Ep. 1 First Aorta Valve Replacement

On this day 2005
My mom and I get a phone call at 4am telling us there has been a change and we need to report to the Operating Room immediately. We were staying in a Ronald Mcdonald House (if you have ever donated your change to one of those tip jars, I thank you) as we were extremely poor and qualified for the assistance. This was a good thing as cell phones weren't mainstream and the hospital obviously was connected to the house. I was initially scheduled for the day before as the 3rd operating for the day, but there was an emergency, and I was pushed to the following day.
Truth be told I was quite upset with the change. The mental preparation of 15 year old me consisted of actually watching an open heart surgery on YouTube, the movie "Something the Lord Made" and a keen understanding that this might be the end of the line for me. I was ready.
I should have been grateful as it gave me an extra day with my siblings and my dad, Todd Park, who I hadn't seen but a few times since the divorce several years prior. But the huge build up of of anxiety and fear was so palpable that even the nurse was concerned about my blood pressure that morning. Even the photo with Santa that day, wasn't lifting my spirits.
Delayed to the second slot the following day, we were not required to be in until 8am. So the phone call at 4am saying to be there at 5 was surprising. Turns out, the patient before me broke the "Do Not Eat or Drink" order and was booted from the schedule that day.
Rabbit trail: my mom was quite upset that my 8 hour operation was the second surgery of the day, she wanted me to be first so the surgeon was fresh... the lord works in mysterious ways.
In retrospect, this was probably a blessing. The morning was such a whirlwind I barely remember the IV being placed, being wheeled through their "bunny room" (it was a children's hospital so there was a toy room) where I snagged the biggest stuffed moose that we affectionately named "Starbucks" and then "coughy", and finally the anesthesiologist gave the first dose of anesthesia that is basically just made me drunk. The curtain rail around my bed was suddenly a snake (which was awesome, btw) and the fish on the curtains were swimming.
I remember being wheeled through the OR doors and all 6 people lifting me on a sheet and placing me on the cold table. And though I didnt have both ores in the water at this point, I did have enough wits about me to stop all the activity in the OR. At this point, my 15 year old logic was pretty convinced that it was the end. Convinced that the next time I opened my eyes I would be hanging out with Jesus, I told the staff, that whatever happens, I was grateful for all of them and all the care they had given me to that point and that I know that they did everything they could to save me.
It was enough to make one of them cry and go tell my mom, which is the only reason I remembered saying it.
Moments later the put a mask on my face and told me it was going to be fine.
And that was the start of some of the craziest 3 months in my health history.