His body betrayed him in public. The swelling came like a cruel joke, and everyone treated it like one. They laughed at his “beer gut” while he silently wondered if this was how dying began. Nights turned into a private horror, every inhale a shallow, burning gamble. He knew something was wrong, but denial was easier than terror. Until the pain sharpened, the pressure in his chest rose, and the mirror finally refused to lie. By the time he dragged himself to the ER, his skin felt like it might split, and his heartbeat sounded like a ticking clock buried in fl… Continues…