TEAM CHRIS!

My name is Amanda Bryant, and my husband Zak and I have been friends of Chris and Annette's for years. We consider them our family and are SO happy for them to finally get through this serious medical hurdle they have been battling with for a long time. If you know Chris & Annette, you know they are nothing but thoughtful and caring people who put 110% into their family, friendships, businesses, and their lives. They take fun seriously ;)

For those of you who may not know, Chris just had a SUCCESSFUL heart transplant at UCSF Medical Center. He is doing extremely well and is a walking miracle! Annette is sending us updates daily, which I will be sharing here. Chris is looking to be released this coming week but will need to stay close to the hospital in San Francisco for 6-8 weeks (their home is in Chico, CA).

I am reaching out in hopes to help Chris & Annette with all the expenses they have and will continue to have for the next 6-8 weeks during recovery. They are not the type to ever ask for help, but this is a no-brainer on how expensive the next few weeks are going to be for them. With that being said, it is going to be extremely expensive for housing, travel, food, and continuous medical expenses.

If there is anything you can donate to help our wonderful friends and an absolute MIRACLE of a man in his healing journey, please and thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

12/6/25 From Annette:

If we did not believe in miracles…WE DO NOW!! HEART TRANSPLANT IS SUCCESSFUL!!!

19 years ago, on November 20, 2006, I received a call about my husband. The HR department of National RV was calling me to let me know Chris had just been transported via ambulance to the nearest hospital. They explained to me that he had collapsed at work and had no choice but to call 911. Hearing this from them, I took it very casually. He had collapsed a couple of times, but it was diagnosed as dehydration. I headed in his direction for the 90-minute drive. When I arrived, it did not take long to realize this was much more serious than dehydration. Watching the nurse doing the echocardiogram, I instantly knew he had an aortic dissection. In that instant, I said to the nurse, "You have to get him to Loma Linda." They were already on the same page, and within minutes, the doctor came in and said he was going to be life-flighted to Loma Linda. When he arrived, all the doctors in the emergency room were ready and wanted to get him prepped for surgery. It looked dire, but they were going to try to save his life. During the 13-day stay, he was brought back to life 6 times, he had two surgeries on his chest, went into renal failure, had his chest left open for 5 days (8 days in a coma), and was barely hanging on. When they removed his ventilator and he immediately started talking, we were all shocked. We could not believe he was alive and he made it through. It was truly a miracle.

To say life has been easy since then would be an incorrect statement. For the first 2 years, we went back and forth to Loma Linda, sometimes up to 3 times a week. The 3-hour round trip was exhausting. Although his life was saved, he was still in very bad health. Loma Linda did not always have the best news for us, but we always powered through. In mid-2008, we moved to Lincoln, and our new home (medical) became UC Davis. We love all the staff there, and they did all they could to keep Chris alive and kicking. We would often get good news, then the next visit, terrible news. In 2009, he had another life-saving surgery. Again, he came through and recovered in record time. His doctor told me that he would have died in 3 to 5 days if I had not kept pushing that something was wrong. Another miracle.

In 2013, we found out that Chris was in heart failure on top of all the dissections he has in his aorta. This news was shocking, as we knew this was going to be an entirely different medical situation to deal with. We always tried to live by the mantra... there are others in worse situations. It seemed every time we moved forward, we went one step back.

We had spent 7 years focused on his abdominal dissection and trying to keep it under 4.8 cm. Now we were dealing with a failing heart and lungs that were struggling to breathe. With this newfound issue, it was rare that we had good news from the doctors. Each time we left feeling a little worse than when we arrived. The heart failure was continuing to deteriorate. I am not sure he realized the gravity of this new situation, but it would not be long before that time came.

As the years went by, the news continued to get more depressing. Chris started to have a very hard time breathing. Just walking to the mailbox made him exhausted. One medication to help arrhythmias would cause more breathing issues. Another might make the arrhythmia worse. It was a constant balancing act. He would feel good one day, then be miserable the next day. He was taking on fluid, thinking he was gaining weight. I had to always assure him that his stomach was fluid. I had to keep buying bigger pants for him, and each time he became more frustrated.

In early 2020, he collapsed surrounded by friends. They started CPR and called 911. It was at this time they brought Chris back from death 4 times. In all honesty, I do not think ANY of us thought he was going to survive. Even the paramedics who saved his life thought they would hear that he did not make it. Once again, he proved us all wrong. It was at this time that they installed a defibrillator. This would save him when his heart started to go into the crazy arrhythmias.

Having the defibrillator gave us a little security, but it did nothing for his health. Things continued downhill for him. Breathing, heart rate, chest pain. He was good during the day but would come home and collapse. Our life was beginning to become very small. His condition made it very difficult to make plans or arrangements for anything in advance. We lived from moment to moment. COVID, of course, did not help this, but by 2022 it was obvious that he was deteriorating.

The doctors started to seriously consider a heart transplant in early 2022. I laughed at them and could not believe they would suggest something so far out there. I literally stated to them, "He has too many other issues; he will surely die on the table." I was not buying it. They assured me that much had changed since 2013 (when this was first mentioned), and they could do amazing things. We were still not on board with this idea, but we talked about it with the doctors at every appointment. In the fall of 2022, my father asked Chris and me to move in with him, as he was now single and needed to have someone in his home with him. After serious consideration, we decided that my father needed us, and we moved in to care for him. We were there only a month when Chris's defibrillator started to go off and shock him. The first time, the person standing with him thought Chris was shot by a drive-by shooter. The second time, he landed in a friend's arms walking down Fremont Street in Las Vegas. Each time freaking him out more and more. From that time forward, that little device just did not stop. It became a weekly, if not bi-weekly, occurrence. It was so exhausting. Between Chris and my father, I feel like I have lived at Enloe for the last 3 years. The ER nurses always say…you again. I literally could take Chris into the ER one day, then the next my dad. I just kept telling myself to keep going while hanging on by a thread.

July of 2024 became a tipping point for his health. His defibrillator went off and shocked him 2 times in an hour. The second time, he collapsed in my lap, passed out (I thought he died), and came to a few seconds later. Another trip to Enloe, then to Dr. Kusomoto, then to Sutter Health in Sacramento. (Our doctors from Davis moved to Sutter.) Chris began a routine of ablations on the heart. To date, he has had 3 ablations. They were running out of options for him, but we kept plugging along, knowing his heart was getting weaker and weaker.

It was during this time that one of my siblings filed a lawsuit against me and my father. It was an additional stress that we did not need and continue to not need. Money does strange things to people, and the accusations they can come with are without a doubt mind-boggling.

During this last year, the doctors became more and more serious about a heart transplant. We were still unsure. Chris toggled back and forth but knew he could not continue to live life the way he had been. In May of this year, his defibrillator shocked him 3 times in a row. The friends that were with us were amazing and stayed so calm. Chris again was admitted to Enloe. The following weekend, Chris was at his shop alone, and the defibrillator shocked him 5 times in a row. Once again, we had phenomenal paramedics and firemen. He was airlifted to UCSF and was admitted for a few days. They felt it was time to start the transplant testing. He was there for 5 days doing test after test.

We had an appointment on September 17. After doing other testing, the staff would let us know if Chris would be there indefinitely until a heart came or if he could go home. It was a very hard, emotional day for Chris when they told him he had to stay. Last week, he hit 10 weeks in the hospital. Bored, nervous, unsure, depressed, emotional, and all-around uncomfortable. He wanted out, and he wanted to come home.

On Sunday, November 30, I received a phone call from UCSF. They had a heart, and Chris would be going into surgery that night at 6 pm. I had already planned a trip there for 3 days, so I was prepared to leave.

In pure Chris fashion, he threw everyone for a loop an hour before surgery time. They thought he may have had a stroke. They had to rush him to CT, saw nothing on the imaging but still wanted to be positive. They really wanted to be sure, but they were running out of time, as Chris needed to be in OR immediately. The main neurologist came racing down the hallway, said, "Let me look at your eyes again." Shined the light in Chris' eye and said, "I am ready to roll. Let’s do this." Chris was 100% on board.

We walked him down to OR and watched them wheel him in. We went back to the hotel, and I tried to sleep, but that was not in the equation for the night. At 5 am, I received a call that the surgery was over and it was successful. He was heavily sedated, and they were keeping him comfortable. They said he would be in an induced coma for 2 days. I did not think we would see him talk until Wednesday. On Tuesday night at 7:30, they removed his ventilator. The only thing he talked about when he woke up was racing (he used to race dirt track, then graduated to asphalt). He was awake all night and would not stop talking to the nurses.

On Wednesday, they had him up walking. He also was extremely chatty and started texting anyone and everyone in his contact list. People he had not seen for years or he barely knew. Again, his talking was out of control. His nurse finally told him, "If you do not stop talking, we are not going to know when you really need us." This did not faze him in the least.

On Thursday, his improvement was nothing short of a miracle. He continued walking around the ICU floor and has continued to feel stronger.

Yesterday, they removed all the tubes and wires, and he was released from the ICU. The only thing he is doing is taking anti-rejection drugs. He is set to be released to my care next Monday, the 15th. We will have to remain in San Francisco for 6 weeks until he comes home to Chico.

I have said it before, and I will say it again. I believe Chris is a mutant or possibly a robot. It is beyond comprehension that he has lived through everything that has happened. His will and determination are inspiring. He must be on earth to do something big. What that is, I do not know. For the time being, he will have to be reclusive. It will feel like COVID at our house, with masks, antibacterial hand soap, and gloves. This will be the easy part for him.

I am still trying to process all of this. It is very surreal, especially because I did not think this was possible.

I have already started the process to find out where the heart came from. Chris and I want to meet the family and thank them. We also want to get to know their family member through their eyes.

Miracles do happen, and my wish is that everyone would have a miracle. Sometimes what feels like the end of the line is just the beginning.

If we have made it this far, we will surely make it the rest of the way.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has been supporting us. I will continue updates to you all via text.