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During an exam following a two-week hospital stay, a cardiologist gave James Young II sobering news: His heart was pumping so poorly that he needed a defibrillator implanted in his chest in hopes of preventing him from dying of cardiac arrest.

James was 40 and weighed nearly 300 pounds, partly due to fluid retention. He smoked, drank heavily and hadn’t exercised in years. For two decades, his diet had consisted mostly of fast food – fried chicken, french fries topped with cheese and hot dogs smothered in chili.

One day, he was gasping for air, so he sought treatment at a hospital in his native Detroit. A cardiologist told him he was a “walking stroke waiting to happen.”

James left the hospital with a cluster of diagnoses: Type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, heart failure and alcoholic cardiomyopathy, in which the heart becomes weakened and enlarged from drinking alcohol. His heart was pumping at only 15% capacity (a metric known as ejection fraction); the normal range is 55% to 70%.

Now another cardiologist was suggesting that James receive an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, or ICD.

“Is there an option B?” James asked.

There was, the doctor said. But it usually didn’t work.

“Can you make some major alterations to your health?” the doctor asked.

James said he could. The cardiologist gave him six months to prove it.

James Googled “heart failure” to learn what needed to change – then got started making those changes.

He swapped out soda for water. He cut out his beloved fast food and started cooking at home, experimenting with spinach, kale and bok choy. Instead of bacon and eggs fried in bacon grease, breakfast became sautéed vegetables with either an egg or avocado. Lunch meant salads or homemade lentil soup. For dinner, he ate smaller portions – no more second or third helpings – and covered his plate with vegetables.

Then he stopped seeing his bar friends. No more nightly beer, vodka and gin.

“Hey, this is my life; this body is the mode of transportation that God gave me,” he thought. “And what am I doing? I'm destroying this mode of transportation.”

James also started visiting the local high school track.

For several weeks, he sat in the bleachers watching the evening walkers and joggers. He didn’t join in, he said, because physical activity felt “alien,” and his limbs swollen with fluid made him feel off kilter.

Soon, walkers and runners began coaxing him off the bleachers.

“One day,” he said, “something in me just said, ‘Get up and get out there.’”

The first day, he walked a quarter of a lap. Every day, he walked a bit farther, slowly at first before working up to speed walking then jogging. His fellow track users became his cheering squad, reminding him to have fun.

Friends noticed his habits changing. Danny Pimienta saw that James wasn’t drinking alcohol and had stopped eating fried chicken, pig feet and other favorites during social events for their fraternal organization.

“When he knew what he had to do,” Danny said, “he did it.”

Six months into his new regimen, James saw the cardiologist again. His heart was pumping more blood. The doctor said he could continue with his new diet and exercise – no defibrillator needed. His primary care physician was so impressed that she encouraged him to share his story to inspire others.

James began volunteering with the ·¬ÇÑÊÓƵ. He spoke at public events and served as a patient representative on grant review committees. He enjoyed studying the grant proposals and reading research. While attending a meeting at the organization’s headquarters in Dallas, he realized, “I think I’ve found my purpose.”

In 2015, James left Eastern Michigan University before earning a degree. In 2020, he returned. He switched his major from secondary education to public health. He finished his undergraduate degree, then he earned a master’s in public health, focusing on heart health, at Purdue University.

Now 54, James’ heart function continues to improve. He goes to the gym at least three times a week. He’s become an avid cyclist and still loads his meals with vegetables.

He now works as a clinical research retention coordinator at Wayne State University School of Medicine in Detroit, overseeing participants in two hypertension studies. He plans to pursue a doctorate in public health.

When colleagues marvel at his transformation, particularly the way he’s stuck with his new lifestyle, he tells them how he was motivated by “the fear that I was going to die.”

“I actually understood that I was literally killing myself,” he said.

James continues sharing his story to inspire others, especially anyone who might shy away from doctors and shun healthy food.

“You can rewrite your diagnosis,” he said.

Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.