In February 1964, when President Lyndon B. Johnson proclaimed the first American Heart Month, a guy from West Philly named John ODonnel was just a few weeks shy of turning 19. He was dating Susan Fite, a girl from his graduating class at Northeast High School, and two and a half years later, they became my parents.
Just two kids themselves, John and Susan were growing up as they raised me and my younger brothers. By the tender age of 26, they had three of us half-pints, all under 5.
Our young family had 10 years together in a big old fixer upper on a well-kept street where everyone knew your name. Nixon was in the White House, and John brought home the so-called bacon as a salesman for the family-owned tool & die machine shop.
There were dinners out at pizzerias and red sauce joints with other families and summers down the shore with morning bike rides on the boardwalk and after-dinner jaunts to Bettys Ice Cream Parlor for hot fudge sundaes. Together, in their velour V-necks, John and Susan navigated the world on our behalf, in a decade of disco balls, womens liberation, Watergate, Stove Top stuffing and the Fonz.
Then just like that, poof. The unimaginable happened. In the early hours of Oct. 16, 1982, John died of a sudden heart attack. He was 37.
Six weeks later, Johns mother (our grandmother) Helen was gone too, also snuffed out by heart disease, at the much-too-soon age of 56. It was, simply put, too much to bear. But it was also a clarion call for my mom to investigate: It couldnt be a coincidence that her mother-in-law and husband died of the same disease. Genetics were a likely thread, she thought, and if so, what did that mean for her kids?
A battery of blood tests at Childrens Hospital of Philadelphia ensued, revealing that we all had some work to do in the dietary lipids department. But I was singled out as the unlucky heir of genes that pose an elevated risk for heart disease, a legacy that I carry to this day.
In other words, his death is the story of my life. Thats not to say I think of my family heart history as a death sentence, but it certainly has informed the way I cook, eat and think about food.
In the early 1980s, nutritional advice was prescriptive, with little room for dietary moderation or healthy fats. My brothers and I were put on a so-called low-fat diet that replaced butter with margarine, whole milk with skim and bologna sandwiches with deli turkey. Vegetables were not creatively prepared or part of the zeitgeist as they are now. Remember when the options were boiled, canned or covered with cheese sauce?
Throughout my 20s and 30s, I suppressed the idea that I could be the next one in my family to have a heart attack, even after embarking on a culinary career. I ate without my health in mind and avoided regular blood lipid screenings.
Ignorance, I learned, is far from bliss. It would take a few scares to wake me out of denial and take on my cardiovascular heritage once and for all. The first time was nothing more than a bad case of heart palpitations while riding the famously long escalator at the Metro station in Rosslyn, Virginia, but it did prompt an EKG and a stern warning from my doctor about my lipid levels.
The next time, however, was a game changer. I was just a few weeks from turning 50, and I was in my car, maybe a mile from home in Seattle. I had a sharp sensation in my upper left arm that quickly traveled across my chest and onto my upper right arm. I drove myself home (please dont repeat after me) and called 911. I think Im having a heart attack, I told the operator.
I spent the evening in the cardiac ER at a Seattle hospital, getting a full suite of tests as if I were in fact having a myocardial infarction. The urgency of the nurses freaked me out, but as I laid in the bed, waiting for results and the next steps, I realized, my God, this is as serious as a heart attack. I thought about my dad and how he didnt have this level of care and a chance to treat his clogged arteries. Several hours later, I got the all-clear and went home. But from that summer day in 2016, I was done with excuses.
For the next three years, my doctor and I worked together to aggressively change my lipid profile with a combination of diet, exercise and a cocktail of vitamins and natural supplements (niacin, vitamin D3, red rice yeast, to name a few) instead of pharmaceutical statins. Every three months, my blood went through very detailed testing through Boston Heart Diagnostics designed for people with an increased risk of cardiovascular disease. And every three months, my lipid profile got less worrisome. Last summer, before moving to Lancaster, my total blood cholesterol was 193 (down from 261 in December 2018), the lowest its ever been.
But I know now that the work is never done. Im one of those people who has to work harder than most to keep her lipids under control for life.
American Heart Month will come and go, but its never too late to get your blood cholesterol tested. Even if youre in the elevated risk club like me, heart disease is pretty preventable. Take it from me; your life may depend on it.
Heart disease is the leading cause of death for women in this country. In 2017, that translates to 1 in every 5 women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Its the No. 1 killer for black and white women, a tie with cancer among Native American women, and No. 2 killer for Asian and Hispanic women.
Signs of heart attack vary greatly for women. They can include nausea, lightheadedness, jaw, neck or shoulder discomfort, unusual fatigue, sweating and shortness of breath.
For more information on American Heart Month, visit heart.org.
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HEART-HEALTHY RECIPE
On March 1, my dad would have been 75. Since hes been gone, Ive wished for one more night at the dinner table with him. Id prepare him something I know he never got to taste in his short life: a piece of wild salmon, a staple of my weekly diet for its heart-healthy Omega 3 fatty acids.
PAN-SEARED AND ROASTED SALMON FILLETS
This is just one way to rub up your salmon. Feel free to play with other spice combinations and see what appeals.
INGREDIENTS
DIRECTIONS
With a paper towel, pat the salmon dry on both sides and transfer to a plate.
Stir together the salt, smoked paprika, coriander, brown sugar and the ground coffee (if using) in a small bowl. Pat on top and the sides of the fillets. With a silicone brush, gently dab sesame oil on top.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Place a shallow, oven-proof skillet (Im a fan of cast iron) over high heat and swirl in a small amount (about 1/2 teaspoon) of the neutral oil, tilting the pan until the surface is coated.
Once the skillet is good and hot (but not smoking), add the salmon, skin side down, and cook about 3 minutes over medium-high heat, allowing the skin to crisp up. Transfer the skillet to the oven to finish cooking, checking after 3 minutes for doneness. (Plan B, no oven: After the first 3 minutes on the stovetop, cover the fish, lower the heat to medium-low and cook until done.)
Let rest for five minutes per inch of thickness before serving.
How can you tell when the salmon is cooked, anyway? As it cooks, salmon becomes opaque. Ideally, were looking for mostly opaque, with just a hint of translucence. Does it resist a little bit and easily flake? These are good indicators of doneness. Use a rule or tape measure to gauge the fillet thickness, then estimate about 7 minutes of cooking per inch of thickness (and make sure youve measured the thickest part). You may also see white curd-like stuff coagulating on top; thats a protein called albumin. Its totally harmless, but if theres a lot on top, it may be a sign of overcooked fish.
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Heart Heritage: How a father's heart attack affected this writer's approach to food - LancasterOnline
