The doctor told my mom and dad I had a heart murmur when I was born. They weren’t worried or concerned and never said anything until 1984. During that year, my sister contracted endocarditis. Endocarditis is an infection of the heart’s inner lining, usually involving a heart valve. Because of this, she had open heart surgery, and they replaced her mitral valve with a pig valve. No one knew that she had a condition called mitral valve prolapse. Blood flows in one direction through the valves; however, with mitral valve prolapse, the blood flows back and forth like a swinging door. Because it is hereditary, my brother and I had to have an echocardiogram to determine whether we had the same condition. Well, of course, I did. It sounds like a heart murmur; back up to 1965, Misti’s birth heart murmur, which can lead to heart valve disease- no one was too worried. No worries, no big deal. It doesn’t bother me; at times, I may feel a little flutter, or the funny thing, it makes me cough- weird.
I started thinking about this while Jay and I attended this past weekend’s American Cancer Society Suits and Sneakers kick-off event. The people there were those who had donated to help the event be a success and the members of the ACS Board of Arkansas. Justin Boeving, with Athletes Advantage Financial and on the board of the American Cancer Society, spoke about why he is invested in helping raise funds for cancer. He talked about athletes affected, his family who have had cancer, and then he told of his hero. When the next slide was up, I wasn’t prepared. His hero Stringer was all over the screen.
It took me back as tears welled in my eyes. Every time I go back through the fight, the pain, and the suffering, a feeling of hopelessness comes over me. The situations he dealt with and the things he would say, but witnessing the strength and perseverance that pushed him forward, made him a hero. I go back to the last visit to MD Anderson and the words, “Nothing else we can do.” My thoughts go to the week of January 20th, 2020, when he decided it was time. I can’t explain how my insides feel, but those who have been through it know.
I look around the room, and I only know a few. I don’t know what I don’t know, and I don’t know if any of them have watched someone die. What I do know is that my heart beats a little differently because of life and death. I have a different heartbeat, not just from birth but from an experience that left me with a changed heart. Emotions flood day in and day out, joy and sorrow living within the same lining of the heart. It’s not just that my heartbeat is different, but I am different.
A different heartbeat doesn’t have a remedy, it doesn’t have a cure, but it does keep beating. It keeps beating a little differently than many, and for that, I am thankful. I was one way, and then I was different.
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