Thank you for sending those comments and stories.  It reminded me of what happened the day of my son's 2nd event, the day he actually almost died.  

In between the first and second there were about 2.5 days.  During that time, he complained of a racing heartbeat, but he didn't immediately tell us.  When I learned it had happened in school (fast heartbeat, not the time he lost consciousness in practice), I immediately left work and came to get him.  Took him to the doctor, but he again tested completely normal.  Nonetheless, when we explained what had happened a couple of days ago, the doctor recommended he see a cardiologist.  I would have insisted anyway.  My mistake was not immediately checking him into the hospital.  Instead, I woke him up the next morning and went back downstairs to finish making breakfast.  The plan was to hold him out of school and take him there.  

I heard a loud thump upstairs, and was briefly a bit angry, thinking he might have been upset about being awakened and throw something on the floor.  About 5-10 seconds later, hearing an alarmed cry from my younger son, I immediately knew what must have been happened.  Went immediately upstairs and found him in the final bits of what looked like a seizure.  Because I'd heard what had happened at practice 2 days before, I immediately knew this would likely end with him not breathing.  After another 30 seconds or so, that's what happened.  At that moment, I can remember having two very distinct but simultaneous thoughts.  One was that I'd better get 911 and start CPR right away, and the other was that he was likely going to die in my arms.

I sent our younger son for the phone, and I got ready to start CPR.  Called 911, and I ended up doing the first round (possibly not hard enough) while they helped count.  They got address and details first.  In that first round, my son didn't awaken, but he seemed to get one or two very shallow and "gurgly" breaths.  In the moments before the second round, I could hear my voice getting desperate, going up about an octave, and pleading with them to hurry.  The fire station is only about 5-6 blocks away, but there is construction at a nearby corner where the Hurricane Harvey floods took out an intersection.  The started asking for the street that enters our neighborhood, but I simply couldn't remember.  When you turn in, the road has a different name.  It goes by about 4 houses and then bends to the right (more of a bend than a 90 degree).  In my mind, it's not a street change, but it has a different name.  In the heat of that moment, I could not access the memory.  After they asked a couple of times and with the memory not coming, my younger son suddenly chimed in with the street name.  I'm so grateful for his cool-headed heroism.  

I sent him down to open the door and make sure the paramedics wouldn't pass the house.  Also, I didn't want him to see his brother die.  During a 2nd round of CPR, my older son started to get colder and more purple.  He didn't breathe at all.  By this time, I knew there was only one chance, which was the paramedics arriving.  I thought (and was later told) that I probably kept enough blood moving to help him minimize damage by keeping oxygen to the brain, but I didn't actually revive him.  I remember pleading with the 911 operator, saying "He's dying . . ." in what I think I remember being a pitiful-sounding and almost falsetto voice.  That moment the single worst thing that life has ever brought to me.  

The paramedics came in and got immediately to work.  I couldn't watch that, and I knew that we would be immediately going to the hospital.  Got his brother a yoghurt and juice and went to get dressed.  In that five minutes, the paramedics had intubated him and ran the AED twice.  That got his heart started, but he was so uncomfortable and scared that he was fighting them all the way down to the ambulance.  Later, I found little splotches of blood all over his carpet.  

There's more, and it was still scary for the next 24 hours, especially since his short term memory didn't really return until the next day.  But basically from that moment on, everything started to get better.  And it's still doing that today.  

I'm not sure what's making me write this here, but obviously I've told this story to family and friends.  Reading the article that just got published and seeing some of my son's comments with some distance (for the first time) was a powerful experience.  It's almost like I had to vent it somewhere, and this group of people have always seemed to have a caring side.  And since the story has such an uplifting ending (or mid-point, I figured it wouldn't bring everyone down.