Full Draw Faith: Randy’s Heart Transplant Journey

There are moments in life when you realize that loyalty, dedication, and a lifetime of giving your very best can apparently mean absolutely nothing to the people you gave it to.

The past two weeks have been one of those moments.

For more than 40 plus years, Randy has given a tremendous portion of his professional life to his job—both as an employee and as a contract pharmacist. Forty years of showing up. Forty years of being dependable. Forty years of giving far more than what was ever required of him, including countless unpaid hours because he believed in the people walking those halls and in the facility itself.

He stayed through ownership changes. He stayed through difficult financial times. He stayed when the hospital closed portions of its emergency room, operating room, and medical-surgical services and transformed its operations. He stayed when it would have been easier to walk away.

He didn’t.

He adapted. He worked. He helped build.

He worked on formularies, policies, procedures, and systems that helped shape what the hospital was—and what it became. He advocated for the facility, staff, and its patients. He mentored people. He helped people find opportunities. He poured knowledge, experience, time, and loyalty into a place that he believed in.

And after 40+ years of that dedication, when Randy experienced medical circumstances that temporarily took him out of the role he had spent his entire career doing, the loyalty suddenly seemed to become one-sided.

That is the part I cannot reconcile.

I am not writing this to bash anyone. I am not writing this to attack an individual. I am not naming names, and I am not going to put private matters or conversations on social media.

But I am going to say that I am deeply disappointed, disgusted, and heartbroken by the way someone who gave four decades of his life to a facility can seemingly be discarded when he is the one who needs understanding.

And perhaps what hurts even more is the personal betrayal that has come with it.

Someone Randy considered a friend. Someone he mentored. Someone he encouraged, advocated for, and helped support professionally has now become part of a situation in which Randy feels as though he has been pushed aside from something he spent decades helping build.

There is a difference between making a business decision and making a person feel as though their entire history of service never mattered.

Randy deserved better.

He deserved respect.

He deserved consideration.

He deserved to have his 40+ years of loyalty remembered when circumstances changed.

Instead, he has been left feeling like he was simply discarded and forgotten.

And I will be honest: as his wife, after watching everything this man has endured this year, watching him fight through circumstances that could have taken his life, and watching him continue to try to find his way back to the career he has loved for more than four decades, I am struggling tremendously with this one.

I have spent my entire professional life believing that people should be treated with dignity, especially when they are vulnerable.

I believe that still.

But I also believe people have a right to ask questions when something doesn’t feel right.

And unfortunately, this is simply where we are.

We have never been the people who run to Facebook to tear someone down. We have never believed that airing every private battle publicly was the right thing to do.

But there comes a point when silence starts to feel like accepting something that you know isn’t right.

So today, I am speaking—not out of hatred, but out of disappointment, hurt, and an overwhelming sense of injustice.

A person’s worth should never be measured solely by what they can do for you.

And after 40+ years of giving everything he had to a place and the people inside it, Randy deserved to be remembered as more than an employee whose services were no longer convenient.

He deserved to be remembered as the man who showed up.

The man who stayed.

The man who gave.

The man who helped build.

The man who never stopped being loyal.

And sometimes, the hardest lesson in life is learning that the loyalty you gave so freely was never being returned.

Forty years should mean something.

To us, it always will.

If you know me, you know there are a few things I take VERY seriously… and good food is one of them! 😂🥩🍗

But let me tell y’all about Simply Fresh Foods because this freezer is proof of just how much I LOVE them!

We have been customers for a while now, and the quality, selection, convenience, and sheer amount of food you can get stocked away is AMAZING. Their meats are high quality, their meals are delicious, and having a freezer full of food means I can actually answer the dreaded question: “What are we eating tonight?” without having a complete meltdown. 😂

BUT… there is another reason Simply Fresh Foods will ALWAYS have a special place in my heart.

When Randy had his massive heart attack in January and our entire world was turned upside down, we suddenly had much bigger things to worry about than a grocery bill. He spent 51 days in the hospital, went through a heart transplant, rehabilitation, and then we came home trying to figure out what our new normal even looked like.

During that time, Simply Fresh Foods deferred our payments until May.

They didn’t have to do that.

They could have simply been a business collecting a payment. Instead, they saw a family going through an unimaginable season and gave us something incredibly valuable: TIME.

Time to breathe.
Time to heal.
Time to adjust.
Time to figure out how to live in our new normal without having to worry about whether we could continue putting good, quality food on our table.

That gesture meant more to us than they will probably ever know. ❤️

And now, several months later, here we are… FREEZER FULL. 😂🙌🏼

Full of meat, vegetables, meals, and enough food to feed this crazy family for a good while!

So this isn’t just a post about how awesome their food is—although IT REALLY IS! This is a public thank-you to a company that showed us kindness when our family needed it most.

Simply Fresh Foods, thank you for taking care of your customers like PEOPLE and not just account numbers. Your kindness during the hardest season of our lives will never be forgotten.

And if you’re looking for a way to stock your freezer with high-quality food, save yourself some grocery-store headaches, and have plenty of options on those nights when you just don’t have the energy to cook… give them a try!

Because when a company takes care of you when you’re at your lowest, you remember them when you’re back on your feet. ❤️

10/10 recommend. And apparently, I recommend buying enough to fill an entire freezer. 😂😂

Thank you, Simply Fresh Foods. Y’all are the real deal. ❤️🥩🍗🥦

Caregiver Chronicles | Standing Watch for Him

I don’t think I ever really processed everything that happened this year.

When Randy was fighting for his life, there wasn’t time to fall apart. For 52 days at Emory, every ounce of my energy was spent praying, making decisions, advocating, hoping, and simply surviving. When we finally came home, I didn’t cry. I didn’t celebrate. I didn’t really feel much of anything. I was emotionally numb. Not because I didn’t care, but because I think my heart had exhausted every emotion it had trying to keep the man I love alive.

Then came Garlan Ray’s graduation. Everyone asked me how I was doing, and I honestly thought I was okay. I smiled, celebrated, and convinced myself I had handled another milestone.

I was wrong.

This Saturday, I move my baby into college.

He’s my last one. My baby. One of my very best friends.

And suddenly, all of those emotions that I never dealt with have come crashing down on me at the exact same time. The weight of almost losing my husband… and now watching my youngest spread his wings… it feels like my heart doesn’t know which grief to carry first.

People tell me all the time, “You’re so strong.”

The truth is… I’m tired of being strong.

I’m not okay.

Today I completely broke down in the middle of a conversation with Garlan Ray… over socks. Socks. Because it wasn’t about the socks. It was about realizing that I’m packing up the little boy whose socks I used to buy without a second thought, and in just a few days, he’ll be starting a life that doesn’t need me in quite the same way anymore.

I know this is what we’ve prayed for. I know this is exactly what parents are supposed to do. I know he’ll thrive, and I couldn’t be prouder of the young man he has become.

But tonight, if I’m being completely honest, this mama’s heart is breaking a little.

So if I seem a little emotional over the next few days… just know it’s because loving deeply means feeling deeply. And while I’m incredibly thankful for all God has brought us through this year, I’m learning that sometimes surviving one storm doesn’t mean you’re finished grieving before the next season begins. 💙

There are some victories that only make sense when you know the battles that came before them.

When Randy suffered his massive heart attack on New Year’s Day, our lives changed in an instant. We entered a world of uncertainty that neither of us could have imagined. There were moments when we didn’t know if he would survive the night. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. There were machines keeping him alive, endless procedures, setbacks, victories, tears, prayers, and countless moments where the only thing we could do was place our faith in God.

Receiving the gift of a new heart was nothing short of a miracle.

But as many transplant families know, the transplant isn’t the finish line—it’s the beginning of a new journey.

One of the greatest challenges since Randy’s transplant has been finding the right balance of immunosuppressant medications. Every medication adjustment has been a careful balancing act between protecting his new heart and managing the side effects that came with those medications. There have been more lab draws than we can count, biopsies, medication changes, doctor’s appointments, hospital visits, and days when it felt like we had traded one mountain for another.

That’s why today’s update feels so special.

For the first time since this journey began, it truly feels like we’ve found a combination of medications that is allowing Randy to not just survive—but to live. We know things can change, and we know transplant is a lifelong journey that will always require vigilance. But right now, we are incredibly thankful for this season of stability.

This past weekend, our family was able to take a vacation together. We spent hours on a boat in the middle of the ocean—something that seemed unimaginable just a few short months ago.

Of course, transplant life never takes a vacation. We were still careful with infection control, hand hygiene, medications, and protecting Randy from unnecessary risks. Those precautions are now simply part of our everyday life.

But for a little while… we weren’t consumed by fear.

We watched Randy laugh, fish, enjoy the salt air, and simply be present with the people he loves. There were no hospital walls around us. No monitors. No alarms. No waiting on lab results or biopsy reports. Just God’s incredible creation, our family together, and the overwhelming realization that this beautiful day almost wasn’t possible.

Moments like these remind us just how faithful God has been.

We also want to thank every single person who has continued to walk beside us. This week we received a prayer card from Unadilla Baptist Church, and it touched our hearts more than you know. That church is filled with people we love dearly—friends who have become family—and your continued prayers mean more than words could ever express.

To every person who has prayed for Randy since January, sent a card, checked on us, encouraged us, cried with us, celebrated with us, or simply whispered our names to God when you didn’t know what else to pray… thank you.

You have carried us.

This road is lifelong. Randy will always be a heart transplant recipient. There will always be medications, appointments, lab work, biopsies, and unknowns. But knowing we have so many people faithfully praying alongside us gives us strength on the days we don’t feel strong. Your love has made us braver than we ever thought we could be.

Please continue praying for Randy—for continued healing, wisdom for his transplant team as they continue to fine-tune his medications, protection from infection, and for many more moments where he can simply enjoy the incredible gift of life that God, his donor, and so many miracles have made possible.

We will never stop being grateful.

“I will give thanks to You, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all Your wonderful deeds.” — Psalm 9:

“Colossians 2:6-7 says to continue living in Christ Jesus just as He was received as Lord, being rooted, built up, strengthened in the faith, and overflowing with thankfulness.”

If you’re not using social media for this kind of content… then what are you even here for? 😂 Because this absolutely cracks me up! And if I’m being honest, I could use every bit of joyful laughter I can get right now.

Randy and I are officially on VACATION!! 🎉☀️🌊

For the first time since Randy’s heart transplant, we’re stepping away for five whole days. Five days to breathe. Five days to slow down. Five days to simply be together.

It feels almost strange because I don’t think I’ve stopped pressing “go” in what feels like forever. Between hospitals, rehab, work, appointments, life, and everything in between, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to truly let go. But I am so ready… and this time away is needed more than I can put into words.

This trip is extra special because it’s also our last big family vacation before Garlan heads off to the University of North Georgia. We’re going to celebrate this next chapter the best way we know how—with sand between our toes, fishing poles in our hands, the ocean all around us, and every one of my favorite people together making memories I’ll treasure forever.

But more than anything… my heart is overflowing because Randy is here.

He’s not in a hospital bed.
He’s not connected to machines.
He’s not fighting for another day.

He’s standing beside me, packing for vacation.

After everything we’ve walked through this year, I don’t take a single moment for granted. We’re not waiting for “someday.” We’re living this moment in real time, together. And that is a gift I’ll never stop thanking God for.

Here’s to sunsets, salty air, belly laughs, family, and making memories that will last a lifetime. ❤️

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24

www.tiktok.com

A Picture Is Worth More Than a Thousand Words… Sometimes It’s a Lifetime of Them.

Every year, around the Fourth of July, I find myself looking back through an album on my page simply called “The Eye.”

Most people see old pictures.

I relive a moment that forever divided my life into before and after.

One firework.

One split second.

One decision.

One eye that would never see again.

For years, I wondered why God would allow something so devastating to happen. I struggled with the fear, the trauma, and the constant reminder every time I looked in the mirror. I couldn’t understand why my story had to include that chapter.

Now I know.

Sometimes our deepest wounds become our loudest warnings.

Then came this year.

On New Year’s Day, Randy suffered a massive heart attack. In a matter of hours, our world came crashing down. We faced ECMO, an Impella, dialysis, ventilators, uncertainty, and ultimately the miracle of a heart transplant. We spent 51 days in the hospital, wondering if the next phone call, the next procedure, or the next complication would change everything.

We’ve celebrated victories that once seemed impossible. We’ve cried more tears than I knew one heart could hold. We’ve learned to thank God for things most people never have to think about—another sunrise, another heartbeat, another biopsy with good news, another day together.

This year has reminded me that life can change in an instant.

Sometimes it’s a firework.

Sometimes it’s a heart attack.

Neither sends a warning.

So today, this isn’t about taking away anyone’s fun or telling people how to celebrate. It’s simply a heartfelt plea from someone who has lived on both sides of tragedy.

Please don’t underestimate fireworks.

Please protect your eyes.

Please keep children back.

Please don’t relight a firework that didn’t go off.

Please remember that no celebration is worth a lifetime of regret.

I would give anything to have the vision I lost.

I would give anything to erase the fear our family experienced this year.

But since I can’t change either story, I can share them.

If my testimony causes just one family to be a little more careful… if one child keeps their eyesight… if one person decides to leave the fireworks to the professionals… then perhaps God is still using some of the hardest chapters of our lives for His glory.

This Fourth of July, celebrate our freedom with gratitude, hug your family a little tighter, and remember that tomorrow is never promised.

As Scripture reminds us:

“Teach us to number our days carefully so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.” — Psalm 90:12

From our family to yours, have a safe and blessed Independence Day. ❤️🇺🇸

UPDATE: We Finally Have Some Answers… Now We Need Wisdom for the Next Step.

First and foremost, thank you.

Thank you for every prayer, every message, every encouraging word, and for continuing to stand watch with our family. We have felt the Lord carrying us through every step of this journey, and we know so many of you have been faithfully praying right alongside us.

After weeks of unanswered questions, hospitalizations, testing, and waiting, we finally received the pathology results from Randy’s colonoscopy.

The colonoscopy itself looked normal, but the biopsies told a different story.

The pathologist believes Randy’s severe diarrhea is most consistent with colitis caused by one of his anti-rejection medications, Mycophenolate (MMF/CellCept).

While no one wants to hear that a medication is causing problems, we are incredibly thankful to finally have a direction. His biopsy showed damage and inflammation that is characteristic of this medication, and it explains so much of what we’ve been walking through these past several weeks.

It explains the relentless diarrhea…

The dehydration…

The electrolyte imbalances…

The kidney injury from losing so much fluid…

The repeated hospitalizations, all while his new heart continued to look strong.

For so long it felt like every test came back saying everything looked good, yet Randy kept getting sicker. These biopsy results finally connect those pieces together.

Now comes another delicate balancing act.

The transplant team has to protect Randy’s new heart while also determining how to treat the medication that appears to be injuring his colon. Because he is only months out from receiving the greatest earthly gift imaginable—a new heart—any changes to his anti-rejection medications must be made very carefully and prayerfully.

We will be heading back to Emory on Wednesday for follow-up appointments to discuss these results and determine what the next steps will be.

Today, I’m asking for very specific prayers.

Please pray for wisdom for Randy’s transplant team. Pray that God would give them complete clarity in knowing exactly how to protect his transplanted heart while bringing healing to his colon. Pray that they would have discernment, unity, and confidence in every decision they make.

And please pray for us.

We desperately need answers right now. We are praying that this is the turning point we’ve been asking God for—that this diagnosis provides a path forward and that Randy can finally begin to heal, regain his strength, and move beyond this difficult chapter.

The Lord has carried us through a heart attack, ECMO, a heart transplant, rehabilitation, and countless unexpected obstacles. He has never once left our side. We believe He is still writing Randy’s story, and we trust that He is already in Wednesday’s appointment before we ever arrive.

Thank you for continuing to stand watch with us. We are so grateful for each one of you.

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” — Isaiah 30:21

Caregiver Chronicles | Standing Watch for Him

Just for clarity—I am still working through a TON of trauma.

I have so much I want to tell you guys about what this experience has felt like, not just during the heart attack, ECMO, CRRT, ventilator, VT storm, and transplant, but everything that has come after. One day, I hope to put it all into words. But the truth is, I am still processing it myself.

I think there is a misconception that once the transplant happens and you leave the hospital, life goes back to normal. That the hard part is over.

It isn’t.

Don’t get me wrong—we are incredibly grateful. Randy is alive. That alone is a miracle that I will never stop thanking God for.

But transplant isn’t the finish line. In many ways, it’s the beginning of a new journey filled with medications, biopsies, lab work, clinic appointments, setbacks, scares, complications, and a level of uncertainty that is difficult to explain unless you’ve lived it.

I keep thinking I’ve finally gotten my feet back under me. I think I’ve caught up on life. I think I’ve settled into a routine. I think maybe this week will feel normal.

And then something else in the transplant world rears its ugly head.

A lab value changes.

A new symptom appears.

A medication adjustment is needed.

A procedure is scheduled.

A phone call comes.

And suddenly, I’m reminded that our lives will never be exactly what they were before January 1st.

The reality is that while Randy was fighting for his life, our entire world stopped. Life as we knew it ceased to exist. And while everyone else eventually returned to their routines, we have been trying to build a new one while carrying the weight of everything we’ve been through.

Some days I feel strong.

Some days I feel exhausted.

Some days I feel incredibly grateful.

Some days I find myself reliving moments I wish I could forget.

And I think all of that is okay.

Healing isn’t just physical. It isn’t just for the patient. Families, caregivers, spouses, and loved ones carry wounds too. Some of them are visible. Most of them are not.

So if I seem quiet sometimes, or if I haven’t shared all the things God is teaching me through this journey yet, it’s because I’m still walking through it. I’m still learning. I’m still healing.

But I can tell you this: God has been faithful through every stage of this journey—not just the dramatic moments that everyone saw, but also the difficult days afterward that few people ever hear about.

And for now, I’ll keep doing what I’ve done since the beginning.

Standing watch.

One day, one prayer, and one step at a time.

Caregiver Chronicles | Standing Watch for Him

It has been awhile since I have posted one of these— the post that is raw and exposes me entirely— but here are my thoughts today that I wanted to share….

As a nurse, I have spent my career caring for people in some of the hardest moments of their lives. I’ve worked in hospitals, led clinical teams, sat at conference tables making difficult decisions, and stood at countless bedsides. I’ve seen emergencies. I’ve seen miracles. I’ve seen loss. I’ve spent years learning the language of medicine and understanding what happens when the human body begins to fail.

But even with all of that experience, ECMO was different.

CRRT was different.

A ventricular tachycardia storm was different.

These aren’t things most people encounter, and truthfully, they aren’t things most nurses encounter either. They exist in a world of highly specialized critical care where entire teams are dedicated to keeping a single person alive one moment at a time.

Before Randy, those were things I understood academically.

After Randy, they became things I lived.

When the doctors started talking about ECMO, I knew enough to understand what it meant. This wasn’t a routine intervention. This was the kind of treatment used when every second matters and every available resource is being thrown into the fight.

When CRRT was added, I understood the gravity of that too.

When the ventilator became necessary, I knew what that meant.

And when his heart entered a ventricular tachycardia storm, I didn’t need anyone to explain how serious the situation was.

As a wife, I desperately wanted reassurance.

As a nurse, I understood why no one could give it.

People often tell me they don’t know how I’ve done it. The truth is, there were many days I didn’t think I could. There were moments when I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and afraid of what the next phone call or doctor’s update might bring. But every morning God gave me enough grace for that day. Not for next week. Not for next month. Just for that day. And somehow, day by day, prayer by prayer, He carried us through. If this journey has taught me anything, it is that God’s faithfulness is not something we simply talk about on the good days. It is something we discover in the hardest days. And for that reason, I will keep standing watch—not just over Randy, but over the countless ways God continues to work in our story.