A second chance: Loretta’s heart transplant journey
When Loretta’s heart began to fail, she never imagined her life would depend on the generosity of a stranger. This is the story of the moment everything changed, and the organ donor who made her life today possible.
In early 2017, Loretta’s life changed in an instant. She had been known as the person who kept going — working tirelessly as a housing consultant, supporting Section 8 clients and rarely asking anyone for help. But that year, her body began sending a message she could no longer ignore. Her heart was under-functioning, and her energy — a force she had always relied on — was slipping away.
Loretta recalls dozing off at a stoplight at University and Snelling Avenues in Saint Paul and knew the situation was serious.
She was referred to the University of Minnesota Medical Center; doctors soon discovered the depth of the problem: her heart was functioning at only 10 percent. The exhaustion she’d been trying to push through now made sense. Simple tasks like grocery shopping became impossible to finish. Sleeping lying down left her breathless; instead, she spent nights sitting upright in a chair.
“I’m not the type of person who asks for help,” she often said. But her nurse reminded her gently, “Loretta, you have to take care of yourself first.”
Her health continued to decline, and soon the conversations turned to something she had never imagined for herself: a heart transplant. Loretta had survived breast cancer years earlier, and she suspected the chemotherapy had damaged her heart.
Still, she tried to stay strong. She walked the hospital halls, talking with other patients about transplant journeys, telling them she believed her time was coming soon. But her sons were afraid watching their mother weaken was harder than any of them could say.
Then came February 8, 2017 — her sister’s birthday, a day they usually celebrated at Red Lobster. Loretta was at work when her phone rang. It was Dr. Rebecca Cogswell.
“I’ll be back with your heart,” the doctor said.
Loretta screamed. She jumped up from her desk at work. She mouthed to a coworker, I got a heart. Moments later, emotions overtook her — joy, fear, gratitude all at once. “Someone died for me to live,” she kept repeating. That truth sat heavy on her, even as hope surged.
Her oldest son, a police officer, drove her home to gather her things. She cried as she talked to him. She walked across the yard to tell her neighbor the news. And then she went to the hospital, where the staff noticed the stream of people arriving to support her. “The halls are lined with people,” one staff member remarked. “You must be well-loved.”
Her surgery was successful. Afterward, she underwent right heart catheterizations to monitor how her new heart was adjusting. She pushed herself to walk, to recover, to treat the nurses with the same kindness and gratitude she felt so deeply.
Today, Loretta is still here to tell her story — something she never takes for granted. She now works part-time, about 25 hours a week. Friends tease her that she only needed a new heart because she was “the busiest woman they’d ever known.” She laughs, because they’re not wrong.
She often thinks of her donor: a 20-year-old man from California. She hasn’t written to the family yet, but she carries him with her always. She carries his gift. And she carries a message she now shares with others:
“Listen to your body. Listen to your doctors. Treat people well. And let someone else live through you. Register as a donor.”