Nine Years

Nine years. NINE. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I started the day at the hospital, where I had been for 5 weeks trying to get my bleeding under control (blood thinners are tough). It was my last of 30 days to sit at the very top of the heart transplant list and I knew my wait would be months, if not years, if I didn't get a heart that day. I also remember thinking that it would be a great day to get a heart because my blood was already thickened to stop the bleeding. Sure enough the coordinators came in, and of course my family hadn't arrived yet.  They asked, "How'd you like to get a new heart today?" So many thoughts and so many emotions. I knew my best chance at survival was to get a new heart, but the thought of having mine cut out and someone else's sewn is was overwhelming. Not to mention the 1 in 3 chance I had of not making it up off the table. We had made a plan as to how to notify the family, but in the moment all plans went out the window.  My family began coming to the hospital to rejoice and pray with me. It was an absolutely crazy and perfect day.

They didn't take me to surgery until 8pm that night. 12 hours of mulling over the surgery. 12 hours to prepare for whatever the future held. 12 hours to find a peace that surpasses all understanding. And when they wheeled me down the hallway and I had to wave goodbye to the people I loved, I knew that no matter the outcome, God would provide for all of us. I cannot explain the peace I had except to say that I knew if I didn't make it, I was going to be with my Lord and He would comfort the ones I loved. God calmed all my fears and gave me a quiet reminder that He was there.

When I awoke, I knew I was on the wrong floor of the hospital (that's how long I had been there). I heard the nurse say, "It's a miracle." But I didn't understand (and I had a lot of drugs in my system). When my husband came in, he told me that they found my heart was functioning on its own and that I didn't need the transplant.  I was so astounded that I made him tell me again. Then I made my mom tell me and then my sister. I wanted to hear it over and over again.

That year had been so hard. After my open heart to have the LVAD implanted, I was amazed the human body could hurt so badly. Ray and I had such a difficult and life changing year. Many times throughout that difficult time, we felt a little forgotten by God. We cried out to Him with no response. We were clinging to his promises but desperately longed to feel his love. Then that fateful morning nine years ago, I felt like God took his great big arms and wrapped them around me. Ive never felt more loved and more in awe.

Early in my illness I read a book called, "How We Die." The author stated that many years ago there was true strength and chivalry in dying. Back then, most people that got sick stayed at home being taken care of by the people they loved and the doctors would come to them. They were strong and courageous for their families. Nowadays the majority of people die in a hospital surrounded by people they don't know or love and have lost the beauty of being strong during physical failings. I was determined to be the best I could be every single day no matter how difficult my illness got. Now that it has been nine years and two beautiful adopted boys later, I am still trying to make the most of each and every day and to remember that each of these days is a gift from above.