"When there is an organ donor, life springs from death"

Happy fourth heartiversary to me! I make it a point to try to write a blog post for each year that passes and this time I'm not looking back at the old posts for any so-called inspiration. I'm on fall break right now so it means that I have time to be able to reflect and write, but doing both of those things hasn't become any easier considering the subject at hand.

It's a little morbid to lead off with, but I vaguely remember hearing from one of my cousins a few years ago that I looked like I was dying during the time when I was waiting for a heart, or something to that effect. To clarify, one of my cousins was relaying that comment from one of our other cousins so it wasn't something that I heard directly while I was waiting. And, well, it was true. I was dying. I can't look back and say that I wasn't. I couldn't even eat food without feeling an overwhelming urge to throw up. But then most amazing thing happened.

I'll never forget that day. October 19th, 2011, Dr. Scheel dropped by my room. I remember saying something along the lines of this to her: "So, are you here to tell me that there's a heart?" And then the twist came when she said yes. And then I asked her again because I didn't believe her. After she left, I cried and hugged my favorite nurse, Kyle, who just so happened to be taking care of me that day. He told me that he was so happy for me. And because of what happened that day, a 16 year old junior in high school didn't die. A daughter, a little sister, a niece, a cousin, didn't die. I didn't die. By the grace of God, my organ donor and her family, and the incredible transplant team at Hopkins, I lived. Not survived, but lived. I suppose it should be living rather than lived though. Surviving and living, although synonymous, are two different things. And I will be forever grateful.

I don't express my gratitude nearly enough as I should because life returned to what we'll call normal, but I am grateful. I've had my fair share of days where I really do want to give up, but there's always one thing that anchors me above all else (besides religion, family, and friends) and that's my donor. To this day, I don't know anything about her. But I hope that will change in the future when I reach out to her family once more. If anything at all, I just want to say thank you in person to her loved ones because their decision matters just as much as her choice to become an organ donor did.

To everyone who has helped me reach this day in my life, thank you and I love you. Here's to four years and decades more to come!