Good morning, Mr. García, Your new heart just arrived in the hospital. It looks great. We’ll get started soon. ~ Dr. John MacArthur, April 16, 2020

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Sandra, Erica, and I were watching The Voice and spending a nice shelter-in-place evening together. We had just started to enjoy a small scoop of vanilla ice cream when my cell phone began to buzz. It was around 9:30 p.m. The number was that of my cardiologist’s office. The three of us looked at each other, intuitively knowing why the doctor was calling so late.

Our instincts were confirmed. She had called to tell me that Stanford had identified a donor heart that was a “great” match for me. She advised me that I should expect a call within the hour. After forty-five minutes of nervous anticipation, Stanford called with instructions on when and how to report to the hospital.

Once at the hospital, a cardiac nurse started preoperative preparations and gave me some light sedatives to help me relax. Soon, a surgeon walked in and said, “Good morning, Mr. García, Your new heart just arrived in the hospital. It looks great. We’ll get started soon.” The next thing I remember is the same doctor telling me, “Congratulations, Mr. García. You have a new heart! It’s working great. You have a Ferrari in your chest.” I named my new heart “Idaho.”

Just like that, I had a second chance at life. The past 1,460 days have been quite a ride. On my first day at home, I started feeling like the biggest failure in the world. That’s not unusual. About 63% of heart transplant recipients suffer from depression and/or anxiety within the first five years after surgery. I had both. In a big way. I was physically weak and mentally I wasn’t much better. I thought that someone more deserving could make better use of this fresh start.

Sandra and the girls showed their love by encouraging me to soldier on. I responded by reaching out to a physical therapist and a psychologist. One worked on my mind while the other worked on my body. Months of intense therapy gave me a fighting chance to find my way. By my first heartiversary – April 16, 2021 – I was hiking up hills, hitting golf balls, shooting baskets, and didn’t think I was that much of a loser. I’m still working on that last piece. It’s an ongoing process.

I started the second year post-transplant on a high note walking three to four miles every day and meeting with a therapist to work on my psyche once a month. Things looked promising until a special blood test found that my body was rejecting Idaho. Organ rejection is the leading cause of death for transplant recipients. The news was no bueno. The good news is that the blood test detected the rejection before Idaho suffered any major damage. I was back in the game!

Two months after my second heartiversary, I published Summer in the Waiting Room: Faith • Hope • Love. That was a big day! It was also symbolic. The publication date – June 7, 2022 – was exactly twelve years after the massive heart attack that started this health mess I got myself into. I had my first book signing on World Heart Day – September 29, 2022 – at a health center in East San Jose, not far from where I grew up. Even though mostly family and friends were there, I was nervous about speaking in front of people again. It had been more than three years.

I wore traditional gray flannel pants, navy blue blazer, and light blue dress shirt with polished brown dress shoes just like I would have during my career as an executive and school board president. It turned out to be a great evening. For the first time in more than a decade, it felt like I was “back.” Long gone were the days and nights right after the transplant where I found myself in bed in a fetal position with a sore body and broken soul.

It was around this time that Sandra and other loved ones encouraged me to “enjoy life” and do “what makes you happy.” After everything I had been through, I deserved that, they said. To borrow a phrase from my party days, I thought to myself, “don’t threaten me with a good time.” In those days, enjoying life and doing what makes me happy always included unhealthy but great tasting food, plenty of alcohol, and laughing until my cheeks hurt. 

Since two of those three components are no longer at my disposal, I needed to find another way. The successful book signing event reminded me that I have a passion for telling stories and speaking in public. Could I do speaking engagements more often now that I kinda got my speaking mojo back? Or was that a one-time deal with the safety net of mostly family and friends? One thing was clear. I definitely enjoyed myself that evening and had fun. 

Shortly after that, God’s plan revealed itself. Opportunities started coming my way. By my third heartiversay, I was back to doing leadership training with the Latino Leadership Alliance and high school students. I was in front of small groups of professionals and teenagers telling stories and helping people. What followed were speaking opportunities in Washington, D.C., Seattle, and Fresno, four national podcasts, and several webinars. I was enjoying life and having fun! 

So what did Idaho and I do for our fourth birthday together? 

In the morning, we went to my high school alma mater to talk with students on Career Day. Later that afternoon, we met with the ASB student council at Luis Valdez Leadership Academy to brainstorm about a civic engagement project. We spent the evening with my family, the best part of the day. We had a decadent dinner at Olive Garden, and capped the evening binge watching Law and Order: SUV, drinking coffee and eating a strawberry cream pie from McDonald’s. Okay, I slipped a little. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. 

Idaho and I were enjoying life to the fullest and we were doing what made us happy!

We started a new year together the next day with a five-mile hike along Coyote Creek. At the halfway point at Hellyer Lake, I sat on a bench watching the cattails sway in the breeze. I could feel the gentle wind on my face as if God’s hands were caressing my cheeks. He was surely telling me, “that’s how you enjoy life and do what makes you happy.”  At that moment, it all made sense.

I thought about another one of my party day mantras from back in the day, courtesy of George Strait. “I ain’t here for a long time, I’m here for a good time.” Now I have a new formula to enjoy life and do what makes me happy. Hanging out with my family, telling stories to whomever will listen, and public speaking. Sounds like a plan. Hopefully, I can also get in a few laughs until my cheeks hurt.