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| Christmas 2013 |
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| Christmas 2013 |
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| Summer visit 2014 |
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| Summer visit 2014 |
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| Summer 2014 |
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| Summer 2014 |
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| Summer 2014 (at Bookworm Gardens) |
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| Summer 2014 (at the Wagon Wheel) |
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| Summer 2014 (wearing his Manny Pack) |
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| Transplant time: Sept 2014 |
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| September 2014 |
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| My brother and my dad: September 2014 at Froedtert Hospital |
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| September 2014 |
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| September 2014 |
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| The hospital room: September 2014 |
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| Me and my dad: September 2014 |
On September 19, 2014, I traveled to see my dad. This was the second trip like this that I had taken: get a phone call, hop on a plane. He had been admitted to the hospital the night prior for a heart transplant. My entire family had waited for the news that precipitated the phone call for almost 18 months, and the fact that the phone call came
at all was akin to winning the lottery. To put it mildly, this was very exciting and the anticipation was great.
But during that trip, the ride to the airport, walking around the concourse and aboard the airplane, all of the regular things happened. Regular things like someone talking on their phone distractedly walking and then stopping short three feet in front of you. Some people were pleasant, others were rude, but life just kept trudging on. The usual get-along-with-other-human-beings-type stuff was required of me. While I was having a momentous occasion inside my own head, other people were in their heads.
Have you ever had one of those egocentric moments where you just want everyone to feel what you’re feeling? Usually, for me, it’s when I’m sad or distraught.
How can you people laugh when there is a refugee crisis and babies are dying? But, in this situation, it was different. How can you idiots keep living your mundane life when there is a heart transplant operation going on in Milwaukee right now and MY DAD is the recipient!
Here is the gift that the heart transplant was to me that day: Nothing could get me down. NOTHING. My dad, who had lived with an internal heart pump for over a year, was going to get the freedom to live a normal life again. He would be able to shower. My mother would not have to do the daily dressing changes for the driveline opening. He wouldn’t have to carry a 10 pound “man purse” around that contained his external power source. So, when some guy acted like a dummy in the seat in front of me, I calmed myself down in a jiffy:
No sense in getting upset! My dad is getting a heart transplant right now, so whatever is bugging this guy is most decidedly not worth my energy. And just like that, I was removed from my tense reality and transported into a lighter place where
dumb stuff doesn't matter.I think that there are a lot of moments in my life today, over a year since the transplant, where I still dwell upon this moment. When someone drives like a jerk, when I realize that I forgot to cancel the Audible subscription for the fourth month in a row, when I come face to face with an aggravating experience that confronts my own moral character. All of these occasions require that I stop, pause, and reflect. And I still say, “Nothing can get me down. My dad had a heart transplant.”
These words and this sentiment are my gift to you.
Maybe you can celebrate your new job, or a friend’s news that the biopsy was benign. Maybe you're pumped that your beloved sports team won or that you found a great deal on your favorite underwear. It could be light, it could be very deep. Maybe you can dwell on the whole amazing news that Christians celebrate daily: Jesus was born. He died, and he LIVES AGAIN. Whatever it is that brings you to the realization that, “Nothing can get me down,” I encourage you to do it. For me, I have been blessed many times. I’ve made it through obstacles of my own many times, and I am most undoubtedly a Believer. But, to this day, what sits in my heart most deliberately whenever I am apt to wallow or complain:
Nope, no sense in getting upset. Life is too good. My dad had a heart transplant.
***Author's note: This is part of my "New Year's Resolution" to write more.***
