• What is true motivation, and how do we find it daily, irrespective of our situation?

• Imagine the greatest gift you could ever give anyone, the gift of life.

• The question I am often asked is, did a heart transplant affect your personality?

• Where is God during a long-term illness? Does He even know we are suffering?

• 20+ people die every day in the United States, waiting for an organ transplant.

Email me, let’s start a conversation. wales534@gmail.com

I offer my services as a Zoom group meeting facilitator and one-on-one counselor for discussions and support sessions. Moreover, I am often invited to speak at small and large groups, sermons, panels, and conferences.

I charge no fee, except for travel expenses to events outside North Carolina or internationally. This is not a business for me; I consider it a part of my ministry.

My story is one of emotional hardship, conviction, complete lack of control, and ultimately surrendering everything to God while rejoicing in His Grace. I am grateful for the remarkable doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff who have dedicated their talents and hard work to helping those in need.

Meet Brian Carden.

"I used to work in the aircraft manufacturing industry, but now I'm retired. I'm a proud father of three exceptional and independent daughters. I don't like using buzz words, I prefer to communicate in simple English. Originally from Wales, I moved to the United States in 1995 when I was 38. I received a job offer that was too good to turn down, and it prompted me to relocate with my family.

Age is a bit of a puzzle for me these days. I received my donor heart on March 1st, 2012 when I was 55 years old. My wonderful donor was 20 years younger than me. It has been 12 years since the transplant, which means that I am now 67 years old, or 12, depending on my mood on any given day.”

 It was 5:00 p.m. Thursday, the first day of March 2012. It was St. David’s Day and, for all Welshmen, an extremely special day of the year. Saint David, or Dewi Sant as he is known in Welsh, is our Patron Saint. I sat in my office at home, propped up in a wheelchair; I had made it to yet another milestone in the two-and-a-half-year wait on the transplant list, my quest to stay alive. I was being supported in that by a wonderful intravenous drug called Milrinone. I wondered if I would make it to the next one I had set; I doubted it and had, to a large extent, resigned myself to my coming demise; no, I was almost looking forward to it. The phone rang, and the caller ID read ‘Duke 919 area code.’

“Hello….. Mr Carden?”

“Yes”.

“This is Melissa from Duke Transplant; we have a heart for you. How quickly can you get to Duke Hospital?”

I thought I would achieve one of those ‘bucket list items’, screaming through the streets at breakneck speed and being pulled over by the Police. They would ask me what I thought I was doing, and I would reply, “I’m going to have a heart transplant!” Then the officer would tell me to follow him and we would both shoot off in a cloud of smoke, sirens wailing and blue lights flashing!

60.7 miles 58 minutes, from Jamestown, NC to Duke University hospital…. for the first time ever, I never saw a single police officer all of the way!