I chose life three times….

  • November 9th

    November 9th

    The nurse came through the door differently. It was 10:15 on Thursday evening, November 7th. The ward had settled into its overnight rhythm—the particular quiet of a hospital after the last shift change, monitors steady, the corridor outside moving slowly. The day had been ordinary by the standards of that room: a walk outside, pork

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  • The Waiting

    The Waiting

    Tom Petty said it as well as anyone ever has. The waiting really is the hardest part—but not for the reasons most people assume. It isn’t a matter of patience. Patience implies something you can summon—a discipline you can practice. This is something else entirely. The runway is short, and the solution to a successful

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  • Dignity

    Dignity

    There is a transaction that occurs the moment you are admitted to a hospital for a serious, extended stay. Nobody explains it to you in advance. Nobody sits down and walks you through the terms. It simply happens, quietly and completely, from the first hour. You surrender agency over your own body. Not partially. Not

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  • Standing On Your Own…With Assistance

    Standing On Your Own…With Assistance

    The room at 7am looked the same every day. Lines in, lines out. The Impella running its quiet mechanical rhythm in my chest. The monitor glowing green behind my head, numbers I had learned to read the way you learn to read a dashboard—not alarming anymore, just information. The ward coming to life outside the

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  • Out of the Frying Pan

    Out of the Frying Pan

    The listing came through on a Friday afternoon. October 11th, 4:02 in the afternoon, Niles in the room. I had been officially listed for transplant—Status 2 at The Christ Hospital in Cincinnati, on an Impella heart pump, waiting. I posted to Facebook from the hospital bed. I HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY LISTED. Three days of relative stability followed.

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