Cardiac Transplant Celebration and Walking Free

True confessions. Ever since Annika's cardiac arrest in 2022, I've been obsessed with hearts. For pretty obvious reasons, my passion for cardiology soon melded with a fixation on transplant. So when Annika received an invitation to the U.T.A.H. Cardiac Transplant Program 40th Anniversary Celebration,  I was pretty excited to tag-along as an extra. 

Also, I thought it was snazzy that the event was being held at the Capitol. In the ten years I've lived in Salt Lake, I'd never actually gone inside. Crazy since we live so close!

Annika was not thrilled that I made her wear a dress, but finally capitulated. 

When we arrived, the place was packed with a giant line to check-in. It was super loud with no place to sit--especially tricky when you're holding plates of food.. Here's a photo Jason took much later after things settled down.

On the positive side, the Capitol certainly is beautiful.

As soon as we figured out it was an option, we headed to the outdoor patio where there were tents and TVs set up to broadcast the program. So much nicer!

The program was meaningful for Jason and myself. The keynote speaker was Dr. Dale Renlund. I had no idea that prior to being called as an apostle, Elder Renlund was the medical director for the U.T.A.H. cardiac transplant program for nearly 20 years. I enjoyed learning about the consortium of Utah Transplantation Affiliated Hospitals, and marveled that there are four transplant hospitals located within 20 minutes of our home (University of Utah, Intermountain Medical Center, Primary Children's and the VA.) I cried when a mother representing Donor Connect talked about her daughter who passed away at the age of three, then invited the boy who had her daughter's heart to join her on stage.  I applauded the fourteen year-old girl who talked about living her new life with positivity instead of mourning the life that could have been. And of course, we recognized the work of all the medical teams who make transplant possible.

As a transplant recipient, Annika plays a critical role--the program exists to help patients like her. So she added her piece to the puzzle.

Annika's puzzle piece was marked with her name and a transplant number.  There have been more than 2000 hearts transplanted since Utah's first heart transplant 40 years ago. Her transplant was so recent that I rather doubt hers was number 1426 chronologically, but I'll ask at her next appointment.

We talked to a man who told us that transplant recipients generally know their number. 

Not Annika. 

As it turns out, she doesn't want to be identified by a number or her status as a transplant recipient. While she enjoyed getting to see a few familiar faces from Primary Children's, in general these were not her people. Within fifteen minutes, she was asking to leave. So after some obligatory small talk and listening to the keynote speaker,  Jason and I gave her permission to walk home.

While naturally we would have loved to have Annika join us the whole time, I also felt a smidge of pride when she left. I am indescribably grateful that she is healthy enough to walk the 2.5 uphill miles home. Before transplant, walking a block was questionable.

So if Annika decides to take off walking and leave her transplant identity behind, that's just fine. Obviously it's something that she can never fully shed (hello meds), but it doesn't have to define her. Frankly, I'm glad that she doesn't share my obsession with hearts. In no way does this diminish her gift or mean that we are less grateful for her donor. It's my hope that her donor lived each day fully, rarely thinking about the miraculously pump insode of them. Their gift is allowing Annika to live life similarly, shedding the world of cardiology to walk free and and enjoy the sunset.