El Vadinator

In 2001, my father experienced transformative surgery that brought closure to a journey that began when he inherited a heart defect from his mother, Josephine. His childhood was heavily influenced by Grandma Josephine's own battles with cardiovascular problems. Despite her lively personality and relentless determination to lead her extensive family from a modest sofa, her struggle with heart ailments ultimately resulted in heart failure and an untimely death—a fate that seemed to loom ominously over my dad as he grew older. Symptoms began to surface for him during the 1980s and 1990s, and he approached the intimidating hereditary issue with the same faith and resilience that characterized his mother. After a thorough series of medical assessments, lifestyle modifications, the introduction of a pacemaker, and a turbulent emotional journey filled with uncertainty, a hopeful opportunity arose: a heart transplant was offered in January 2001. The surgery turned out to be extremely successful, signifying a fresh start in his life. With a new heart beating robustly, my father not only triumphed over his inherited challenges but also seized life with a newfound enthusiasm, paying tribute to Josephine’s legacy while charting his own course, rich with the potential for second chances and limitless opportunities. Each heartbeat of his new heart served as a tribute to her spirit, illustrating the strength of resilience and the unbreakable bonds of family.

I inherited the same lethal heart condition, but since I was raised in a family where half of my Oberembt relatives exhibited a diverse range of symptoms stemming from the same genetic flaw, it didn’t seem terribly overwhelming. In contrast to my father and his siblings, who depended on more conventional treatments that often proved ineffective, I found hope in the advancements of modern medicine. During my assessment at The University of Nebraska Medicine, I encountered a gruesome apparatus known as the Left Ventricular Assist Device (LVAD). Implanting the device would necessitate drilling a hole into the lower part of my heart to the pump and its power chords within my body. Once implanted, the LVAD would assume all cardiac functions. Interestingly, the unique aspect of this device is the complete lack of a heartbeat, as the LVAD perpetually circulates blood throughout the body instead of pumping rhythmically like a natural heart.

Initially, Ericka and I were apprehensive about the thought of relying on a pump powered by two batteries to sustain my life. Yet, as time progressed, this advanced technology turned into a source of hope for me. Due to my uncommon blood type, the wait for a heart transplant was considerably longer than that of many other patients, and my heart failure swiftly hindered my ability to teach school or enjoy moments with my own children. Receiving an LVAD would not only aid my heart's functionality but also improve my overall quality of life, enabling me to participate in activities that others often take for granted. Ultimately, we made the decision to proceed! I took a medical leave from my position at Omaha South High School and awaited the go-ahead from Dr. Hyden to move forward.

After undergoing the process of getting my Left Ventricular Assist Device (LVAD) the recovery demands tested my physical resilience throughout the long and challenging recovery. It also involved a steep learning curve as I struggled to learn how to manage the meticulous daily routine, which involved changing the device's batteries and caring for the external port site. These tasks, while seemingly straightforward, presented their own unique set of challenges; I had to familiarize myself with the intricacies of the equipment while grappling with fluctuations in my own stamina. Initially, the intricacies of carefully disconnecting and reconnecting batteries left me feeling anxious, particularly when I considered the importance of maintaining a consistent power supply to stay alive. I trusted Ericka with the task of cleaning the port site, as it required precision and a stringent hygiene protocol to prevent infection, which overwhelmed my recovering brain. Eventually, through rigorous practice and an understanding of its significance, I began to embrace this new routine, turning what felt like daunting tasks into empowering achievements that reminded me of my resilience and the value of life I was fighting to reclaim.

Understanding that my daily life would undergo considerable changes after receiving an LVAD, I begged Ericka to purchase a Sleep Number bed for us. This became one of the most impactful enhancements to our home. The bed, with its vibrating and reclining features, allowed me to adjust my back and knees, providing not only a source of comfort but also essential support amid the challenges of living with an LVAD. Every night, as I settled into its soft embrace, I was reminded of the adjustments in my routine—plugging my pump into the wall socket while the batteries charged overnight. This process not only replenished the batteries but also instilled a reassuring sense of safety that helped me drift into restful sleep. The gentle vibrations of the bed offered a calming effect that alleviated the discomfort from lying flat on my back, helping to reduce stress and tension built up during the day. This combination of therapeutic reclining and soothing vibrations created a restful haven that facilitated improved sleep, which was important for both my physical healing and emotional wellness. It wasn't until I participated in the church retreat at Platte River State Park that I realized just how much I depended on my special nighttime haven.

Setting out on my inaugural journey with the LVAD filled me with a mix of excitement and nervousness, especially as I adapted to my new circumstances. I found myself balancing the intricacies of my health condition while also trying to savor the excitement of traveling. Upon my early arrival at our cabin in Platte River State Park, it became clear that I needed to reposition the bed so I could easily connect to the wall socket and ensure the LVAD maintained its power supply. This minor yet crucial adjustment underscored the necessity of modifying my environment to meet my needs. My friend Sue, with her ever-present sense of humor, stopped short when she entered the room. She asked why I moved the head of my bed.  After I explained my reasoning, her face betrayed her as she fought to keep from laughing. Eventually, she succumbed and erupted into joyful laughter—a clear indication of how unconventional my life had turned out to be. Together, we shared hearty laughs, which lightened what could have otherwise been a challenging situation. This reminded me that, despite obstacles, humor could connect the mundane and the adventurous. Although I needed to be attached to batteries or a wall socket, I was free to enjoy life wherever it led. I came to understand that this journey was about reshaping my outlook on life itself.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I could feel the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees surrounding the cabin. This retreat welcomed me with open arms, allowing me a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in so long. My laughter with Sue was a balm for my spirit, reminding me that joy can thrive amidst challenges.

Amidst the laughter and carefree conversations, I noticed our friends in the cabin next door were gathering for the evening bonfire. The warm glow of the flames beckoned, urging me to rise and join my friends. Tentatively, I finished setting up the LVAD’s tether, positioning its power cords carefully, close yet out of the way. As I stepped outside, the pulse of the world around me echoed within, my blood flowing in tandem with a desire for life—real, vibrant, and filled with possibilities.

Sitting around the flickering fire, we shared stories that bounced off the tall pines like sparks into the starry night. I was thankful l could navigate life with the LVAD and embrace each day not as a burden, but as an opportunity. Inspired by the legacy of resilience from my father and Grandma Josephine, I recognized the importance of humor, support, and adaptability. Sitting alongside my church friends infused strength into my bones, reinforcing the lesson that connection—be it with friends, family, or even our devices—was crucial for thriving despite hardships.

As the fire crackled, I felt a surge of gratitude for the journey that led me there and the medical technologies allowing me to pave my path. I recalled my father's new heart, now a symbol representing the full circle of our family’s struggle and triumph. It was then that I made a quiet vow: to honor both my father’s legacy and the spirit of Grandma Josephine by not merely surviving, but living life fully—embracing every moment, connection, and laughter along the way.

With the warmth of the fire enveloping me, I knew that the LVAD wasn’t just a mechanical device; it was a gateway to new experiences. I resolved to face each day like this beautiful evening, filled with laughter, warmth, and hope. In that moment, I found peace, understanding that life might not always follow the path we expect, but with love, resilience, and a good sense of humor, it can lead us to places of unexpected joy and infinite possibility. As laughter continued to dance in the air, I felt ready to face whatever came next, confident that I could navigate the future on my terms, supported by the heartbeat of my family’s legacy.