Witness Marks: Stories From a Heart Transplant

 So, it turns out the quickest way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach after all. It’s through his neck—specifically, the internal jugular vein. Sometimes the groin, wrist, or upper arm will do. Ask me how I know. Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve had this done about 25 times. The first time was when I was twenty years old. I had been diagnosed with supraventricular tachycardia, and the doctor assured me he could fix it with a procedure called endocardial ablation. I was taken to the cardiac catheterization lab—the Cath lab—where they accessed my heart through the femoral artery in my groin. It was scary (they use only light sedation, not full anesthesia), uncomfortable (I had to lie flat with sandbags on my groin for hours to stop the bleeding), and deeply embarrassing (again, it was my groin). I’ve only had this done twice since. I do not recommend it—unless, of course, they’re trying to save your life. In that case, by all means, embrace your overpriced bikini shave a...

If the phrase  “new year, new you”  grates on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, then welcome to the club. I’ve said before that I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. Instead, I endorse the practice of finding disciplines you actually enjoy, being intentional and consistent with them, and then watching how your life gradually changes for the better. That said, I’m not opposed to identifying areas of my life that could use some improvement. For instance, I recently set out with the goal of running—er, completing—an organized 5K fun run. I know that in working toward this goal, I will inevitably bump up against setbacks—maybe many of them. At this stage of life, I don’t just expect setbacks; I plan for them. Contingencies are the name of the game. At this stage of life, if I didn’t accept the reality of setbacks and plan around them, I might never try anything at all. I remember that early after my transplant, I came across an Instagram account belonging to a woman who h...

The first official training run for my 5K goal is done. Did I last the full 3.1 miles? No. Did I run the entire time? Also no. But running the entire time is not the point. The point, for now, is solely and exclusively to eventually register for—and complete—an organized 5K. So this morning’s frosty 2.4-mile jog, chock-full of uphill walk breaks, was, in my mind, perfect. I set out this morning knowing full well that I wouldn’t run the entire time. I planned a route with plenty of hills, focusing on running the downhill portions and briskly walking the uphill parts. It was bitterly cold, hovering right around 20 degrees Fahrenheit. My hands and ears became so numb that I momentarily worried I might do some kind of permanent damage (in packing for our week away, I forgot proper gloves and a hat for running in such cold temperatures). Regardless of preparation—or lack thereof—slow pace, and shorter-than-ideal distance, I set out this morning to take the first step toward my goal, and I d...

I recently learned that the very thing that drives so many people where I live crazy is also the secret behind our spectacular sunsets. It turns out that the dust, the high altitude, and the bone-dry air—the trio that makes daily life feel like a battle with the elements—are the same ingredients that paint our skies in colors that look almost unreal. For years I’ve grumbled about the dryness that clogs my nose at night and leaves my eyes feeling like sandpaper. And the dust—don’t even get me started. The slightest breath of wind can fling enough grit into the air to make you wonder if we’re all going to die of black lung. But then evening comes, and suddenly all that irritation feels like the price of admission. Because, wow. Our sunsets don’t just appear; they  perform . Bold and fiery—light and color spilling across the sky and over the mountains in a way that can't be captured in words. What’s really happening is a little atmospheric artistry. As the sun sets, its light comes th...

I have this toxic ex-boyfriend, and he haunts me. In fact, I run into him almost every day. It’s becoming problematic. We were first introduced in elementary school. I hated him then. I couldn’t understand the kids who liked him—mainly the boys in my class. He was always chosen for all the teams, and all the boys loved to play with him at recess. I personally never understood the attraction. In junior high, he started drawing the attention of some of the girls. Not me, however. I tried steering clear of him, but no matter how hard I tried, it seemed we were always partnered up in gym class. It was torture. In high school, my sister started hanging out with him a lot. She and her friends spent quite a few summer mornings and Saturdays with him. Their time together looked so easy—so fun and refreshing. Though I didn’t understand at first, you could say I was intrigued; maybe there was something there. Maybe if I gave him a try, I’d understand the appeal. And so I began a flirtation, if y...

 My son is currently facing one of those big life choices: which path to choose after college. He is currently pre-med, but we all know that while many are called, few are chosen. Meaning, not everyone who intends on going to medical school will actually find themselves on that journey. He has also set his sights on possibly applying to a PA (physician assistant) program as well. At any rate, his desired outcome is to work with patients in healthcare and he is diligently preparing himself now, however it may look in the future. Someone close to him recently said, "We've decided you need to go to medical school because one day you'll look back and regret not going all the way." Upon hearing this, I immediately bristled. While I believe my son is smart enough to get into medical school, if he chooses some other graduate degree program I will be proud of him and will never see him as not having gone "all the way." And here is why: My son's reasoning for goi...