In Support of Men Who Battle From Within: Malone's Story

It was a battle—one that tested not just his body, but his mind. Malone, a man built on discipline and determination, was in a place he never imagined: facing a heart transplant. Being temperamental and giving instructions like x's and o's, this was not his play to call. The disbelief weighed heavy. "How did I get here?" he asked me. The challenges ahead felt overwhelming, but he never gave up.

The late coach "Chip" Malone

He wanted to feel better and clung to the hope of that day, a second chance. In his book, A Second Chance, he wrote about how he wished “no one would come into (my) room" while in intensive care. It wasn’t about isolation it was about the emotional toll of being in that vulnerable state.

"Herrre come the Demons!" I found something out when Chip accepted an invitation to speak at two men's ministry meetings. The hometown IronMen Ministries and for a local church family that came with a more personal connection.

Almost a year after his heart transplant, a long-time fan, and his dad who at that time, was the high school football announcer who spent years calling games from the press box invited Chip to share his story at their evening service.

I expected to stay home and hear all about it later. But Chip insisted I come with him to the men's ministry. And that’s when, for the first time throughout the entire transplant journey, I heard him say something that stopped me in my tracks.

"My wife saw me in a way I never wanted her to. Man, that was just as difficult as everything else I was dealing with."

I didn’t know. I mean, it never crossed my mind. From the product table in the back of the room, I scanned their faces. Eyebrows lifted, heads nodded slowly in silent agreement. They understood Chip obviously in a way I hadn’t considered. There was something unspoken, relatable among these men. It was in those quiet nods, the glances that I believe someone had been through their own battles, ad could relate to the weight of his vulnerability. For Chip, for them, and then for me, the reality of his struggle had taken on a new depth.

The Mental Battle: Our social worker assigned to his case asked a question that made him pause. Her question based on experience with other patients that would not follow

instructions, gave pushback in many ways, or just not show up for critical appointments, she wondered if Chip's mindset, his D1 competitive mentality as well as his family support system attributed to helping him through this health crisis.

The answer wasn’t complicated. “No doubt!” he said, cutting her off before she could finish the question.

Even though he was often frustrated, agitated, and skeptical, when a psychologist arrived for his evaluation, sarcasm became his shield. Her report was just one of urteen evaluations required before being listed as a heart transplant candidate.

He wasn’t feeling it. But slowly, he began to accept the process.

The medical professionals at Emory St. Joseph’s (Dunwoody) were in awe of his fight to live. They cared deeply for him though they tried to maintain professionalism and witnessed the strength we generated as a couple.

Many times, it was "the look" I gave him that only a wife can. That look—the one that said, you know better. He said, "Yeah, but I'm the one going through all this." He was RIGHT. The medical team wasn’t just checking boxes; they were ensuring he was not only physically, but also mentally prepared for what was ahead. And that’s the truth about healing. It’s not just physical, it’s mental, emotional, and deeply personal.

Coach Malone’s story is a testament to the God's grace, the power of mindset, support, and resilience.

To Your MENTAL Health, Cynthia