"What I Am Doing with My Second Chance"
When I received my own heart transplant over 12 years ago, I knew my life had been spared for a reason. I made a quiet promise to use my second chance to walk alongside others facing the same terrifying, uncertain road. Over the years, that promise has led me to conference calls, into hospital rooms and other places to sit with the young and the old — whether they were facing complex heart diagnoses, LVAD implants, the daunting reality of a major operation, or even the end of life. I've also made it a personal mission to talk to men about the vital importance of heart health, urging them to listen to their bodies before it's too late.
But of all the moments I have shared in those quiet hospital rooms, the one that left the deepest imprint on my soul was with a 14-year-old boy.
He was a vibrant, beautiful soul looking forward to getting a new heart so he could finally truly live. When a matching heart became available, the surgery was a success, and he was doing wonderfully. While recovering in the hospital, he realized his 15th birthday was approaching, and he confessed to me that he had never tasted lobster. With his grandmother and the nurses' blessing, we threw him a birthday lobster party right there in his room. Watching him experience that simple joy for the very first time is a memory I will carry forever.
In the joyous weeks that followed, as we talked and played the video games he'd asked me to bring in, he looked at me with the brightest smile and said he couldn't wait to return to church. He wanted the two of us to walk down the center aisle together — proudly side-by-side as "heart twins." He was the happiest kid I had ever seen.
But the road of transplantation can be incredibly unpredictable. Weeks later, unexpected complications arose, and his body began to fail.
During one of his weakest moments near the end, he looked at me and said words that shattered my heart, yet filled it with an eternal sense of purpose:
"I did get my new heart, and I had lobster for the first time, and everyone loved me. Thank you Mr. Crockton. But we will walk down the church aisle together."
He didn't make it home from the hospital, but he left this world knowing he was profoundly loved, and he left me with a legacy to uphold.
This is why I do what I do. This is why I advocate, why I mentor, and why I sit by the bedsides of those who are afraid. We don't always get to choose the outcome of our battles, but we can always choose to make sure no one fights them alone. My young friend didn't get to walk down that earthly aisle with me, but I know that one day, we will take that walk together. Until then, I carry his spirit in every step I take, and in every heart I try to help heal.