One Week Out: What I’m Carrying Into My Heart Surgery

One week from now, I’ll be on an operating table. My chest open and my heart literally in someone else’s hands. It’s surreal, even after months of preparation. I’ve known this day was coming, but now that it’s right in front of me, it hits differently.

This isn’t just a procedure, I’m hoping that it’s a full reset on life as I’ve known it. It’s not one I asked for, but I pushed for answers when something felt off, and that decision might’ve saved my life. I’ve said this so many times since finding out what I have, the biggest thing I’ll take away from this whole situation is that you need to advocate for yourself! My heart disease hid behind years of being told it was “just long COVID” or “just stress” or “just your anxiety”. But I knew something wasn’t right. I felt it. And I kept pushing for answers until someone finally listened.

If something feels off in your body, don’t ignore it. Don’t settle for half-answers. Ask for the tests. Ask again if you need to. Advocate for yourself like your life depends on it… because it just might.

Slowing Down When You Don’t Want To

Training has been part of my identity for as long as I can remember. It’s how I stay sane. It’s how I’ve coped with anxiety, how I show up for the people I coach, how I feel like me.

But lately, the gym hasn’t felt like therapy. It’s felt like a reminder that I’m not who I was six months ago… a year ago… four years ago…

I can’t push hard. I gas out fast. My heart rate goes from 60 BPM to 130 BPM if I try to spring 10 steps. This isn’t me and it’s breaking my heart… dad joke intended! I’ve had to scale everything back and accept a version of myself that isn’t built for performance right now. That’s a hard pill to swallow when your whole life has revolved around strength and resilience.

Still, I’ve kept moving this whole time when I could. And when I couldn’t, I’ve tried to give myself some grace. It hasn’t been easy, it hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been honest.

The Weight You Don’t See

Everyone asks how I’m feeling physically. Not many ask how I’m holding up mentally and that’s OK. But if I’m being honest, that’s been the harder part for sure! There’s fear in this. And not just the fear of the procedure, but the fear of the unknown after, and how it’ll affect my ability to be the dad. I think that’s the part that fucks me up the most.

But no matter what, I show up every day for my family. Some days, I’m holding it together with faith. Other days, it’s sarcasm, snacks, and grit. But I’m still here. Still showing up, and I always will

My Why: My Boys, My Baby Girl, and My Faith

There are two little boys who have no idea just how much they keep me grounded.

They are loud, chaotic, and crazy, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every time I feel like this is too much, I remember why I’m doing this. For them. For the wrestling matches in the living room. For the school drop-offs. For the way they light up when we train together. They’ve had to carry more than most kids should emotionally, and they’ve handled it with a kind of resilience I admire.

And then there’s the little girl on the way. She’ll be here in November, and I haven’t even met her yet, but she’s already changed the way I see my life (once again). I want to be here for the long haul. For the dance recitals. For the bedtime stories. To scare the shit out of any boy who comes knocking at her door. For all of it.

I believe in God’s timing, even when I don’t understand it. I’ve leaned hard on my faith through this. Some nights it’s the only thing that helps me sleep. I know I’m not walking through this alone. I know there’s purpose in the pain, even if I can’t see the full picture yet. God has a plan, and I’m always along for the ride.

What Comes Next

I won’t be in the gym for a while. I won’t be coaching on the mats. I won’t be lifting, pushing, or grinding the way I’m used to, but I’m kind of use to that by now. Initially it really messed with my head, but I’m starting to accept that healing doesn’t look like hustle. Recovery is work too.

What I will be doing is focusing on what matters most. Rest. Reflection. Family. Getting my mind and body back one day at a time. And when I’m ready, I’ll be back… stronger in ways that have nothing to do with weights.

The Truth

This past season has been heavy. I’m tired. I’m anxious. I’m uncomfortable. But I’m also clear on what I’m fighting for.

This isn’t a dramatic post. It’s just where I’m at. A little raw. A little worn. But still standing.

If you’re reading this, thank you for walking this road with me. Your support, your messages, your prayers, they’ve mattered more than you probably realize.

Next week is a new chapter. But today, I’m still here. And for now, that’s enough.