Personally I have never done this. Not once in 42 years.

But somebody I trust told me to stop being so prideful and just tell the truth. So here it is.

My name is Cliff. A lot of you know me as Cliff The Gift. You’ve seen me in the gym. You’ve seen me smile. You’ve seen me show up every single day without quitting or feeling sorry for myself. Some of you have even told me that watching me fight helped you fight your own battles. That means more to me than I can say.

What you don’t always see is what this fight actually costs.

I’m 42 years old and I have end stage heart failure. I’ve had an LVAD for the last five years. That’s a mechanical pump keeping my heart going. I’ve been listed for a heart transplant for four and a half years. My heart hasn’t improved enough to have the device removed, which means my life is tied to this machine until I get a new one.

Right now I’m listed as inactive on the transplant list because I don’t have insurance.

And before you ask why I haven’t just signed up for a plan, let me be real with you. With my conditions, it’s not that simple. The kind of insurance that would actually cover a heart transplant runs anywhere from $900 to $1,200 a month. On top of medications. On top of copays. On top of everything else it takes to manage something this serious every single day. These costs don’t pause. They don’t negotiate. And they don’t care if you’re having a good month or a bad one.

That sentence about not having insurance is honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to write.

I don’t have disability. I don’t have social security. I’ve just always found a way, my whole life, that’s what I do. But for the first time I’m having trouble finding the way. I’m behind on hospital appointments. Behind on tests. Behind on the things that need to happen to keep me eligible for a heart when one becomes available. I’m in debt. And I had a conversation with my doctors this week that scared me in a way I haven’t been scared since this whole journey started.

They made it plain: getting insured and getting things in order isn’t optional anymore. It’s literally a matter of whether I survive.

I’m not asking for a million dollars. I’m not asking anybody to change my life. I’m asking for help getting out of the hole I’m in so I can keep fighting. Help with insurance. Help catching up on what I’ve fallen behind on. Help staying stable enough to still be here when my name finally gets called.

And I’m gonna be honest the way I’m always honest with you all: I’m exhausted. I’m tired of carrying this by myself. I’m tired of having to be so strong all the time. And asking for this genuinely makes me uncomfortable, because I’m a man, and because I’m supposed to be Cliff the Gift.

But I’m not willing to die with this device in my chest and these batteries in my bag if there’s still a chance to keep going.

If you can give, anything helps. If you can’t give, sharing this means just as much.

And I promise you this: once I get through this, I will spend whatever time I have left paying every single bit of it forward.

Fueled by Love. Always.

Cliff ❤️​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​