A Heartbeat Away

It was late, near the end of a relentless 36-hour shift during my cardiology fellowship. My body ached, my mind was heavy, and all I could think about was the few precious hours of rest that awaited me. My badge was in my pocket, and I was halfway to the elevator when my pager buzzed with those familiar, urgent words: “Code STEMI.”

A heart attack. Someone’s life was hanging by a thread.

For a moment, I froze. My shift was over. The on-call team was already in place. Surely, this wasn’t my responsibility. Exhaustion tugged at me to keep walking, to head home, to rationalize that someone else would handle it.

But something stopped me.

For a moment, I froze. My shift was over. The on-call team was already in place. Surely, this wasn’t my responsibility. Exhaustion tugged at me to keep walking, to head home … But something stopped me.

I turned back toward the cath lab, and that’s when I saw her — the patient. My heart sank. It wasn’t just another face. It was the mother of one of the pharmaceutical reps who often visited our hospital. I remembered him vividly — his kind demeanor, the pride in his voice when he showed me pictures of her. And now, she was here, her life hanging in the balance.

The team was already in motion, the room charged with urgency. Her main artery was completely blocked — a “widow-maker.” Time was of the essence. Without thinking, I joined the team, working through the intricate dance of precision and focus that was now second nature to me. We threaded the catheter, inflated the balloon, and restored the flow. On the monitor, the rhythm steadied — a single, miraculous beat followed by another. Her heart, once at the brink of stillness, came back to life.

When it was over, I stayed by her bedside, monitoring her progress, watching color return to her cheeks. Days later, when she walked out of the hospital with her son by her side, tears welled in both our eyes. He found me before they left and hugged me tightly. “You didn’t just save my mother’s life,” he said. “You gave my family back its heart.”

I didn’t have the words to respond then, but in my heart, I knew this wasn’t just about medicine or skill. It was something far greater — a moment where God’s presence was unmistakable, orchestrating paths and people to converge in ways that only He could design. It was a ve-heeneh  moment, one of those profound instances where what seems like a coincidence reveals itself as part of God’s eternal plan.

Throughout the Torah, the term ve-heeneh – “and behold!” signals moments where the ordinary meets the divine. Avraham sees three strangers outside his tent and runs to greet them — changing his life and ours forever. A ram, “caught in the thicket,” appears at the precise moment to take Yitzchak’s place on the altar. Eliezer prays for guidance, and behold — Rivka arrives, marking the beginning of a lineage that would change history.

These ve-heeneh moments remind us that nothing in life is random. What seems mundane or coincidental often carries the fingerprints of God, guiding us through the most unexpected circumstances. When we open our eyes to this truth, every interaction, every challenge, and every success becomes an opportunity to fulfill a greater purpose.

In my exhaustion that night, I could have walked away. But like Avraham running to meet the strangers or Eliezer stopping to pray by the well, I chose to act. And through that choice, I was blessed to witness a life restored — a heartbeat renewed, a family healed.

As we enter Shabbat and Thanksgiving, let us reflect on the ve-heeneh‭ ‬moments in our lives — the chance encounters, the unexpected challenges, the small decisions that ripple far beyond what we can see. May we find the strength to pause, to notice, and to act with faith, knowing that we are part of God’s eternal story.

Dr. Afshine Emrani is a cardiologist and internist who serves the residents of Tarzana, California, in addition to the greater Los Angeles area.