My Heart Story: From a Broken Heart to a Stronger One

Most people know someone whose life has been touched by heart disease or stroke. Maybe it's a parent, a spouse, a child, a friend, or even themselves.

For me, it became personal in a way I never could have imagined.

In November 2025, I had a major scare. I went to the hospital because I simply didn't feel right. I had some discomfort in my left arm, and something told me I needed to get checked out. I was admitted immediately to Advent Health, and test after test was performed.

The following morning, a cardiologist came in and sat down with my mom and me. He asked me if I knew what Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, better known as "Broken Heart Syndrome," was.

I told him I knew what it was, but I honestly didn't realize it was a real thing.

Then he explained something that stopped me in my tracks.

He explained that my heart had been severely affected by the emotional devastation of losing Mark, the love of my life and my husband of more than 25 years.

Mark passed away from cancer on December 31, 2023, after fighting one of the hardest battles imaginable for eight long months. I was by his side through every appointment, every treatment, every setback, and every victory we could find along the way.

The morning Mark passed away, I was transported by ambulance alongside him. An echocardiogram performed at that time showed my heart's ejection fraction, or EF, was 22%. My medical team hoped my heart would recover as I worked through the unimaginable grief of losing my husband.

But I didn't realize just how much my heart was struggling.

For nearly two years after Mark's passing, I continued to decline. The strange thing was that I didn't feel terribly sick most of the time. I just felt exhausted. My energy was gone. I assumed what I was experiencing was depression, grief, and the process of learning how to live without the person I loved most.

I never imagined that while I was trying to heal emotionally, my physical heart was continuing to weaken.

Instead of recovering, my heart had gotten worse.

By November 2025, my EF had fallen to approximately 14%.

Suddenly, I wasn't just grieving the loss of my husband.

I was facing a very real battle with my own heart.

I was told my care needed to be transferred to a hospital specializing in advanced heart failure and heart transplantation. I was transferred to St. Luke's Heart Transplant Program on the Plaza, where I met an incredible team of doctors, nurses, coordinators, and specialists.

And when I say incredible, I mean it.

They didn't just treat my heart.

They gave me hope.

After medications, procedures, and countless appointments, I was told I needed to begin cardiac rehabilitation to strengthen my heart and body for whatever might come next.

Then came cardiac rehab.

And somewhere along the way, that team became family.

They pushed me, encouraged me, believed in me, celebrated my victories, and sometimes had to put me in "timeout." 

My body didn't always cooperate. There were days my blood sugar was too low, because during the course of caring for Mark it had become routine for me to forget to eat and that has continued even to this day, but I am much more vigilant about remembering now. Days my blood pressure dropped too far. Days when I had to sit and be monitored while everyone else continued exercising.

I spent plenty of time in timeout over those eight months.

But I kept showing up.

And cardiac rehabilitation works.

Over the past eight months, with the continued support of my medical team, my cardiac rehab family, and my own commitment to working on myself both inside and outside of rehab, I have watched my heart begin to fight its way back.

My EF has improved from 14% to 40%.

Read that again.

14% to 40%.

At one point, I was taking 23 different medications. Today, my doctors are slowly removing some of those medications because of the progress my heart has made.

I'm not only getting stronger physically.

I'm getting stronger mentally and emotionally too.

I am living proof that sometimes the heart can surprise you.

I am a survivor.

And that's why I am participating in this walk.

I'm not walking simply to raise money.

I'm walking because I know firsthand what these programs can mean to someone's life.

I also want this journey to become bigger than my own story.

I want to become an advocate for the American Heart Association. I want to share my story with people facing heart disease, heart failure, and other cardiac conditions. I want people to know that a difficult diagnosis does not automatically mean the end of their story.

There can be hope.

The American Heart Association helps make that hope possible through research, education, prevention programs, advocacy, awareness, and support for patients and families. They help fund programs that save lives, improve outcomes, and give people a chance to keep making memories with those they love.

I especially want to reach people who are offered cardiac rehabilitation and decide not to participate.

Please reconsider.

Cardiac rehab is about so much more than exercise.

It's about rebuilding strength.

Rebuilding confidence.

Rebuilding independence.

And giving your heart every opportunity to become stronger.

Most importantly, it's about creating the possibility of more time.

More birthdays.

More anniversaries.

More holidays.

More family dinners.

More hugs.

More laughter.

More memories.

I know what it feels like to lose someone you love.

I would give anything for more memories with Mark.

That's why I want to help other people fight for the opportunity to create more memories with the people they love.

The heart transplant programs, cardiac rehabilitation programs, research, education, prevention efforts, treatment advances, and the incredible medical professionals who dedicate their lives to caring for patients like me all require funding and support.

Someone's donation could help another person get the care they need.

It could help someone's mother.

Someone's father.

Someone's husband or wife.

Someone's child.

Someone who is fighting for more time.

Someone who simply wants another birthday, another holiday, another family dinner, another chance to make memories with the people they love.

And that's why I am asking you, from the bottom of my heart, to help me reach my fundraising goal.

Actually, I don't just want to reach it.

I want to blow past it.

I want to increase my goal as donations come in and see just how much we can accomplish together.

I want to exceed what I even think is possible.

And I'm hoping there may be a company, organization, foundation, or business owner out there who reads my story and says:

"We want to be part of this."

If you know a company that would be willing to make a significant donation, sponsor my fundraising efforts, or even match my fundraising goal, I would be incredibly grateful for an introduction. This is a nonprofit so you can also get a receipt as its a tax deductible donation.

I want to find people and organizations who believe that saving and improving lives is worth investing in.

And if you can't make a large donation, please don't think your contribution doesn't matter.

$5 matters.
$10 matters.
$25 matters.
Every single dollar matters.

And if you can't donate, sharing my fundraising page may be just as valuable.

You never know who in your circle has been touched by heart disease or stroke, or who may need these programs someday.

Because the truth is simple:

Every one of us knows someone.

So let's come together.

Let's turn my 14% into someone else's hope.

Let's support the programs that helped give me a second chance.

Let's encourage people to say YES to cardiac rehab.

Let's help people fight for more time with the people they love.

Let's raise more than money.

Let's raise hope.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading my story, supporting me, sharing my journey, and helping me make a difference.

And to my cardiac rehab family and the incredible doctors, nurses, coordinators, and everyone who has helped me get here...

Thank you for believing in my heart when I wasn't sure what it could do. 

I don't know exactly how far this heart can go.

But I know I'm not done yet.

I want to keep pushing my goals higher, keep exceeding what I ever thought was possible, and use every step of this journey to give someone else hope.

So now...

Let's see how far we can take this.

One step.
One heartbeat.
One life.
One more memory at a time.