Lifesavers for Latasha

As Latasha recovers from her Heart and Lung Transplant (HLT), she is gaining her strength back and getting more mobile, and as the doctors take out bandages and tubes, it reveals the scars of the HLT journey.

The funny thing about scars is that they leave a reminder of an event and the emotions that surround it for the world and loved ones to see. As most know all too well, most scars, and frankly, the ones that hurt the most, are hidden and never revealed to most of those around us.

I’ve been reflecting on this for the past few days because the most painful scars I have are hidden. They’re buried deep down, and only one person knows most of them. If you guessed right, that person is Tasha. She’s always been my confidante and the one I’ve always trusted.

The most risky thing about marriage and trust is revealing deep, painful things to the other person, hoping and trusting that they’ll never use that as ammunition during a fight or emotionally charged situation. That level of relationship trust is when marriage is a team sport.

I look at Tasha’s scars and feel immense pride because of her bravery. Her warrior spirit has made me see her scars as badges of honor and symbols of life—symbols of love, hope, and never giving up.

The irony of scars is that they carry a heavy weight and toll on the person who bears them and those closest to them. I always found Tasha’s scars beautiful for the reasons I mentioned before, but now they represent far more: they also represent someone else’s life lost to have life gained.

That’s heavy beyond any scale. It brings responsibility and ownership of those organs’ future—a responsibility not to squander such a gift, an obligation to pay it forward.

It also brings immense pressure and weight, so we cannot waste the opportunity. It is a lot to process and a lot to express fully. Although this is my opinion based on my experience, I can comfortably say that Tasha feels the same way. I am excited for her to regain her strength and fully express all this through her writing.

Ever since Tasha moved to the step-down unit, I have been reminded of this every time I walk the hallways. I see the gift of life everywhere I look—beautiful scars everywhere, lives improved and gained, and futures, dreams, and goals ready to be achieved. It is truly awe-inspiring to witness. My commitment to Tasha and her finishing this HLT marathon is more committed than ever.

The weight of that feels heavy and unbearable sometimes. Still, as we navigate the coming weeks through education and experience, I anticipate these feelings will be in the rearview mirror and a lesson I can share with others.