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Congratulations, Mr. Garcia. You have a new heart! It’s working great. You have a Ferrari in your chest. ~Dr. John MacArthur, Stanford Hospital, April 16, 2020

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I think about Idaho every day. If you don’t know Idaho, you can meet him by clicking here. He’s my ride-or-die partner. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is thank God for Idaho. If I have to catch my breath while exercising, I think… uh-oh, is Idaho OK?

I want to talk about him all the time, too, but keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want family and friends to feel like Jan Brady. “Idaho, Idaho, Idaho.”

Idaho came into my life (and my chest) six years ago today. I’ll never forget the surgeon’s big smile. I’ll never forget his words. “Congratulations, Mr. Garcia. You have a new heart! It’s working great. You have a Ferrari in your chest.” He was happy. I was confused. 

Confusion quickly morphed into depression, the deep kind. Idaho saved my life. I believed that I had ruined it. I could no longer provide for my family in the same way and at the same financial level. I would be a burden. I no longer provided value to others. I had no worth. Idaho kept ticking.

I was lonely. People were struggling with COVID. They didn’t have Idaho (or me!) on their minds. My phone stopped ringing. I sank deeper into the abyss of self-doubt. Despite my foul mood (actually, acting like an ass might be more accurate), Sandra, Marisa, and Erica cheered us on. Idaho kept ticking.

It was a rocky start. The daily follow-up appointments with the great post-transplant team at Kaiser Santa Clara soon became weekly, then monthly appointments. The numbers looked great. Idaho was strong. Although I wanted to give up, Idaho kept ticking.

The amazing nurse practitioner managing my case gave me the tools to keep Idaho healthy and strong. Taking immunosuppressant meds three times a day, walking at least 30 minutes every day, and eating a heart-healthy diet consumed my life. I still didn’t feel well. Idaho kept ticking. 

Sandra suggested psychotherapy. My macho Latino mind said, “I don’t think so.” The nurse practitioner agreed. My therapist was a godsend. She helped me recognize that I wasn’t a failure. I wasn’t worthless. I wasn’t a burden. It took many psychology exercises and a couple of years to get to that point. Idaho kept ticking.

As my mind cleared, I could feel Idaho’s strength and energy. My walks soon became hikes on hilly trails. With an uncluttered mind, I turned to things I love doing. Reading, writing, and thinking occupied my days. I was working again, but not getting paid. And that was ok. Idaho kept ticking.

Working and not getting paid? What a novel thought! That didn’t register in my 48 Viewmont Avenue mind. More therapy. More psych exercises. I started having fun. Idaho and I had a miraculous story. We could give people hope by sharing it with the world. As my thoughts swirled with ideas, Idaho kept ticking.

We published Summer in the Waiting Room: Faith ∙ Hope ∙ Love on the 12th anniversary of the heart attack that started my heart failure journey. The phone started ringing again. “Would you like to travel to Washington, D.C. to advocate for transplant patients?” asked the person on the other line. Idaho kept ticking.

We walked up and down Capitol Hill, sharing our story. Idaho performed like a champ. The phone kept ringing. Speaking to a group of sales execs in Seattle, we got a standing “O.” We shared our story virtually with groups in Connecticut, Michigan, and Southern California. Last month, we shared our story with 2,400 people – friends and families of organ donors – at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Midtown Manhattan. This East Side Catholic boy still can’t wrap my mind around that. Idaho kept ticking. 

Spending time with Sandra, Marisa, and Erica became more meaningful as I began to accept that being the breadwinner didn’t define me as a husband or a father. Sandra and I have gone on getaways to Philadelphia, Seattle, and Cancun. We often have dinner together as I listen to the school superintendent, political consultant, and high school art teacher regale me with stories about their challenging, yet rewarding, days. Idaho kept ticking.

Is life now perfect? Nope. Not by a long shot. I’m a worrier. I still worry. I still have this ingrained belief that I have to do more. I still wonder how long Idaho will keep me going. The chaos in our world makes me anxious. As gas and grocery prices continue to skyrocket, money again is seeping into my thoughts. Idaho keeps ticking.

The good news is that my 6th annual post-transplant evaluation showed that Idaho is still working like a Ferrari. Taking care of a transplanted organ requires discipline, commitment, and hard work. The better news is that Sandra, Marisa, and Erica still give me hope and purpose to keep soldiering on. The best news is that Idaho is still ticking!

Happy 6th Heartiversary, my friend!