Following a productive morning spent tidying the kitchen cabinet, I suddenly encountered an unexpected and considerable difficulty. I needed to rise to my feet from the sitting position, but the incision from my heart transplant made this strenuous movement risky, as it could jeopardize my healing and potentially reopen the wound. As I sat there, immersed in thought, I resolved to find a way to stand without using my arms to pull up on the countertop.

As I made my way to Omaha, a storm of anger and frustration roiled within me, intensifying with every mile as disbelief settled over the fact that my condition had worsened from a minor rejection to a severe one, causing damage to my heart.