Life Just Got Very Real: Surgery Date, Fatherhood, and a Fundraiser

If you’re new here, I’ve been sharing my journey with a congenital heart defect called Bicuspid Aortic Valve (BAV) since February. From the diagnosis to symptoms, delays, and mental toll—it’s all here: My Journey to a Bicuspid Aortic Valve (BAV) Diagnosis

Until last week, everything still felt a little distant. I’ve known for months that open-heart surgery was coming. I’ve been through the tests, scopes, consultations, delays, and pre-op prep. I’ve written about the mental toll, the physical limitations, the frustration of not knowing when. But there was still something abstract about it all—like I was living in the preview, not the feature.

Then I got the email.

Surgery is officially scheduled. July 10, 2025.

And just like that, it became real.

There’s now a date marked on my calendar. In five weeks, I’ll be heading into surgery to repair or replace my aortic valve. It’s not theoretical anymore. It’s booked. It’s happening. And everything feels different.

When the Clock Starts Ticking

For months, I’ve been in limbo. Waiting. Training, but not pushing. Working, but not knowing when I’d need to step away. Living like things were “normal” while carrying the weight of something that very much wasn’t. But now that a date is set, the countdown has begun—and that changes everything.

I’ve got five weeks to think about what’s coming. Five weeks of knowing I’ll soon be rolled into an operating room and put under while someone works on my heart. That reality is heavy. And while I try not to dwell on worst-case scenarios, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of it.

Here’s the strange part—and I don’t know if this will make sense to anyone else:

If I knew the outcome would be the same—if I could be guaranteed a full recovery—I think I would have preferred this to happen in an instant. As strange as that sounds, an emergency leaves no time to think, to prepare, to imagine. You’re forced into the moment, and you just fight. But this? This gives you too much time to overthink. To picture things you don’t want to picture. To anticipate every outcome—good and bad.

I trust my team. I know I’m in good hands—not just because of the skill of my cardiac surgeon and medical staff, but because I believe God’s hand is in this too. That doesn’t make it easy. But it gives me peace.

Protecting My Boys, One Step at a Time

Because Bicuspid Aortic Valve is a Congenital Heart Disease (it means I was born with it) and because it’s hereditary, I’ve already started the process of getting my boys screened. I made the call a month ago. That first appointment is done. And because I know the system, and I know how slow it can be, we started this process as soon as we could. I waited over two years for my own echocardiogram, so I don’t expect quick answers for them either. But at least the wheels are in motion.

That step was harder than I thought it would be. Not the logistics—just the emotional weight of it. Asking for cardiac testing for your kids is a sobering moment. It hits you that this isn’t just your fight anymore. It’s part of your family now. And that adds a layer to all of this that’s hard to explain. I’d go through this ten times over if it meant they didn’t have to—but right now, I can’t control that. What I can do is advocate for them. And I will.

Walking With Purpose: A Fundraiser

In the midst of everything, I’ve kept moving. I’ve taken on a fundraiser for the Heart & Stroke Foundation of Canada, tracking my walks daily on Strava. This is such a great cause that’s obviously so close to me, but it’s also about staying grounded, keeping my body active, and doing something proactive in a situation where so much is out of my control.

This research is personal. It’s helped people like me live longer, fuller lives. And with your help, it can do even more. So, I ask that you donate, even just $5 if that’s all you can swing. Because every little bit helps!

🔗 Donate to the Heart & Stroke Foundation

A New Chapter Coming

In the middle of all this chaos, we got some incredible news: we’re expecting a baby girl in November.

There’s a lot happening at once—surgery, fundraising, work, parenting, and now preparing to welcome a newborn. It’s a lot to carry, but it’s also a reminder that life doesn’t stop just because you’re struggling. In fact, it keeps going. It multiplies. And sometimes, it blesses you even in the middle of your biggest storm.

I’ve said before that my boys are my motivation. That hasn’t changed. And this little girl? She’s already part of that motivation too. I’m fighting for all of them—for every moment, milestone, and memory we haven’t made yet. That’s the heart behind everything I do right now.

Grateful.

This is not how I pictured 2025 unfolding. But it’s not lost on me how fortunate I am! Because I have people praying for me, walking with me, and checking in. Because I have kids to live for. Because I know I’m not walking through this alone. Because I have access to excellent care. Because I have faith.

I’m not without fear. But I am rooted in faith. I’ve got five weeks to keep showing up. Five weeks to keep preparing. Five weeks to focus on what I can control, and trust God with the rest.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for walking with me.

If you want to catch up on my previous posts, you can find them below:

•My Journey to a Bicuspid Aortic Valve (BAV) Diagnosis