Tag Archives: love

Happy Idaho Day: Part 6

Happy Idaho Day!

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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!

At a Crossroads

Eddie García graciously shared his inspirational journey with our leaders. His relatable stories, wisdom, and experiences resonated with our leadership team and inspired us to continue performing at a high level. ~Rigo Topete, Regional Vice President Sales & Marketing, Comcast Pacific Northwest Region

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I nervously walked into a hotel banquet room full of sales executives and managers in Olympia, Washington. The group was named the top performing sales team in the Pacific Northwest the year before. Company executives expected the team to repeat as the region’s most prolific sales team by exceeding its record-breaking performance from the previous year. The stakes were high. The company invited me to share my story and help inspire sales leaders to meet the moment.

My pregame jitters came from the fact that there were 100 or so seasoned professionals in the room who had “been there and done that.” What could I say that they probably hadn’t already heard? I prepped tirelessly for weeks to make sure I would deliver a unique and meaningful speech. I decided to start my remarks by developing a relationship with those in attendance by telling a story about how their beloved Seattle Seahawks faced similar expectations and challenges the season after winning Super Bowl XLVIII in 2014.

Many in the audience shook their heads at that memory, smiled, and acknowledged my presence on stage. It was calming and gave me the confidence to share my story. I moved along and talked about the challenges of suffering a massive heart attack, living a decade with heart failure, and managing a heart transplant. 

I described how accepting God’s will is the foundation of faith and how rejoicing in my suffering led to hope by giving me the endurance and character needed to survive. Ultimately, it was unselfish love for Sandra and the girls that gave me the courage to fight day in and day out. The moral to my health crisis story, I emphasized, was how the power of faith, hope, and love carried me through that difficult time.

I urged the group to consider using that formula to lead their teams to another award winning year. They should have faith by accepting the fact that expectations were high and other teams were gunning for them. Rejoicing in that challenge would help them persevere through ups and downs, strengthen the team’s character, and turn hope into an action word, instead of an empty desire. I expressed how giving oneself for the sake of others is the very definition of love. By having each other’s backs, rather than infighting, unselfish teamwork would carry them across the finish line. 

When I concluded my remarks about 20 minutes later, the executives and managers rose to their feet in a rousing standing ovation. I was overwhelmed by the reaction and relieved that the mission was accomplished. After 30 minutes or so of taking questions, I headed to a table at the back of the room to sign books. I took time to talk with each and every person who wanted to share a story about family members with heart disease, cancer, and other chronic illnesses. With a story about conquering her own battle with cancer, one woman and I rejoiced together in our blessings.

On the flight back to San Jose, I reflected on the day and the meaningful conversations with amazing leaders. First and foremost, I felt gratitude for being able to touch the lives of others. I love being on stage and sharing my story to inspire people to persevere through life’s challenges. Another thought running through my mind was singularly selfish. Professional speakers make anywhere from $5,000 to $25,000 for doing exactly what I did in Olympia. My compensation for that appearance was nominal by comparison. 

Those thoughts and calculations came and went before landing at San Jose Mineta International Airport. Since that time, ideas about becoming a professional speaker have crossed my mind many times. My reasoning always begins with the opportunity to share my inspirational story with a wide audience and delves into potential financial gain. That’s where any further consideration of the idea slowly slips away.

I know what it takes to be a professional at anything, especially if the goal is to be the best I can be. It involves taking risks, hard work, and full commitment. At my age (60 years old) and because of the harrowing health journey I’ve endured, I’m just not sure I’m prepared to do what it takes to start a successful inspirational speaker business. I go back and forth in my mind analyzing the pros and cons of such an endeavor. So far, the cons are winning the day.

Recently, I became aware of a local organization in the market for an inspirational speaker. The proposed budget was around $7,500. The wheels in my head started turning and my stomach churned with excitement. I could do it, and for much less! I thought a second about offering my services before ultimately deciding not to speak up. I’m not sure why.

After thinking about why I didn’t make the offer, two things came to mind. First, the old imposter syndrome demons began to creep in because I wasn’t even considered. Maybe I’m not worth that amount of money and I’m just a legend in my own mind, the demons whispered into my ear. My previous speaking engagements told a different story. All audiences I’ve addressed react in the same enthusiastic way as the leadership team in Olympia. So maybe it wasn’t those old negative thoughts in action that kept me silent.

The second reason is that perhaps subconsciously I didn’t want to open a can or worms that couldn’t be closed. Could securing that speaking opportunity have been a slippery slope toward risk taking, working hard, and being completely dedicated to the work again? I’ve been down that path and it didn’t go so well for me or for my family. Nevertheless, the conversation put me in a self-imposed crossroads for a few days. 

I spent those days praying and reflecting on what really mattered. Was my ego tugging at my better senses? Yeah it was a little of that. Was it the potential financial gain? Yeah, of course. Who can’t use more money? Was it the fear that my inspirational story will never reach the masses? Yeah, that’s a biggie for sure. In the end, as always, it was faith, hope, and love that carried the day. 

If God wants me to be a professional speaker, He’ll let me know and I’ll do my part. In the meantime, I’ll rejoice in my suffering, fully accepting that I’m a great storyteller who isn’t on a big stage. I’ll persevere by seeking opportunities to speak at small gatherings and local events. Character, confidence, and commitment to the cause of inspiring others will strengthen my resolve and give me hope to keep sharing my story.

Between speaking opportunities, I’ll be home spending time with my family, washing dishes, folding clothes, and making dinner from time to time. I’ll also keep working on community passion projects by coaching emerging Latino and Latina civc leaders, teaching high schoolers about leadership, and advocating for my fellow transplant recipients. I’ll get in some reading and writing too. At the moment, this seems like God’s plan for me. I’m happy to do my part to fulfill His plan as best as I can, and I’m grateful that He guided me through the crossroads.