I’m incredibly grateful to the team at CBS GoodDay Sacramento for giving Jason and me the opportunity to share our story—our journey through resilience, community, and hope after a moment that forever changed our lives.
What began as a completely normal, even joyful day quickly turned into an emergency that altered everything. It was my first day at a new job. Jason was getting ready to play bass with his rock band that night. Life felt full, busy, and promising.
At 8:30 p.m., in the middle of a set, Jason collapsed.
His bandmates immediately called 911. One of them—his guitar player—began CPR. He had completed his CPR certification just two days earlier.
That timing alone still gives me chills.
Jason survived four cardiac arrests, suffered a spinal stroke, and was placed into a medically induced coma. His medical team believed he would never come out of it—that if he did, he would remain in a vegetative state.
I refused to accept that.
I became a feral female in those hospital rooms. I was not going to give up on him—the kindest, funniest, most loving, and most generous man I’ve ever known.
And my instincts were right.
Jason emerged from the coma battered, bruised, and changed—but conscious. He had lost nearly 80% of his memory, and our lives as we knew them were gone. But he was still here.
As we quickly learned, surviving a medical catastrophe is only the beginning. Medical insurance does not cover everything—especially the things Jason truly needs to continue recovering and to move from simply surviving to actually thriving.
I left my job to become Jason’s full-time caregiver and advocate. Every day since has been a lesson in patience, determination, and learning how to navigate a system that wasn’t built for long-term healing.
Our goals now are focused on giving Jason the tools to regain independence and quality of life—things like a medical service dog, robotic legs for therapy, and an accessible golf cart so he can move more freely and safely. These aren’t luxuries; they are bridges back to living.
Through Help Hope Live, we’ve been able to pursue these critical needs—but something else unexpected has emerged along the way: purpose.
I remember feeling completely lost in the early days. Alone.
Overwhelmed. With no roadmap and no one telling me what came next. I don’t know why this happened to us, but I do know that I want to help other people—especially other women—who suddenly find themselves in the role of caregiver, advocate, and protector.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: you are stronger than you think, even when you don’t feel like you are. Trust your instincts. Ask questions. Be loud when you need to be. And don’t let anyone tell you that hope is unrealistic.
To the wives, caregivers, and supporters walking this path beside someone they love—please know you are not alone. There is a community out here that understands the fear, the exhaustion, and the fierce love it takes to keep going.
We are still writing our story. Jason is still fighting. And together, we are choosing hope—every single day.
You can help him in his journey as well by donating to his healing efforts. Donate here to
the Southwest Catastrophic Injury Fund. We appreciate any contribution you give. Thank you!
