Lifesavers for Latasha

Today marks the 36th day since we returned home from Cleveland, but more importantly, it is the 116th day since Tasha’s heart and double lung transplant. The past few months have been a rollercoaster filled with both joyous moments and, honestly, many more challenging days.

It has truly been a wild ride.

I’ve struggled to communicate these past few weeks as both Tasha and I have been utterly exhausted, mentally worn down, and emotionally broken. Tasha has been dealing with persistent stomach issues, nausea, and vomiting, which seem to be worsening at times. We worry that all the vomiting and lack of protein-rich calories might lead to additional complications. Fortunately, she has a stomach procedure scheduled for November 1. We will travel to Cleveland on the 30th for routine labs, scans, X-rays, breathing tests, and doctor visits. We are hopeful—and perhaps desperately so—that this procedure will provide Tasha with some relief because our current situation is not sustainable.

Here’s some real talk.

Our struggles have been monumental, and I feel like we have fractured our marriage and friendship due to the despair, anger, pity, exhaustion, insomnia, and guilt that have surrounded us. I know that time heals all wounds when the foundation is strong, but this has been a struggle beyond what either of us could have prepared for.

I’ve written a few things in the past weeks to help communicate with Tasha, but I’ve struggled to find their value or even muster the energy to share them. It all boils down to the fact that we are both tired of the endless challenges.

Feeling sorry for myself has never been part of my approach to life, but lately, I’ve found myself questioning many things and asking a lot of angry questions: “Why us?” “When will we get a break?”

We recognize that we were blessed with a second chance at life, but we now find ourselves in an age-old debate over quantity versus quality of life. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but sometimes the dream can cloud our reality and our gratitude for what we have versus what we could lose.

Reading between the lines, it’s clear that it has simply been tough—just plain difficult. Grit or not, being beaten down every day takes its toll.

I sometimes find it both amusing and infuriating when I think about the saying that the stomach is the window to the soul and that it heals all. There may be some truth to that since Tasha has always found joy and expressed love through food. I have been both a recipient and an active participant in that joy. The thought of having permanent stomach issues frightens her because we have dreams of living and traveling abroad, and that involves being adventurous foodies.

And then there’s the dream of opening a bakery—don’t even get me started on that.

Thank you to everyone who keeps reaching out. Even though I may not always have the energy to respond or talk at length, I truly appreciate your support. Please pray for resolution as we work toward November 1.