Keynote for Heart Brothers Foundation

In August of 2022, I was asked by the Heart Brothers Foundation to give a keynote address at their annual fundraiser, a golf outing followed by a banquet. I was nervous about the prospect of playing eighteen holes of golf and then giving a speech, but it turned out that they only wanted a very short speech. The audience members were folks who have experienced heart failure, their supporters and family members, and members of the community who came out to play round of golf and contribute to a great cause. Here’s what I said to them.

Thanks to the Heart Brothers for inviting me to speak to you today, and to everyone who has come out to play golf and come together as a community in support of a great cause. Patrick told me to speak for around ten minute or less, so I want you to know that I was an English professor for twenty years, and it was a point of pride to me to end class on time. Today will be no exception. I am going to tell you one story and make one point.

My story began in October 2021, when I was on a golf trip to play several courses on the Robert Trent Jones Trail in Alabama. Assuredly it was hot and we played a lot of golf for those few days, but something did not feel right in my body. I could feel times when my heart was racing, or skipping beats, and I was extremely tired. A week or two after I came back, I was preparing to give a virtual keynote speech for a university in California, and felt my heart beating in wildly irregular rhythms. I canceled the speech, drove myself to the emergency room, and was diagnosed with myocarditis, which is inflammation in the heart muscle. Myocarditis is often caused by a viral or bacterial infection, and as the body fights off the infection, the heart heals itself. But in some cases, the inflammation goes in the other direction. After just a few days in a hospital in Worcester, the doctors realized that my life was in danger, and sent me on a midnight ambulance ride to Tufts.

Then the parade of life-support machines began. It started with a balloon pump, then ECMO, then ventricular assistive devices. Around the time I had the VAD surgery I caught pneumonia, and I was put into a coma for a week to help give my lungs the chance to heal. We had been told that I would need a new heart, and it took a few weeks for me to gain the strength I would need to withstand the surgery. But it was only two weeks from the time I was listed for transplant and the time I received my new heart. The universe was not quite done with me yet, though—I had a stroke during the surgery, which meant that I could not speak when I woke up, and had some weakness and paralysis along the whole right side of my body.

That’s my story. Of course it has a very happy ending. I am standing here before you today, having played golf—not necessarily well, but I played—I have regained my voice, and I feel great. I am back to writing, speaking, exercising, spending time with my family, playing golf—all the important things in life.

Many medical staff, from doctors and nurses to phlebotomists and floor techs, facilitated my recovery, and I will be forever grateful to them. And of course, I am grateful to my donor and her family for their gift of life to me. But today I want to highlight the community of people who supported me throughout my ordeal—and the role that community plays in the lives of all of us who suffer. Medical professionals saved my life; but it was the community around that gave me the will to live.

I can trace the origins of that will to my wife, Anne, who came to my hospital room every single day for thirteen weeks. After I had been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, and every piece of news we received from the doctors was bad, I began to resign myself to the idea that my life was coming to a close. I was so tired and defeated that I was ready to let go. Anne wasn’t going to let that happen. “Too many people care for you, Jim,” she said, “including our five children, for you to give up now.” And she was right. That was the moment that truly started my recovery, even though I had a long way to go. She’s right over there, by the way, and she deserves a hand.

Later Anne brought this bag to me in the hospital, so I could see exactly how many people cared for me. This bag is filled with cards from family, friends, neighbors, work colleagues, golf partners, and even some strangers. Many of the cards contained gift cards for local restaurants for Anne and the kids. There were rosaries, mass intentions, and someone had even knitted me a prayer shawl. I have four siblings, all of whom came to my bedside for multiple visits. My children were of course on a regular rotation of hospital room visits. Two of my former colleagues at Assumption University went around campus interviewing people about the impact that I had made on their lives, and compiled it into a thirty-minute video that I watched in the hospital. And in the meantime text messages and email messages came pouring in on a daily basis.

These expressions of community gave me the will to fight my life, and continue to sustain me today. Nobody should suffer alone. We are all called to sit at the bedsides of those who need us.  By being here today, you have joined a community that supports people who are suffering from heart failure.

The Heart Brothers Foundation is an essential part of that community. They benefited my family in multiple ways during my time in the hospital. The apartments that they make available to the family of heart patients was a blessing for Anne and the children, since it meant that they didn’t have to commute every day between Worcester and Tufts for a month. Anne decorated it for Christmas, and it became a home-away-from-home for all of them.

But remember that people like me, in the worst moments of their lives, need more than financial support. They need to know that you care about them. They need your expressions of community. If you know someone in your life who is suffering, whether or from heart failure or something else, become a part of their community. The card you mail, the prayer you offer on their behalf, the text message you send—those small gestures could save someone’s life. It was one sentence from my wife that returned my will to live. You might make the same difference in someone else’s life.

Thanks to all of you who came here today to be part of the community that supported me, my wife, and my children—and the Heart Brothers Foundation.  Thank you.