Beyond Survival: The Moment My Story Changed

Before my procedure, my life was about survival—enduring each day, managing symptoms, and hoping for just a little more time. Every decision revolved around getting through the next moment, the next appointment, the next crisis. My world was small, confined to the reality of my failing heart and the uncertainty of how much longer it could hold on.

But after I woke up, something shifted inside me. The weight of just surviving started to lift, and in its place was a feeling I hadn’t allowed myself to fully embrace in years: possibility.

I wasn’t just waking up from anesthesia; I was waking up to a new reality. A future I wasn’t sure I would ever have. And with that came a responsibility. I didn’t get this second chance just to live quietly in the background. I had to do something with it.

I started asking myself: What now? What do I get to do with this time I was never supposed to have?

This realization deepened in a way I never expected—when I heard my story told back to me by the R&D engineers who had developed the valve that saved my life. As I sat in a room, listening to them describe my case, not just as a medical success but as something profoundly personal to them, I was overwhelmed.

They didn’t see me as just another patient or a statistic. To them, I was a life they had helped save. They shared how my case was so unique, how they had to push the envelope to make the valve work for me. And hearing them speak about it—about the effort, the trial and error, the sleepless nights spent fine-tuning something they hoped would work—I realized something I had never considered before.

"It's not just skill—it’s their passion, their dedication, and their drive to save lives. I’m living proof of their commitment, and I’ll never take that for granted." ~ My Heart Heroes

I felt selfish.

I had always focused on the patient’s side of the story—on the fight, the procedures, the survival. And for good reason—I had lived it, breathed it, endured every agonizing moment of uncertainty. But in that room, I understood for the first time that this wasn’t just my fight.

I had never truly thought about the other side of innovation—the people in labs, at desks, in conference rooms, tirelessly working on a device that, one day, would mean the difference between life and death for someone like me. The weight of responsibility they carried. The long hours. The relentless pursuit of progress, often without ever seeing the faces of the people they were trying to save.

They had dedicated years to perfecting something they would never personally use. Yet here I was—breathing, living, laughing—proof that their work had mattered. Proof that what they did wasn’t just science; it was someone’s second chance. It was my second chance. And I wasn’t just grateful—I was changed.

That moment connected the dots in a way I had never considered before. My survival wasn’t just about me—it was about all of us. The patients. The caregivers. The researchers. The engineers. The advocates. We are all part of this story.

Behind every heartbeat I have today stands a team that refused to accept ‘impossible. Their passion, their dedication, their belief in what could be is why I’m here. I am living proof that their work mattered. And I will never take that for granted.

🥑 I get to advocate. I get to use my story to reach others who feel lost, who feel like there are no options left. I get to be the voice I wish I had when I was drowning in uncertainty.

🥑 I get to educate. Too many people, especially women, go unheard in the medical system, their symptoms dismissed or overlooked. I get to stand up and push for awareness, for research, for change.

🥑 I get to connect. No one should feel as isolated as I once did. If my story can make one person feel seen, if it can help someone find the courage to advocate for themselves, then every struggle, every tear, every moment of doubt was worth it.

🥑 And above all, I get to live. Not just exist. Not just fight to make it through another day. I get to dream again. I get to laugh. I get to cherish every heartbeat, knowing it was a gift I wasn’t supposed to have.

Waking up after my procedure was about more than my heart working again—it was about my purpose coming alive. And now, I’m living every single day with the responsibility to give back. This isn’t just my journey—it’s a commitment to ensuring no one else feels lost or unheard in their own fight. It’s about using my voice to advocate for patients who are dismissed, overlooked, or fighting battles in silence. It’s about honoring those who saved me by making sure their work reaches even more people who need it.

This second chance isn’t just mine to keep—it’s mine to share. Every story I tell, every conversation I have, and every push for awareness is a step toward making sure others get their second chance, too. Because survival is just the beginning—what we do with it is what truly matters.❤️‍🩹🥑

I share my story for those who feel unheard—to remind you that you matter, that hope is real. And for those creating miracles behind the scenes—your work saves lives. I am living proof.

👉 Have you ever experienced a moment that changed everything? A second chance that shifted your perspective? Share your story in the comments—I’d love to hear how life has surprised you.

#PatientVoice #HospiceSurvivor #BeyondTheBreakthrough #TricuspidValveMiracle #WakingUpToPossibility #MedicalTherapyBreakthrough