyebrow. No.

Oh shit.

The gravity of the situation didn’t hit until I got to my car. The truth is, I’d been gaslighting myself for months. I’m a healthy person goddamn it. I’m just getting older. Mind over matter. I’ll be fine.

Spoiler alert. I was not.

After months of cardiac testing, I finally received both a diagnosis and prognosis. I needed a pacemaker. I was relieved to have answers but also overtaken by more questions. I’d led an active life for decades, conscientious about my overall health and wellness. How was it possible that my heart was now struggling to function? Was it something I did? Could this have been prevented? As I dug for information, I discovered there’s not an abundance of research focused on women’s specific heart issues. Trying to uncover anything about midlife (former) female athletes with heart conditions was an exercise in futility (pun intended).

In a flurry of apathy, I decided it didn’t matter why or how. It’s not as though knowing would change the fact that I spent the morning of my 55^th birthday being poked and prodded during pre-op testing. A week later I had a pacemaker implanted. Somewhere in between these two events I discovered advanced osteopenia was whittling away my bone density. Yes, I’m serious. You can’t make this shit up.

One of the tests my primary care doctor ordered was a Dexa Scan. It took months for me to get an appointment and I kind of forgot about it, being so focused on the saga of my heart. But despite my years of running and strength training, I’d been bitch-slapped by a silent disease. All my lofty aspirations for resuming running post pacemaker recovery, for reclaiming a part of identity that had slipped through my balled-up fists as my wellness plummeted, gone in one soundless implosion.

The worst part of having “almost osteoporosis” isn’t that this chapter of life will read much differently than I’d imagined (although that does suck). Instead, it’s knowing that finding myself in this position is probably my own fault. Sure, I’ve been athletic and physically fit for decades. But I’ve also struggled with disordered eating for at least as long.

I don’t talk much about this aspect of my life. I carry so much shame in tandem with this leech I’ve been hauling around since I was a teenager. I’ve gotten better and then worse. I’ve looked unwell and healthy. I’ve said the right things to make others believe I was healed, while silently succumbing to the thoughts of someone sick.

When I learned that my bones were more brittle than they should be, I descended into another Google rabbit hole. Apparently, my plight is common. I’m not special.

Osteopenia in female athletes often stems from the “female athlete triad”: low energy availability, menstrual dysfunction, and weakened bones.

· Did I spend decades (unknowingly) under eating, even while training for endurance events?

· Did I lose my period for extended periods of time before menopause?

· Did I experience reoccurring, nagging injuries which I pushed through?

· Did I know better but quietly return to this complicated and dysfunctional coping mechanism over and over again?

Check. Check. Check. Check.

Another risk of increased susceptibility to osteoporosis is low bone mass in youth, when 90% of bone density is developed. And if disordered eating behaviors begin before menstruation…

Welp, I guess I was doomed.

This month has been filled with both pity parties and celebrations of appreciation. As I recover, I vacillate between grief and gratitude, coming to terms with reality and trying not to lose myself in empty rationalizations.

Did my history of disordered eating coupled with my years of endurance running contribute to my heart’s sinus node dysfunction? If I’d really changed my ways in my 20s (when I first got help for an eating disorder), would I still be on the verge of osteoporosis?

I’m trying to let these thoughts go, allowing them to take up space momentarily, before fanning them from my mind. In the past when my body didn’t bend to my will, I’d become angry and punitive with her. Now I’m taking a stab at contrition. Proceeding with caution and care, for maybe the first time.

I’m fortunate to have access to excellent health care and the means to educate myself.

I understand this isn’t the case for everyone.

Please support the American Heart Association’s mission to bring women’s heart health to the forefront of research, education, and discussion. Thanks!

https://wearredday2026.funraise.org/fundraiser/vera-jerinic-brodeur