In Review: Sharing my Story with CMN Organizers

I was invited by Primary Children's Medical Center to share my story with the folks responsible for organizing The Children's Miracle Network activities, telethons, and getting charitable funds for some families who qualify for financial help. PCMC hosted the national conference in Salt Lake City, Utah at the Marriot. The organization usually hears from a child.

Children’s Miracle Network Speech

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

My name is Paul Cardall.

I’m a husband and father of a young toddler. I’ve lived with a severe congenital heart defect for 36 years. Thanks to a dedicated team of professionals, my parent’s optimism, and the grace of God I've enjoyed quality time with only a single ventricle.

I’ve been in and out of Primary Children’s Medical Center my whole life.

(Photo: Primary Children's Medical Center)

In fact, in August 2008 my heart was failing so severely I was listed for a heart transplant. Because of my enlarged heart and complicated anatomy doctors and statistics suggested I might not survive the surgery. My wife and I were quite discouraged.

Either way, it was a mountain I was willing to climb.

We were faced with an unknown future. You can imagine our conversations that happened late in the night after we tucked our daughter into her bed about the “what if?”

(Photo: Looking out my hospital window. By Jeffery D. Allred, Deseret News)

Other medical centers had little experience in caring for an adult with a rare congenital heart defect. They were well versed in heart failure, various cardiac thoracic procedures, and the usual heart attacks but my unique anatomy required the attention of pediatric thoracic surgeons and specialists. This would not be your typical heart transplant.

As part of this innovative plan, I would be receiving my continued care at Primary Children’s Medical Center here in Utah.

As an adult in a Children’s Hospital my experience allowed me to gain a rare and special perspective into the medical care of a child.

My decline in health has been a challenging year of learning how to adapt to our new situation.

In addition to my health, more stress came this past summer to my family when my younger brother, Brian Cardall, who suffered a severe anxiety episode outside a small Utah town, was tragically killed after being tasered twice by a police officer.

(Photo: My brother Brian holding his daughter Ava)

As I was contemplating my own mortality my brother’s sudden death was extremely ironic. This event fueled my passion and will to live.

My brother was a well-published scientist. He was a mountain climber and understood each of us have mountains to climb. I know he would want me to “never give up!”

Through this ordeal, our family came to understand the hard sacrifice that would be made by another family whose loss would give me a second chance at life. Their loss would give my daughter a father, and my wife a husband.

After a year waiting for a heart, my transplant team urged me to check into the children’s hospital to stay until a heart would become available because my organs were failing and time was running out.

We were hoping a heart would become available. I did this. Immediately, my medical team began feeding me with nutrients and adjusting medications.

Living in a children’s hospital I’d get strange looks by young kids and parents wondering why the old man with oxygen and IV pole was in their hospital. Feeling bad for me my kind nurses put a name-tag on my door with the appropriate title, “Mr. Benjamin Button” in reference to a recent Hollywood movie about an old man who grows young.

If anyone looked at me funny or asked what I was doing there I jokingly told them I was a hospital critic reviewing the children’s hospital and wondered if they had any suggestions.

I think I became an expert critic as I witnessed first hand these kids, these cute little kids in their hospital gowns with IVs, teddy bears, and nurses pulling them around in their wagons to x-ray at 6am each morning.

(Photo: Playing the piano with one of the patients at PCMC. Phot by Jeffery D. Allred, Deseret News)

I was deeply affected by the amount of ill children who I saw fighting for their lives.

When I heard a child cry, naturally as a father, I desperately wanted to know what I could do to help alleviate their pain and fears. Nurses weren’t able to tell me what was going on so I was left to wonder, hope, and pray for that child.

A few are so helpless and hurting. Several are scared and some alone in their new environment.

Most parents who spend time with these kids are also feeling alone. And yet, they find strength in their children who seem to be teaching them principles of hope, faith, patience, and love.

I remember being there myself as a child and having the same emotions.

However, in my own experience I could not think of a better place and a kinder group of folks who selflessly serve and accommodate families without much public recognition. I can play a piece of music and an audience of a thousand applauds. Yet, these nurses tenderly and quietly care for a child and no one knows about it except those involved. It’s beautiful.

These children bring a special feeling to the medical center. They are the angels who walk the halls and their spirits alone create a comforting feeling for those who interact with them.

I remember a small child in a hospital gown in the playroom with her father. She put down her crayons, looked at her dad and said, “Is it ok if I cry?” Her dad looked down and quietly said, “I don’t want you to cry.”

How could I complain about my own situation? These kids have so much to teach us about our own pain and suffering. And yes, it’s ok to cry.

(Photo: Kissing my daughter goodnight before my heart transplant surgery)

I have been blessed with 36 years of memories. I have experienced growing up, attending college, traveling, serving a two year mission for my church, falling in love, getting married, and having a beautiful girl who we named Eden.

After being listed for nearly 400 days on the heart transplant waiting list, the call finally came. A heart had become available! I had until the next morning to prepare for difficult surgery.

My family gathered. We shared memories of the past year and our spoke of our hope in the future. I knew everything would be ok. I was nervous. This experience humbled me and I was prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

Still, even if I survived the initial surgery because of my enlarged heart, surgeons suggested I would be recovering for months in the pediatric intensive care. Possibly, thanksgiving or Christmas would be my homecoming.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the surgery was beautiful. Chief pediatric thoracic surgeon A.K. Kaza, who is my age I should add, performed a beautifully orchestrated miracle. He took my old heart out, which I compare to an old rusty pick up truck and put in a beautiful new sports car. When he turned to grab the paddles to shock my heart or jump-start it he turned back to see that new heart was pumping a beautiful sinus rhythm as though it was meant to be.

Two weeks later, after a miraculous recovery, I went home to my daughter and wife to enjoy a second chance at life.

Exactly four weeks ago, at this very hour, I was receiving my heart transplant. My family sat in the waiting hoping for the best.

Needless to say, I feel amazing. I recognize blood flowing through me for the first time. I have endurance. I’m rearing to go. Like the sports car inside of me, I’ve got the top down and I love the ride.

All of us in this room are busy climbing mountains. In your efforts to give children a second chance at life, I applaud you. I thank you. I admire your work. You are the angels of the hospital who provide miracles for other children like me who need help to go home to a family or for a family to find comfort during a difficult time of loss.

(Photo: Holding my brother Brian's new daughter Bella Aspen Cardall)

In closing, I don’t know why God gave me a second chance or why my brother and so many others, young people, kids, have gone beyond?

What I do know, is that I see things more clearly now. My soul has been stretched. I am a better man.

I have been blessed to live 36 years with a defect, which has reminded me daily that this life is not forever. We all grow old and should cherish each day we have in this beautiful world.

Our family should always come first. Because in the end all that really matters are the ones you leave behind.