Full Draw Faith: Randy’s Heart Transplant Journey

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

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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.

Standing Watch for Him

Some days the victories are loud, and some days they come wrapped in uncertainty.

Today was one of those days.

After months of relentless diarrhea, nearly 40 pounds of weight loss, dehydration, malnutrition, and countless tests that seemed to lead nowhere, Randy underwent a colonoscopy at Emory. Going into the procedure, we prayed for answers. Not necessarily the answers we wanted—but answers nonetheless.

The doctors found widespread inflammation throughout his colon, along with ulcerations and irritation that could explain many of the symptoms he has been battling. They also found a large polyp that will need to be addressed later, once the inflammation is under control. Multiple biopsies were taken, and now we wait.

Waiting has become familiar territory for us.

Waiting for test results.
Waiting for biopsy reports.
Waiting for treatment plans.
Waiting to see what God is doing when we cannot yet see the full picture.

But as I sat tonight reflecting on all that Randy has endured this year—the heart attack, ECMO, the transplant, rehabilitation, kidney issues, and now this—I was reminded of something important. This report wasn’t a dead end. It was a step closer to understanding what has been stealing his strength.

His transplanted heart is doing well.
His kidney function has improved.
The procedure went smoothly.
And now we have something concrete for the doctors to investigate.

So tonight, while we wait for the biopsy results, I am choosing gratitude over fear and faith over frustration.

Standing watch for him has taught me that God’s answers don’t always arrive all at once. Sometimes He gives just enough light for the next step.

“The LORD will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” — Exodus 14:14

Please continue to pray for Randy—that the biopsy results provide clear answers, that the inflammation is treatable, that his body begins to heal, and that God continues to strengthen him for the road ahead.

As always, thank you for standing watch with us. ❤️🙏🏻

🏹 Full Draw Faith Update 🏹

We are HOME!!! Praise the Lord! 🙌🏻❤️

After today’s colonoscopy, we still don’t have all the answers, but we are grateful to be back home together. The doctors took several biopsies during the procedure, and they told us it will likely be about a week before those results come back.

In the meantime, we are moving forward by making dietary changes and treating Randy’s symptoms as if they are related to Dumping Syndrome while we wait for more information.

The good news is that Randy’s heart and kidneys are back to normal and looking good! After everything he has been through this year, that is an incredible blessing and a reminder of God’s faithfulness every step of the way.

While we would love to have a clear answer today, we know that God is already there in the waiting. We will continue to trust Him, follow the doctors’ recommendations, and take things one day at a time.

Thank you for every prayer, message, and word of encouragement. Please continue praying that these biopsy results provide the answers we have been searching for and that Randy’s body will begin to heal and regain strength.

“But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me.” — Micah 7:7 ❤️