CEO’s ‘Widow-Maker’ Heart Attack Made Him Question His Worth | Invesloan.com

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Bruce Adams, 52, who lives in West Hartford, Connecticut. He is the CEO of the Credit Union League of Connecticut, a trade association. In October 2024, Adams had a heart attack and spent six months away from work as he recovered. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

It was a particularly stressful morning. I was at my desk in my home office, meeting with my team to finalize the details for our upcoming trade show. I stood up to get a bottle of water, and I didn’t make it 10 feet before I started hyperventilating. I had to lie down on the floor.

I texted my girlfriend and said, “Something’s happening to me. Cold sweats. Pain in my chest, but no arm pain. Doesn’t feel like a heavy weight.”

She called 9-1-1. I texted my COO and said, “I’m not coming back to the meeting. Something is wrong.” I texted my PR guy.

At the hospital, they determined that I was having what’s sometimes called a “widow-maker” heart attack. I had five blockages, so they had to do emergency bypass graft surgery. They sent me right over to the OR, and nine hours later, I was in the ICU.

Before going into surgery, I was able to talk to my girlfriend and some people who had come to visit. That was when I finally got emotional.

Before that, it was all work — still trying to get my PR guy to be ready to do a statement. It was a little irrational because there’s a smidge of, perhaps, too much self-importance.

I run a membership organization, and there were going to be hundreds of people at this trade show where I’d be conspicuously absent. Yet, I’m also not that important. The show is going to happen without me. But when you’re having that breakout moment, everything becomes super important.

My recovery

I view my time off from work as two chunks. The first three months were mostly physical, and the second few months were mostly mental and emotional. I’m blessed to have been given the time to recover.

In the course of finishing the first three months, I realized that maybe there are questions I ought to think about, like, “Why did I walk away from the plane crash, metaphorically speaking?”

I found a therapist who specializes in near-death experiences and medical crises. I had a therapist before. I’m a big fan of getting a regular mental tune-up, like an oil change for your car. She helped me ask hard questions and pointed me toward living a life that has time for parenting, work, rest, and play. I’ve been reminded in the worst possible way that we only have one shot at this.

Going back to work

We had switched offices between the time I left and came back. I didn’t have a badge to get into the building or know where the bathroom was. I felt like the new guy.

I was scared. I didn’t know that I could get my engine turning at the same RPMs as it was before. I didn’t know if I would be a drag on the people who had figured out how to move forward without me. I thought, as the CEO, I’ve got the biggest item on the budget’s wage line. Will people think I’m not worth it?

That was a few weeks of manageable, but actual, fear. Then it struck me that the whole reason I had that fear was because I had set that team in place — and they were able to do it without me.

The systems we had in place, and the people operating those systems, were not only able to respond in that immediate moment of our trade show — not knowing whether I’d live or die — but also for the next six months.

I had to honor what they did and accept that they could do it without me. At the same time, I had to accept that I still had something to offer. Those two things are hard to align, but are so important.

My first board meeting back was weird because normally, as the CEO, you’re presenting the financials and talking strategy. But what could I talk about? I had been gone for six months. Our COO, who had been the acting CEO, was sitting next to me.

The board had lived its own sort of trauma, and the COO had, too. We had stayed in touch, so I knew what was happening at work, and I was able to help make some decisions. But I had said to her, “I’m helping you as your friend, and you don’t want me to have surprises when I come back. But whatever decisions you make, I’m going to back you up.”

After I was back, during conversations with our members, I heard, “Jeez, your team did so great while you were gone.” And I thought, “I built a team that was able to withstand such a big shock.”

That was very, very gratifying. I’ve always been sort of a lead-from-behind guy, but I am even more so now. The refrain of being told this about my team reinforced that I felt like a coach. I felt I could be the leader, instead of the doer. Every functional team needs that.

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