STATESBORO – Adversity has never obstructed men’s golf fifth-year senior Jake Maples. He has always found a way through or around hardship and summoned the strength to move forward.
Stoic but brimming with confidence, he has heard words like “no” and “can’t” more times than he cares to remember, and his physical response tends to be a shrug of the shoulders and maybe a wry smile. There might be a comment, dripping with his dry wit and sarcasm. But make no mistake, a fire will have been ignited, and it will drive him to work and ultimately prosper.
The drive comes from literally a lifetime of beating the odds and overcoming adversity.
“He has that part in his heart that tells him, hey, ‘I'm going to do this and I'm going to be successful,’ because he has overcome and does dig deep when it comes time to dig deep,” says Carla Maples, his mother, and she ought to know.
Babies are born with a hole between the left and right atria (upper chambers) of the heart that usually closes naturally. During his first visit after coming home from the hospital, Jake’s pediatrician discovered his had not closed yet. Technically referred to as a patent foramen ovale, his doctors decided to continue to monitor it, still thinking it would heal on its own.
Jake saw his pediatric cardiologist every three months, and in March of 2000, when he was 2-and-a-half, the doctor diagnosed him with atrial septal defect, and the decision was made that the best thing for Jake would be open-heart surgery to repair the hole. Carla and Jake’s father, Robbie, were, as she says, “scared to death about it.”
“Her only child was going in to have his heart repaired and going to be put on a heart-lung machine,” says Jake, who does not have much recollection of the event. “I can imagine how scared she was.”
Surgery was scheduled for May 10 at Egleston Hospital in Atlanta, a 50-mile drive from their home in McDonough, Georgia, but doctors advised Carla and Robbie not to tell Jake because it would scare him.
“We told him we were going to the doctor, and of course, he was great,” remembers Carla. “He's riding around in his little wagon that they have at Egleston that you see lots of kids in.”
The normal procedure for open-heart surgery is to lower the patient’s body temperature to where the heart is barely beating and put the patient on an ECMO machine, which essentially adds oxygen to one’s blood and pumps it through the body like the heart.
Carla and Robbie said goodbye to their first-born son and only child as he was wheeled in for surgery. They received regular updates and after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor came to talk to him.
“I just remember our pastor leaning over me and Robbie,” says Carla. “It was just the three of us standing with the doctor - and he said, 'how long was he on the ECMO?' For whatever reason, that bothered our pastor. And he (the doctor) said, ‘I never turned it on. His heart was strong enough that it quivered, and I operated on it and fixed it while it was quivering.’ So we love that story. We love that he never had to have that turned on, that his heart has always been strong. He's always been a strong person.”