February 21st

Sav- “Kody was in an accident. He wrecked his bike, and they are loading him into the ambulance.”

Me- “WHAT? Is he alive? Did he hit his head? Where are they taking him?”

He was alive when they loaded him into the ambulance.

The car ride to Texas Health Plano was absolute hell. Was I preparing to say goodbye to my big brother? Every what‑if ran through my mind. I imagined every possible scenario, and I didn’t even know what was actually happening. I prayed to God to help my brother. I prayed to God to save my brother. I prayed to God to let me keep my brother.

We got to the hospital and were taken to the family waiting room.

“Blood transfusion in the ambulance”

“Two more units upon arrival”

“We intubated him.”

My heart broke for the third time in my life.

Thirty years of memories flashed through my mind. Childhood moments, inside jokes — all of it hitting me at once as the tears wouldn’t stop.

I don’t remember much of what the doctor said after that. I was just waiting to see my brother, trying to brace myself for whatever I was about to walk into.

They took me back to Trauma Room 3.

I walked around the curtain… and fell to my knees.

There he was.

Intubated. Wires and tubes everywhere.

He looked so small. So still. So innocent.

I picked myself up and stood beside him.

I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. I prayed to God to save my brother. I prayed to God to let me keep my brother.

I was brought up to speed and signed so many different papers. I went and got his girlfriend, Savannah, so she could go see him, and I sent my husband, Dylan, back as well. They were about to take Kody back for surgery, and I ran back to the room. I whispered a few things in his ear and prayed to God.

Four hours later, he was out of surgery and conscious. He was in recovery for a little while and then made it up to his room.

He’s alive. He’s awake. He’s okay.

February 23rd

His second surgery was another four hours and was a success, though he needed another blood transfusion.

He’s alive. He’s awake. He’s okay.

The last few days have felt like living inside a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

But he’s here. He’s still here. And I thank God for that every single time I look at him.

Now comes the part no one prepares you for — the long, slow, painful climb back. The healing. The rehab. The months of recovery. The reality that nothing about this is going to be quick or easy. He’ll be moving in with me once he’s discharged so I can help take care of him, and he’ll be out of work for a long time while he recovers. The medical bills, the follow‑ups, the equipment, the day‑to‑day needs… it’s already overwhelming, and we’re only at the beginning.

I’m trying to be strong. I’m trying to hold everything together. But the truth is, we need help.

If you feel led to support us — through donations, sharing this post, prayers, or even just sending love — it would mean more than I can ever express. Your support gives us room to breathe. It gives him space to heal. It gives me the strength to keep going.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for caring. Thank you for holding us up during the scariest days of our lives.

Thank you Lord for saving my brother.