Lifesavers for Latasha

As I sit here at Cleveland Clinic’s rooftop overlook, I can’t help but think about the first time Latasha and I sat here looking out over downtown Cleveland, Ohio.

We have been coming to Cleveland Clinic’s Main Campus since 2018. I have had two fantastic assignments with the USDA Forest Service at the Allegheny National Forest in Warren, Pennsylvania, the USDA FS Washington Office, and the US Air Force at Wright-Patterson AFB, Ohio. We met some fantastic people and friends and had so many great adventures. Without these two assignments, we would never have been close enough to have had Latasha’s care transferred here. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Tasha and I have spent countless hours on the road and in too many hotels to remember attending appointments, procedures, extended hospital stays, and other associated medical appointments here. We got to try some great restaurants along the way, including her favorite Korean restaurant.

Six years of back and forth. Six years of mini adventures. Six years of building our marriage. Six years of growing our love for each other, six incredible years leading up to her double lung and heart transplant on July 1, 2024.

The one thing that stands out during those six years here and seven years before coming to Cleveland Clinic is Tasha’s commitment to our marriage, my career, our family, our furry babies, and those in our inner circle. Tasha is a selfless woman who always hoped this moment would occur but silently dealt with all the ups and downs of accepting that the transplant most likely wouldn’t happen.

We have been through a lot of highs and lows together. She’s picked me up and dusted me off when I’ve had horrible days and moments. I’ve done the same for her. That’s marriage. That’s love. That’s teamwork. That’s friendship.

It’s a beautiful game of give and take, take and take, give and give, and take and give. It’s marriage on an expert level.

I reflect on this because this strength has driven Tasha to have the courage to fight for a chance at everyday life so she can fight for her dreams. Her dreams are my dreams. Her goals are my goals. Her journey is my journey.

Learning how to be a good man took me a long time. I made mistakes. I did dumb things. I hurt people. I hurt myself. It took the most fantastic woman I’d ever met to teach me more than I can admit. We made a team of two who made each other better and supported each other no matter what.

As I sit here on the rooftop, I recall the first time here and my thoughts. I remember the fears that I had when we shifted from a heart pump to a heart transplant and then to a double lung and heart transplant. Things got serious real quick. My emotions never really caught up. It was a sprint to get here once the process began.

The emotions we have both had. The long conversations. The silent conversations we each have with ourselves. The conversations we had with each other just looked at each other’s eyes. The tears. The laughs. The text conversations. Oh, the text conversations. And don’t forget the arguments, debates, devil’s advocate, what-ifs. There are so many to recall.

But none of those quelled the emotions. None of those helped prepare us. None of the remotely made me ready. But it made me feel comfort that I love this woman. I love her story. I love her journey. I love her strength. I love her compassion. I love her fire. I love her fierceness. I love her patience. I love that she loves me for me and gets me like no one ever will. I love that she let me be part of her story.

If you’ve read this far, the lesson I’ve found in all this beautiful mess is that life is short. Life is precious. Life is amazing. Please don’t waste it being afraid. Please don’t waste it with the wrong person. The right person will support and amplify your life and be there for the good, the bad, the ugly, the weird, and the beautiful.

Life is hard enough, so do the hard work with someone who will help make it easier or less complicated.

The transplant journey is messy. It’s sad. It’s joy. It’s hard. It’s worth it.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of this in one way, shape, or form. You have all made this easier, helped ensure Tasha can live her best life, and helped me be less stressed about things that don’t matter. I can focus my efforts on my love and friend.

I will be eternally grateful for that and spend the rest of my life laying that kindness forward.

And if you’ve made it this far, I like to write and unpack things. It’s my job, so it’s a win-win – until the next mini-novella.