“If I don’t make it through this,”

If I don’t make it through this, I just want you to know that I’m proud to be your son.
He never expected to be asking the nurses for just five more minutes — five more minutes to talk to his father. Five more minutes to say goodbye.
And well past midnight, the lights cut off and the soft under glow from the hospital bed faintly illuminated the faces of those willing to spend hours sitting in sonorous silence with a man telling death to wait.
He never expected to be telling his family what to do with his remains. He never expected to be telling them how to move on, what charities to donate to and what to raise awareness for, with the pulsating beep of a heart rate monitor in the background.
Because when Jason Lange was a kid, he played hockey and lacrosse.
Carefree.
He loved the outdoors and chased everything the world had to offer.
Carefree.
Like Marksmen everywhere, Lange was active and living his best life — he’d traveled the world and seen it from its tallest peaks. In fact, just a few weeks before he found himself in an intensive care unit (ICU) at Baylor Scott & White Heart and Vascular Hospital, Lange was hiking in Yosemite National Park with a friend from California — a trip sanctioned by his doctor.
But even so, with no shortness of breath, weakness or dizziness and seemingly no issues or signs for four decades to boot, Lange had a genetic condition of heart failure. He was gambling with his life.