I Still Pray with My Legs: 8 Lessons from ARVD

Since 2010 I am reminded of something on this day: I am bionic. That should make me feel badass...superhuman...even futuristic? Instead, it is one of the greatest sources of humility in my life (I have several!). I'd like to say that my ICD reminds me of my humanity and my limitations, but the irony is that the very thing it's connected to, my heart reminds me of that truth just as often. The Creator knew what He was doing when he tied literal and metaphorical matters into the same organ.

This is me. It's scary to think too much about, but it's pretty cool too.

In the six years since my diagnosis of ARVD, I have had to let go of many things but I have gained others. Some of the greatest gifts I still hold were given to me at the hardest time—when I was diagnosed and implanted. So in honor of that miracle—and it is one—here are the lessons I learned from an eight day stay at CPMC hospital. There's one for each day.

1. The Miracle is Diagnosis
I show the documentary "Venus and Serena" in Sports and Spirituality every semester; it is utterly captivating. I've written about it many times and I have given the DVD to about three different friends. The unsuspecting viewer is in for much more than a film featuring the triumph of two black sisters from Compton, CA and the success they never should have had. No, it rounds out these two great athletes: they are fashoinistas, shrewd business women; they are best friends and they have had their fair share of injuries and health concerns. 

In addition to various injuries, in the mid-2000s Venus was forced to withdraw from many tournaments due to incessant fatigue, joint pain and what she believed to be a viral illness. Fortunately for Venus, her doctor was able to determine she has an autoimmune disease known as Sjogren's syndrome. 

As I watched this part of her story unfold, I said to myself "the miracle is diagnosis." I don't know if I made that up or learned it from someone, but I consider it a poignant truth. By changing her diet dramatically and adapting a "new normal," Venus was able to return to the tour again.

Once you know what you have, you can work with it. You learn what you can and can't do...or more realistically what you should and shouldn't do. You know how to proceed. I lived with uncertainly for nearly five years about my heart health. I used to joke that I didn't want to be one of those people who dies on the golf course. The sad and scary truth is that I could have been. Once you know you cannot not know. I implore anyone who has questions about their health to work with their physician and others to get answers. #MiracleDX

2. I believe in the Communion of saints
The communion of saints one of my favorite topics to write about only because I have seen saints at work so often in my life. June 22, 2010 is one of those times. Before I went on that fateful run that sent me into cardiac arrest, I went for a brief walk that took me past what was my grandparents' home at 35 Ashbury Street. I hadn't done that in years; I called my mom to tell her where I was and we discussed a few of our memories from their home. Less than 30 minutes later I was in an ambulance heading to the ICU. I will never be able to prove it as true, but I believe my Grandma was with me that day. 

As my heart rate climbed to 275, I stayed calm. I determined I should call 911 at the right time. Cyclists with cell phones passed me at that moment and stayed with me until the EMT arrived on the scene. You can call it luck, but I see my grandma's hand in all of this. 

one of my favorite photos of my mom and grandma

Jim Heft writes, through belief in the Communion of saints, we recognize that "Even though people die, we stay in touch with them and they with us. How is this possible? It is possible through Baptism by which we enter into the death and resurrection of Jesus. Even though Jesus died, he rose from the dead, remaining even more present than when he was on earth to all who believed in him. We live in Christ. Those who have died believing in Christ remain alive in him.Therefore, whether dead or alive, we are connected in love. So when your grandmother who loved you very much dies, we believe that she now continues in heaven to love who she loved on earth, but with much greater intensity and depth and selflessness."

My grandma believed in Christ. She loved God and loved her family—especially my mom. Though she died long ago, her love remains. And St. Ignatius has said "love is shown in deeds more than in words." My greatest memories of my grandma are those of her great love in action—playing cards with me and letting me win, teaching me how to make pie crust from scratch, singing Irish folk songs and more. On this day, she was working in ways I can't explain.

3. Just Show Up

One of the corporal works of mercy is to "Visit the Sick." I understand why. When your health is compromised, you are viscerally hungry for love and friendship. I remember taking to the kindness of certain nurses as though it were a drug and when friends came, so did a litany of distractions, laughs, questions, stories, gifts, treats and more. I still remember what some friends brought with them, like magazines I never would have purchased for myself, but enjoyed reading. Thank you Kealy for purchasing that issue of Vanity Fair. It's sad to say, but the transgressions of Tiger Woods passed a good chunk of time quite quickly. Or, if you know me, you know I'm a big believer in banana bread. Who knew it was my most welcome post-surgery meal? Thanks Betsy! When my family showed up, I remember I could be myself. I didn't have to talk. I could be testy or unpleasant, happy or sad. I didn't have to put on a face of courage or of fear. You never forget those who "Just Show Up" when you are sick.

4. Stay with Me
I can't hear the 2014 Pop hit "Stay with Me" and NOT think of the late SportsCenter host, Stuart Scott. Though Sam Smith's monster hit was overplayed on the radio, it aptly served as the background of Scott's biopic at the 2014 ESPY awards.

Those same words also remind me of a choice my mom made and didn't think twice about. I went in for surgery at 8:00 a.m. and the surgery lasted seven hours. I was transported back to my room and when I woke up, I saw my Mom sitting there and looking at me. I had no idea how much her presence would mean to me. The night before, I told my dad not to come; he and my mom didn't both need to be there. I figured I would come out of the surgery and be fine by my lonesome. To see my mom, smiling and at peace that I came out okay made my heart swell.

It's one thing to show up, it's another to stay. Thanks Mom.

5. You'll never be lonely with a good book
In 1983, we visited our family in Ireland where my appendix decided to rupture and remain as medical waste on the Emerald Isle. It couldn't have been fun for my brother and sister to have their nine-year old sister in the hospital for five days. I'm not sure how my parents managed it all, but they did. When everyone left to return to the Bed and Breakfast at night, I remember feeling a little bit lonely and scared, but not entirely so. And that's because I had a picture book of kittens. 

I was reminded of that book when my nine-year old niece Grace saw a poster of those furry cuties and yelled out "KITTENS!" with glee. I was transported back to that time and place when I felt comforted by something as simple as a good book, even if it's a picture book.

Laura Bush who is an only child said she never felt depressed or lonely growing up because she loves to read. Her words have stayed with me because I think they are true. I don't know if I already had it or if a friend brought it (Skol?) but I read John Daly's autobiography "My Life in and Out of the Rough" from start to finish. Eight days at CPMC hospital and I'm happy to report, it was hard to feel lonely with a big guy, big personality like JD and all the other magazines and articles friends brought. It nourished my mind and my heart. 

6. Stories nourish us

Any extended stay in an unwanted place is likely to build character, teach virtue and test one's humanity. But I also think it will yield a fair share of good stories. My stint in the hospital prompted good ones and sad ones. Regardless, they are mine to tell.

One the hardest stories I hold is about Jill Costello, a young woman I worked with coaching novice crew at St, Ignatius. Jill died the night before I was scheduled to have my surgery. I can't forget the e-mail our Father president wrote about her passing. I read it alone in my room, praying with the image of Jill in her mother's arms when I was interrupted by an unwelcome surprise. A nurse asked me to sign waivers about the implantation of my ICD, informing me of the risks involved with it. I didn't think I would need an ICD. I was hoping for an ablation and a quick procedure. The doctors knew much more.

Jill's death gave me the grace to accept a new life. She has given thousands of people thousands of gifts. For many with battle lung cancer, she has given an important face to a disease that is riddled with stigma (due to cigarette smoking. Jill was a non-smoker). I still feel connected to Jill in a profound way. She left me a grace—to live as she did, even though she no longer could (see Communion of saints).  I share her story with all of my students today. I know it is one of the most important ones that they hear. 

And there are countless others. I think of the $1000 ambulance ride from St. Mary's hospital to CPMC. I shared what was essentially a very expensive taxi ride with my good friend and colleague Naj. We both thought the EMTs were adorable (one was a lefty!) and they got a big kick out of us too. After they left us, Naj said "you know they think we are together." I'm sure she's right; I'll take that as a compliment ;-)

And my favorite story comes from....

7. Champions come from the heart
I can't wait to watch the "30 for 30" about John Daly that should be released soon. I already know a lot of what it will share. I'm didn't know what someone could be addicted to M&Ms among 10 other addictions he holds. Regardless, the a theme from his autobiography also served as the title of my reflection about my diagnosis in 2010. I'll let those words speak for what I learned six years ago and those I've posted today affirm many of those sentiments.

8. I still pray with my legs
Rabbi Abraham Heschel has written "I pray with my legs as I walk." I always prayed as I ran, when I ran. The two were one in the same. Today it's different, and it's still hard to believe that it's something I no longer do... so I'll share my "Love Letter to Running" tomorrow. 

But I recently heard a great quote by Dr. Martin Luther King that touched my heart.

If you can't fly, then run.
If you can't run, then walk.
If you can't walk, then crawl.
But whatever you do, keep moving forward.

It's not a bad way for any one of us to live our lives. Keep moving forward. Do so with other people, and please know you'll meet some remarkable people along the way.

Photo Credits
Venus
Kittens
ICD

What's in Your Tennis Bag? What's in Your Heart?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the heart this past year—what it does as our most vital organ—literally and metaphorically. In late June 2010, I was diagnosed with a rare heart condition and implanted with a pacemaker/defibrillator. Essentially it aids my defective heart; potentially it can save my life. Pacemakers are fairly common; defibrillators and ARVD (my condition) are not. In a similar vein, I would like to think my beliefs about heart health are widely understood and accepted, but today I would like to offer one that is not.

In his autobiography “Open,” Andre Agassi says “The tennis bag is a lot like your heart—you have to know what’s in it at all times."

I am sure every cardiologist in America could read this and agree—hopefully there is an absence of cholesterol or plaque and instead it is a muscle that transmits oxygenated blood efficiently and effectively. But Agassi is speaking of something different.

What’s in your heart? Peace? Gratitude? Envy? Solace? Bitterness? Joy? Love? All of the above?

I hope my heart pumps virtue, but from time to time I find that some of the aforementioned vices creep in. For example, bitterness is both unattractive and insidious. Unless I am sincerely grateful, seeking to forgive others and myself, it slowly builds. No one will need a triple bypass to remove bitterness, but it’s a noteworthy image to remind us what can occur.

July 1 was the feast to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In his posting “Why Pray to the Sacred Heart? Father Pat McCloskey, O.F.M states “This devotion, promoted especially by St. Margaret Mary Alacoque (d. 1690), was and is a way of softening the image of God as primarily lawgiver, judge and punisher. Devotion to the Sacred Heart says two things at the same time: Jesus is indeed fully human (people regard the heart as the seat of human emotions) and God forgives those who repent.” The Catechism (P:1439) reminds us that....Only the Heart of Christ who knows the depths of his Father's love could reveal to us the abyss of his mercy in so simple and beautiful a way. The devotion especially emphasizes the unmitigated love, compassion, and long-suffering of the heart of Christ towards humanity.

We are called to live like Christ and the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart reminds me that I am to love like Christ as well. That’s not an easy thing to do; the Gospel is testimony of Jesus’ love for those who society shuns. His example and the image of the Sacred Heart however, can serve as spiritual tools. With both in mind, perhaps I can live and love more like Him.

During the French Open, the Tennis Channel ran a series of ads entitled “Bag Check.” It was fun to see the many personalities on the tour run through their “briefcase.” And it’s been fun for me to think of it as symbolic of their heart.

Wimbledon finalist Novak Djokovic carries quite a bit in his bag. It’s entertaining to watch him pull out a gift from his brothers, a Serbian flag that he won via Davis Cup, a hat from his beloved homeland, a bracelet featuring the saints and a triptic of his patron saint. The metaphor comes to life; what’s in his heart is without a doubt in his bag.

Playing singles tennis for me can seriously compromise my heart health but golf is my new love. I now use my golf bag as my metaphor. What’s in my golf bag? What’s in my heart? Whatever your sport, take inventory!

Photo Credits
Agassi with his bag
Sacred Heart Icon
Djokovic's Heart is in Serbia

The Back Nine: John Daly & Me

Originally, this posting was to serve as a book review of John Daly’s autobiography “My Life In and Out of the Rough: The Truth Behind All that Bull**** You Think You Know About Me” but, truly there are few redeeming qualities to this bestseller. It is the same read as Priscilla Presley’s “Elvis & Me.” I am no speed reader, but for some reason that book captivated my imagination for a fortnight—kidding—rather in just a few hours. I devoured it cover to cover; I enjoyed reading such an intimate portrait of “The King.” Elvis was larger than life—literally and figuratively, and somehow, someway, so is John Daly.

The book is more about his life “in the rough,” than out of it. The New York Times said “Daly’s book is a chart of celebration and self-destruction and selfishness…” He made claims to his assorted addictions—alcohol, gambling, chocolate and sex. (Do you know how much chocolate one has to eat to be addicted to it?) Thanks to Tiger’s recent” transgressions” we know the image of golf as a “gentleman’s game” is a façade.Yet, his tales about how he came to play in his first PGA tour event and winning the British Open in a play-off on the Old Course at St. Andrews hold their own weight. Minus the way most golf stories include one to two parts addiction, their entertainment value is high and the reader can’t help but understand why the crowd loves “Big John.”

Daly wrote this book in 2006, shortly after his 40th birthday. Today, his name reappears every so often on the tour and my guess is he is still battling the same demons. But, as he so candidly reports “I’m lucky: I was born with a special talent for hitting a little white ball and making people happy. I’m really and truly optimistic: I think I’m going to do even better on the back nine.”

The Back Nine...for John Daly I’m sure he is referring to his next 40 years. For others, the back nine is a analogous to a watershed moment and for me, it is my life before I was diagnosed with my heart condition, ARVD. I am coming to terms with the reality that my life is going to be much different. The type and amount of physical activity and exercise I can now do, is limited and needs to be monitored. However, I am grateful to be in the game; it could have been a nine-hole course.

As I have been learning more about my health, I know there are courses that are much more challenging out there. Some have longer greens, others face more wind or adverse weather conditions. For example, I think of a young, beautiful Haitian professional dancer named Fabienne Jean. The TODAY show gave a report on July 12, six months after the earthquake in Haiti took lives and livelihoods of tens of thousands of people And, it took the soul of Fabienne when, she lost her leg. It was heart wrenching to see a once graceful fluid dancer, now an amputee just sitting day in and day out, on a plastic chair, along the roadside in her village. It looked as though she were waiting for someone or something, but considering the dire needs of so many people in her country, I could not imagine what. I thought about her “back nine” and could only see bunkers, bogeys…a whole lot of rough.

But “the Lord hears the cry of the poor. Blest be the Lord.” Fabienne reveals the truth in Psalm 34 as a company from the United States delivered and fit hundreds of men, women and children with prosthesis. It was and honor and a privilege to see this woman liberated with a prosthetic, to see her spirit come alive once again and to witness her total freedom as she expressed herself through dance. She may dance differently, but she dances again. I can’t wait to see what she does in the back nine.

 
As John struggled and battled on his front nine, I wished he had a strong faith in God to lead and guide him. He admits “I’m not a real religious person. My relationship with God is personal. But I think I was put here on earth for a purpose, and that purpose has to do with helping people. Everybody’s always asking me how come people love you so much? Is it because you hit a golf ball a long way? I don’t think so. Maybe at first, but shit, there are a lot of guys out there now who hit the ball just as far as I do. I think people love me because they know—they feel—that I love them. And I do."

As nonredeemable as John Daly’s story may be, it’s true. He loves people and the fans love him. I hope he will let these words guide his back nine. We’ll be there giving him high fives and chanting “Champions Come from the Heart.” At least I will….

Photo Credits
Cover Shot:
Classic British Open
Back Nine
Fabienne waits

Injuries are part of the game...and yet Champions come from the heart

I grew up on Wimbledon Road. Although I am no “Anglophile,” Wimbledon has always captured my attention and imagination. Perhaps it is because it occurs during the very heart of summer, but to me, this tourney is a cut above and the 2009 men’s championship match proves just that. When Roger Federer defeated Andy Roddick, not only did he complete the longest final in Wimbledon history, he became the most successful male tennis player in the history of the game. Before an audience of tennis greats—Bjorn Borg, Rod Laver and Pete Sampras, Roger Federer won his 15th Grand Slam title.

I watched in total awe as this tremendous athlete accepted his award with simple joy, total class and curiously enough, not in total exhaustion. The match itself was memorable and yet, so was one of his insights. When asked “How does it feel to return to the number one ranking in the world as a result of this victory?” Federer replied “It’s nice to have that back. I’m aware that Rafa didn’t play. Injuries are part of the game, unfortunately.”

In this colossal moment, Federer revealed a humble truth, albeit one he benefited from (as his greatest competitor Rafael Nadal did not even enter Wimbledon due to tendinitis in both quadriceps). Injuries are part of the game. It is unfortunate and the reality of them raises many questions. Why are some athletes beleaguered by them? How do others seem to escape them? Some athletes recover from their injuries and tragically, some never do. Federer’s words stayed with me and in some small, odd way, prepared me for a new chapter in my life.


On Monday, June 28 I was officially diagnosed with Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Dysplasia (ARVD). It is a rare genetic, progressive heart condition that affects the muscle of the right ventricle of the heart. I now have a pacemaker/defibrillator and an on-going relationship with my electro cardiologist. You could say it is more than an injury and it is. It is a set back and a call to a new way of living. However, like an injury it was diagnosed, treated (for now!) and will be managed for the rest of my days. In the same way that “Fed” gained from an unfortunate part of the game, it is impossible for me not to talk about all I have gained in spite of what my diagnosis has brought.


The primary insight is that the hand of God is continually at work in my life. I say this because I believe it true not only for me but for everyone. I have replayed in my mind a hundred times how what happened to me while running in Golden Gate Park could have been different. Despite that fact I wish I had made different choices prior to running that day, I cannot help but see the larger picture and the importance of it. I have always believed “the Lord is the master architect.” Although I am not certain what God is building, I recognize forcefully in my heart that God is in the middle of all of this (thanks Mary & Marty!). God is lovingly leading and guiding me, even in this mess.

The second insight is the importance of being surrounded by a community of faith. For several days, I had difficulty praying, period. I just didn’t know what I should say to God; I wasn’t in a space where I was able to listen. Fortunately, my family, friends and the St. Ignatius community did the heavy lifting. I am still humbled by the generosity, in particular the spiritual generosity of so many. Honestly, the outpouring of love and prayers was overwhelming. Because of it, my fear was often assuaged.

Third is the saving power of grace. I came to terms with my condition on the same day that a brave young woman I coached, Jill Costello died. All year, I read messages from the SI community about her battle against Stage IV Lung Cancer and then swiftly yet softly, I learned of her surrender. Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will. I sat in the hospital and wondered how I could possibly pray for myself when a young woman had suffered so much more. I knew I was raising a natural question and yet I knew God was somehow with me, even then. Luckily, that night I was able to talk to a friend who has lived with a pacemaker for many years. The next day, I found out my surgery was to be postponed until Monday. Although I did not want to stay in the hospital over the weekend, in those days of waiting, God gave me the grace to accept what my future would bring. Give me only your love and your grace that is enough for me.

Such grace is a gift from God. It is given freely and it is transformative. Fortunately, we receive God’s grace every time we take part in the sacraments. Even on those days when I found it difficult to pray, I was hungry for the Eucharist. At St. Mary’s hospital, the chaplain and I were able to discuss the beauty of Catholicism resides in the sacramental life. Nothing was was more true as I received deeper nourishment; one I have always known to sustain me—that being Jesus in the Eucharist. During the week in the hospital, as I spoke several times with our principal, I recalled that unlike Alberto Salazar a champion runner I have interviewed and who I now share a common history with (he too had his heart reset with electricity via the defibrillator) I did not receive the “Last Rites.” Patrick reminded me that I could receive the "Sacrament of the Sick" freely and as many times as needed. It was overwhelming for me to receive this sacrament from Fr. Walsh. It was almost surreal—I think of myself as a healthy person. I almost pride myself about it. In this moment, I realized my true humanity, its limitations and its dependence on God. We are all prone to injury. They are indeed part of the game.

Federer put so much in perspective that day. He added that he wasn’t playing tennis just to break records and he hopes to play the game for many more years. I share his outlook. Nine years from now I will have a new pacemaker/defibrillator and I am sure it will only be smaller and more sophisticated. With ongoing treatment, I hope to keep the scar tissue in my lower right ventricle at bay and I need to make choices to sustain it. I have hundreds of people to thank for their pure presence in the hospital. There were some true MVPs of friendship and of love. My own mother, a retired nurse deserves her own royal box, at the very least a bow, for being and doing what she says she is supposed to do as a mother.

One of my favorite gifts amid the daily ice cream cones from McDonald’s, Sports Illustrated and contraband coffee/food rations was John Daly’s autobiography: My Life In and Out of the Rough. (It is so bad it is good). Daly has battled much, much more than a few injuries. However the motto of his story is one that is written above the door opening out onto the University of Arkansas football field. Similar to Notre Dame football players who hit a sign that reads “Play Like a Champion Today,” Razorbacks hit one that may trump that of my beloved Irish. “Champions come from the heart.” Injuries may be part of the game, but I know this is true, Champions come from the heart….Amen.

Oh, and if you have followed Wimbledon this year, you know that Rafael Nadal not only won the 2010 French Open, he is currently playing in the men’s semifinals.

Image Credits
King Fed
Four Greats
Ignatius of Loyola Suscipe
Others by Stricherz' iPhone