THE SHORT STORY:
In 2005, I learned I had a defective heart valve that would require open heart surgery in about 20 years. It was discovered that I had mitral valve prolapse with regurgitation.
My cardiologist nailed the timing. In mid-2025, my annual echocardiogram revealed that the valve problem had progressed to the point where surgery was necessary.
After 19 years of the intimidating specter of open heart surgery gnawing at me, I now had to prepare myself for the biggest challenge of my life.
I leveraged everything I had learned over 40 years of athletic competition to mentally prepare myself. In addition, I drew inspiration from a chance meeting I had, back in 2005, with one of the greatest Olympic athletes in history, Mark Spitz.
Leveraging Mark Spitz’s race advice, I developed a mantra to prepare me for the surgery that I told myself repeatedly.
The Mantra:
I am not going to be afraid
I am going to visualize myself having successful surgery, and I’m not going to think about anything else
I am going to visualize myself having a full recovery, and I’m not going to think about anything else
I am going to enjoy the experience
In the couple of months before the surgery, I said this mantra to myself multiple times each day, and also when I went to sleep.
And it worked!
On October 30, 2025, I had a mitral valve repair via a sternotomy (the medical term for cracking open your chest).
I tolerated the surgery incredibly well and recovered remarkably fast.
And most of all, I faced the surgery and recovery with no fear.
I’m writing this article as a way to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who helped me through this, most of all my beautiful and talented wife, Heather, who was with me every minute, and was my constant inspiration. She also bore the weight for 20 years of the impending surgery.
I wish to share the details of my story so that I may help others who are facing this daunting surgery and pay forward the advice I received that was most helpful.
My quick message for everyone facing open heart surgery for a mitral valve repair is a positive one - don’t be afraid, you’re going to be fine, it’s easier to get through than you are likely imagining. The surgery has a near 100% success rate.
THE FULL STORY
In 2005, I qualified to be a member of the United States Open team to the Maccabiah Games, an international Olympic style competition that takes place every 4 years in Israel. I would be running the metric mile, the 1500 meters. Because I was 41 years old, the organizers of the Games required that I pass an EKG test to ensure proper heart functioning.
I thought nothing of the EKG. After all, I was incredibly fit. At age 41, I could run a mile in 4:40 and a half mile in just a little over 2 minutes. As a competitive runner for over a quarter-century, I was certain that my heart was stronger than 99.99% of the population.
But then came the rude awakening when my when my primary care physician essentially told me that I had flunked the EKG. There was a problem that he didn’t understand in the output, and he told me I needed to see a cardiologist.
I Flunked the EKG
This was alarming, but I still remained confident that there couldn’t be much of an issue since I felt absolutely perfect and I regularly passed informal stress tests with my daily workouts, which often were filled with gut wrenching intervals (a track term for sprints) that took my heart rate right to the max.
I was additionally comforted that my wife’s cousin, who I was very friendly with, was a top cardiologist. Naturally, I immediately made an appointment to see him, and he sent me to have an echocardiogram.
The Day That Changed My Life
The follow up appointment to review the results of the echocardiogram literally changed my life. I learned that the indefatigable, 100% fit heart I thought I had from 25 years of hard daily training was in fact seriously flawed. Even though I felt perfect, I had mitral valve prolapse with mild regurgitation.
In layman’s terms, my mitral valve did not close after each heartbeat as it is supposed to, and blood flowed backwards into the left atrium, causing it to enlarge and some blood was even leaking into the lungs. It was a condition I was almost certainly born with. One of the telltale signs for the cardiologist is a murmur. And I recalled when I was 9 years old a doctor telling my mother that he heard a murmur in my heart.
Okay for Now, But in 20 Years…
My cousin-in-law, the cardiologist, told me that I’m okay now. I should keep doing what I’m doing to stay in good shape. He even cleared me to run in the international competition. The only restriction he gave me was not to lift something so heavy that I had to “bear down.” This was the good news.
He also told me something that made me shudder. He informed me that the regurgitation, the backwards flow of blood, would progress from mild to moderate to severe, and there was nothing that I, nor he, could do to stop it.
When it reached severe, I would require surgery. And that surgery would be open heart surgery. That was the bad news.
But he tempered that by predicting that I would not reach the severe stage for 20 years, and that by that time a non-invasive clip, that was in trials in 2005, might be perfected to solve the problem. That was more good news.
So there was good news and bad news. I didn’t have an acute problem. I could go about my life as I had been. I could even compete in the international competition. But I now had the prospect of potentially requiring open heart surgery unless this mitral clip technology could advance in time for me, in 20 years.
Coming to Grips With Open Heart Surgery
It’s a difficult thing at any age to have to face your mortality. Of course, we all do at some point. But when you’re 41, physically fit, have 3 little kids, and feel like you’re still in your 20s, it is a rude awakening to find out that you have an existential problem, even if it’s 20 years in the future.
As much as I tried to simply forget about the mitral valve prolapse (MVP), I couldn’t completely eradicate this gnawing thought in the back of my mind that there was now a time limit on my heart. There was now a barrier I must cross, like a tollbooth, or a right of passage, before I could have the privilege of entering old age. I could not simply age gracefully like most people. I would need my heart fixed if I wanted to live a long life.
Sharing the News
I came home from the cardiologist and shared the news with my wife Heather. Since before we were married, we felt bonded together, as partners for life, with no secrets between us. Whatever was happening to one of us was happening to both of us. This would be our problem to face together. And I knew that somehow we would deal with it when the time came. It wouldn’t be pleasant, in fact it might be torturous, but we would get through it.
I also discussed with Heather that I preferred not tell anyone else, not my parents, not my kids, no one. I simply didn’t want anyone to worry and feel stressed, especially because there was every expectation that I would not have to deal with this problem for 20 years. And by that time, it might in fact be a simple fix with the non-invasive mitral clip.
Back to the Present
Now my focus went back to the present, to the international competition. In July, 2005, I went to the Maccabiah Games with the United States team. I was the oldest athlete on the USA track & field open team by at least 12 years, but I had qualified to be here. I knew I wasn’t going to be winning any medals. But I would have the honor of being a team member and proudly wearing the American uniform. It was a great feeling.
A few days after arriving in Israel, I experienced the wondrous grandeur of the opening ceremonies. Marching into the stadium with the USA team, wearing our USA sweatsuits was awesome. After we took our places on the infield of the giant soccer stadium, the athletes were allowed to mill around while the other national teams marched into the stadium.
Meeting Mark Spitz
It was at this time that I noticed a gathering of USA athletes around a stately looking man wearing a USA polo shirt instead of our uniform sweatsuits.
It was 55-year-old Mark Spitz.
It had been 33 years since Spitz had reached the pinnacle of his fame when he won a record 7 gold medals in swimming at the 1972 Olympics. Spitz was here as a guest of the Maccabiah organizing committee.
In the summer of 1972, at age 9. I remember being glued to the TV watching Mark Spitz win the 7 gold medals, and setting a world record in each of those 7 races. He had been one of my main inspirations to pursue athletics, even though I gravitated towards running over swimming.
I went over to the group and introduced myself to Mark Spitz and posed for the picture with him below.
Mark Spitz’s Advice
Then I had the opportunity to speak with him as part of the group that surrounded him. He was friendly and soft spoken. But when I asked him about racing strategy, he suddenly took on a different air. It was as if he transformed instantly back into the competitive athlete mindset. His whole demeanor, and in particular his eyes, took on a look of seriousness.
And then he said something that I and several people around me stopped to take in. It was a straight forward and powerful bit of advice.
He said, “When you wake up on the morning of a race, you have to visualize yourself winning, and you can’t think about anything else.”
When he said those words, you could see the competitive fire in his eyes. It was so powerful that the advice has been burned into my brain ever since. The combination of words and the way he said them left an immediate and indelible impression on me. And I sensed the others around me felt the same way. Coming from Mark Spitz it was captivating.
The 1,500 Meter Race
The next day was the 1500 meter race. I knew I had no chance to actually win the race. The leading competitors were world class milers. My goal was to perform well. So all day I kept telling myself, “I’m going to visualize myself having a successful performance, and I’m not going to think about anything else.”
That evening at the track, I felt better in my pre-race warm-up than I had for any race going back to when I was on the junior high school track team at age 14. I felt incredible. It was also highly motivating to have my wife Heather, and my mom and dad, and a large group of cousins there in the track stadium to watch me run.
The race was won in the equivalent of 4 minutes flat for a mile. I was about 38 seconds behind. But I was elated. I had run 4:21 for 1,500 meters. It was my masters (over age 40) personal record, and a time that qualified me as an All-American for masters track & field in the United States. It remains to this day the fastest 1,500 meters or mile that I ever ran over the age of 23.
It’s a precious memory for me to have run my fastest race over age 23 in the Maccabiah Games, and to have Heather and my parents and many of our cousins there to see it.
And I felt that I owed that magical performance to the advice from Mark Spitz.
Back to Work
I came home from this incredible trip and returned to my day job as a strategy manager at Bank of America. I frequently had to deliver presentations in front of large groups and facilitate day long meetings. I always found these to be daunting tasks.
One day, about 6 months later, as I prepped for another presentation in front of a large gathering of bank managers, I had an epiphany. The advice that Mark Spitz had shared could be adapted for virtually any challenge I faced, not just racing.
Before the meeting, I said to myself over and over, “I’m going to have a successful presentation, and I’m not going to think about anything else.”
Eradicating Negative Thoughts
It was in the preparation for this meeting, that I had the additional epiphany that the most powerful part of Spitz’s advice was the second half in which he said, “You can’t think about anything else.”
I realized that no matter how much I visualized having a good presentation, if I let negative thoughts creep into my mind (“what if this happens”, “what if that happens”), then it would make me fearful and detract from my performance.
I realized that to live by those words that Mark Spitz had shared required developing powerful control over your mind, to singularly focus on what you are attempting to achieve. If you could do that. If you could shut down all the doubts, all the little voices in your head posing every possible thing that could go wrong, if you could eliminate all negative thinking, then the first part, visualizing success, could become easy, because you would no longer have that gripping, and often debilitating fear of failure.
That was a game changer.
Using the Mantra for Every Challenge
I started using the Mark Spitz Mantra for every challenge in life - business meetings, airplane rides, and anything else that had me concerned about the outcome.
And it worked!
But the hard part always was controlling those negative thoughts. I could clearly visualize success, but stopping that little voice that tells you the million things that could go wrong is difficult work.
Annual Heart Checkups
Meanwhile, every year, I had an echocardiogram and an annual check up with my cardiologist (my cousin-in-law) to check on the progression of the MVP.
From 2005 to 2016, I did a pretty good job of keeping the MVP out of my daily thoughts. But every once in a while, it would creep into my mind and scare me, especially as years went by and it started becoming apparent that the mitral clip technology did not seem to be progressing. The notion that by the time I need to have surgery it will be non-invasive was slipping away.
During this time I also tried to comfort myself with fantasies that I won’t ever need the surgery, that MVP won’t be a problem for me. Or that all my cardio fitness was holding off the progression. That was fantasy because no medical journal literature on MVP supported that notion. No level of fitness could stave off the progression of the regurgitation.
The Bombshell Moments
Then came the bombshell. In 2017, my echocardiogram showed that I had crossed into moderate regurgitation.
Now I was just one step away from requiring surgery. At this point, my cardiologist told me I needed to stop any sprinting. That essentially meant I had to retire from competitive track. I was actually okay with that. I had been competing on and off for nearly 40 years. I had enough. It was time to move on to other things.
But that transition wasn’t overnight. Part of me enjoyed racing. It had been part of my identity since I was a kid.
I had a friend in the running community who was one of the top runners in his age group (65 - 69) in the entire country. And he was also a cardiologist. For the first time, I decided to get a second opinion.
Part of me, perhaps irrationally, perhaps in a bit of wishful thinking, imagined that the runner cardiologist might say to me, “Len, you have nothing to be concerned about with this MVP. They don’t understand a runner’s heart. You will never need the surgery.”
He didn’t say that.
Instead, the runner cardiologist had a heart-to-heart talk with me. He said “Len, everyone knows you’re a great runner. You have nothing left to prove. You need to stop running.”
He also told me I will need the surgery when I’m around 65 - 70.
That was a real wake up call.
My cousin-in-law cardiologist had not told me I needed to stop running, he just didn’t want me sprinting.
End of My Track Racing Career
I did continue running, but I stopped all fast running, and I stopped long distance running. I just ran just enough to stay in shape.
I started to realize that at age 53, it’s time to start developing an exercise routine designed to enable me to age well, rather than singularly focusing on running races. The extreme focus I had on running was not healthy anymore at my age. It over focused on some muscle groups and neglected others, in addition to taxing my heart.
I took the adage that I’m going workout all my muscle groups and keep them in balance. I also began to think about getting my body into the best shape possible to tolerate open heart surgery.
Contemplating Open Heart Surgery
Now that I had moderate regurgitation the prospect of the surgery was more top of mind. It was not debilitating in anyway, but it was just there in my mind. I couldn’t get out of my head that the two close family members of mine who had open heart surgery in the 1980s and early 1990s had both said they felt like they were going to die when they woke up in the recovery room. I also read that actor Robby Benson, who required four open heart surgeries for a congenital aortic valve condition, suffered tremendous post-surgery trauma. Since Robby was also a runner, and was young and in outstanding shape when he needed his first surgery, this was unsettling. If Robby had such a horrific experience at age 28, what would my experience be like?
Despite these negative thoughts, I stayed generally positive and happy. I deluded myself thinking that the timeline might be 30 years, not 20 years, meaning I might still have another 20 years until I needed surgery, long enough that I didn’t have to think about it.
Heather’s Medical Crisis
In 2022, I stopped thinking about my own health when my wife Heather had a medical crisis. An accumulation of jaw injuries had left her with a degenerating right TMJ joint. Testing revealed that the bones were actually shattered and she would need a TMJ joint replacement. The surgery was performed in 2023, but the prosthetic became infected. In 2024, the prosthetic had to be removed and Heather needed to go on IV antibiotics to eradicate the infection. Then a new prosthetic was inserted in early 2025.
Around this time, and perhaps because I had to think more responsibly during Heather’s crisis, I had the thought one day in early 2025 that maybe I should stop wishing that I won’t need the heart surgery for another 10 years. By that time I would be in my early 70s and perhaps not in the great physical shape that I was presently in. I started to think maybe I should just get this thing over, while I’m in great shape, rather than have it nagging me for another 10 years. But that was just a thought one day. My default mode was to hope that I wouldn’t need the surgery for many more years.
As Heather recovered from the last surgery, this multi-year nightmare seemed to be over in mid-2025, at about the time that I was due for my annual echocardiogram.
The 2025 Echo
I remember on the drive to the hospital to have the echocardiogram I felt so good that I thought, maybe they’ll find the regurgitation is getting better. It wasn’t a rational thought. But on the other hand, I really did feel that good.
Later that day I got the portal message that the echocardiogram results were available. I opened it up and read the report. By this time, I knew enough about what I was reading to get a sense of what it generally meant.
And my takeaway in a minute was bad news. The regurgitation had become severe. But even worse, now both the tricuspid valve and the aortic value had significant regurgitation. I instantly knew that this was the year. And after all, it was precisely 20 years, just as my cardiologist had predicted.
The Call From the Cardiologist
Later that day, I got a call from my cousin-in-law cardiologist. He told me what I already knew. He broke it to me gently. He said we will need to have a surgery conversation when I have the office visit.
I was 61 years old. I didn’t panic. Surgery was not happening next week. I had time to get myself ready. I rationally knew that I had to have the surgery in the next few months. But part of me still held out hope that maybe the cardiologist would tell me I didn’t need it for another year or two.
AFib
Prior to the office visit, I had an incident as I went to bed one night. After a relaxing evening watching a movie on television, I noticed my heart was beating funny. I took my pulse and it was racing, as if I had just sprinted a quarter mile. And not only was it racing, it was erratic. And yet I felt perfectly fine.
I didn’t panic because I’d actually had these episodes several times before and they’d always just gone away. I’d never mentioned them to my cardiologist because I was afraid he would tell me I needed the surgery, and in the years before 2025, I just wasn’t ready to hear that. And since I never actually felt bad during the episodes, it was easy and maybe convenient for me to just dismiss them.
The erratic, racing heartbeat did go away, but it took a few hours.
Start Researching Surgeons Now
When I had the office visit, I told the cardiologist about the heart racing incident. He told me that was almost certainly AFib, and that I should have gone to the ER. The AFib was indeed a sign that I needed the surgery.
The cardiologist was very clear. I needed the surgery before the end of the year.
I was at risk of a stroke if I had another AFib incident. There was also tiny chance of a catastrophic event if the mitral valve became completely stuck open. He told me that one of the leaflets was, “hanging on by a thread.” This would be an emergency situation which could be fatal. In fact, he’d lost a fellow colleague to this exact circumstance the year before. I put that thought in the back of my head and didn’t let it concern me.
Most important, the cardiologist told me to start researching surgeons. He was perfectly comfortable if I wanted to go to one of the surgeons right here in Jacksonville, and he recommended one. He also said if I want to go to one of the high volume cardiac centers, I had time to look into that. He specifically mentioned Dr. Adams at Mount Sinai in New York as a possibility. Other out of town alternatives would be high volume cardiac centers like Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota and the Cleveland Clinic in Cleveland.
The main criteria was get the surgery done before the end of 2025.
Get the Surgery Done Before the End of 2025
I went home and started researching and contacting surgeons’ offices that same afternoon.
I liked the idea of Dr. Adams, because he specialized in the so called minimally invasive open heart surgery technique. Minimally invasive was somewhat of a misleading name, perhaps designed to make people feel more comfortable with the idea of open heart surgery. It was still open heart surgery. It just meant they didn’t need to do a sternotomy, in which the breast bone is cracked open exposing the heart. In the minimally invasive approach they reach the heart from the side.
Cracking open my chest just sounded too intimidating. So minimally invasive seemed like the way to go.
Researching Surgeons
I immediately started researching surgeons and setting up consultations. I planned to first meet a local cardiac surgeon where I lived in Jacksonville, FL. I also made a telehealth consultation with Dr. Adams. In addition, I looked into Penn Medicine in Philadelphia because it was near family, and Heather and I had good experiences there for her second TMJ joint replacement surgery and three precursor surgeries to prepare for the joint replacement.
One of the cardiac surgeons at Penn Medicine was Dr. Michael Acker. I was impressed that he had performed 9,000 open heart surgeries, including 3,000 MVP repairs. I also liked the fact that he had authored many medical journal articles on MVP surgery. One of his articles found a clear inflection point in the success rates for MVP surgery if the surgeon was performing more than 35 MVP surgeries per year.
Dr. Michael Acker of Penn Medicine
What most impressed me about Dr. Acker was a video on the Penn Medicine website that showed Dr. Acker’s incredible talent for playing the acoustic guitar, and hearing him discuss his passion for both the acoustic guitar and open heart surgery. He also discussed the idea that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master playing the acoustic guitar.
I felt an immediate connection to Dr. Acker. Not because I play acoustic guitar, but because I have a deep appreciation for the 10,000 hour rule, and anyone who attempts to master a skill that way.
I had taken up juggling when I turned 40, and jugglers frequently talked about the 10,000 hour rule. I myself, was approaching 10,000 hours of juggling practice.
I figured anyone who thinks like that, who has that dedication, I could trust. In addition, I thought Dr. Acker must have incredible dexterity in his fingers, as an acoustic guitar player, and that had to benefit him in working on the heart.
Between his vast experience performing open heart surgeries, his prolific authorship of medical journal articles on MVP surgery, and his skill at acoustic guitar, I could feel comfortable putting my life in Dr. Acker’s hands.
The Leap to a Sternotomy
I called Penn Medicine to make a consultation appointment with Dr. Acker. They informed me that he won’t see me for a consultation unless I agree to have a sternotomy. That meant open heart surgery by cracking open the breast bone - the scenario I had hoped to avoid for 20 years.
The scheduler explained that Dr. Acker does not perform the minimally invasive open heart surgery technique because he feels he needs to be able to see the heart.
I thought about this for a minute and decided I should not let this rule out Dr. Acker. I would agree that if I selected Dr. Acker, I would have open heart surgery via a sternotomy.
That was a real leap for me.
Revealing the 20 Year Secret
After I spent time researching surgeons, I then began a long series of phone calls to family. It was kind of surreal, like I was in a movie. After 20 years, this dark secret was to be revealed. I first called my parents. Then I called my 3 children, who are all grown up and married. Then I called extended family and my best friends.
Every conversation was the same. I started out with this, “Do you have a few minutes, I have something to tell you. Twenty years ago I found out that I have a heart valve problem that I was born with…”
I ended the conversations the same way with everyone as well, “… The success rate for the surgery is near 100%. I’m in great shape. I’m going to be fine. I’m not concerned, and you shouldn’t be either.”
It was important to me that I not alarm or panic anyone for two reasons. First, I didn’t want anyone to be stressed. Second, I knew if anyone was stressed that it might stress me.
I didn’t sugar coat anything. What I told them was the truth. I was in great shape. I was still working out 2 - 3 hours every morning. And the medical literature indicated that success rates for MVP repair were near 100%, and you can’t say that about many other surgeries. So, there really was no rational reason to be concerned.
Consultations
About a week later I had the first consultation with the local cardiac surgeon. I thought if I could have the surgery done locally then I could convalesce at home, and that would be easier on me, and substantially easier on Heather. However, when we asked the local cardiac surgeon the key question from the medical journal article, “how many mitral valve surgeries do you perform a year,” he informed us that he doesn’t do many. Most of his surgeries are emergency surgeries.
He also said he would perform a valve replacement. And the medical journal literature I had read was clear on this point. You want a surgeon who can perform a repair if at all possible.
Meeting Dr. Acker
Next, I met with Dr. Acker in Philadelphia. I was immediately impressed with Dr. Acker. He discussed the different surgical options and he was emphatic that you want go with “repair, repair, repair.” He said it three times, forcefully.
He did say that there was a small possibility that once he saw the heart, he might find that he could not do a repair, and so we then discussed the two types of replacements. I knew the medical literature favored an animal valve over an artificial valve. And sure enough, Dr. Acker said he would have a cow valve ready for use, if needed, during the surgery. He strongly preferred the cow valve over the artificial valve.
Heather and I felt so good about Penn Medicine and Dr. Acker, that we immediately made the decision that we would have the surgery here. It was scheduled for approximately 8 weeks later, to take place on October 30, 2025.
I then canceled my telehealth consultation with Dr. Adams in New York. Dr. Adams couldn’t even see me for the consultation until early October. And an important consideration as well was that Heather was going to feel much more comfortable in a hotel for 5+ days in Philadelphia near Penn Medicine, where we unfortunately had spent quite a bit of time for her TMJ ordeal, than in New York, where she would be completely unfamiliar with the area.
Reality Sets In
Now reality really set in. I had a surgery date.
This was when I began my mental preparation. This was going to happen. I had to get ready.
Fortunately, I felt like I had spent most of my life, since I was 14, getting ready for supreme physical challenges, since I had been competing in middle distance track races on and off since 1978.
Middle distance races like the mile are perhaps the most grueling events on the track. The athlete is in a constant state of oxygen deprivation, which means you’re in pain during the entire race, as the body is grasping for air, screaming at you to stop. The mind has to push through this primal urge to slow down for you to perform well in the race.
Mental preparation for the mile is critically important to success. I’m convinced the truly great milers are those who have total command over their mind.
And now, I was going to leverage everything I had learned in 40 years of racing, including that incredible advice from Mark Spitz, to get ready for the upcoming challenge of open heart surgery.
Repeating The Mantra
I developed a mantra. I repeated it to myself several times a day. I said it to myself as I went to sleep at night. And I didn’t just say it. I did my best to internalize it and believe it.
I worked diligently at this.
Here was the mantra:
I am not going to be afraid
I am going to visualize myself having successful surgery, and I’m not going to think about anything else
I am going to visualize myself having a full recovery, and I’m not going to think about anything else
I am going to enjoy the experience
Preparing for Surgery
In addition to getting myself mentally prepared, there was quite a bit to keep me busy.
I had to go back to Jacksonville and have an external heart monitor placed on me for 2 weeks to capture necessary data for the surgeon.
I had to have a physical from my primary care physician to clear me for surgery.
I also had to visit the dentist for a dental clearance.
At work, I had to make plans to train someone to take on my project work while I was out. I had learned on a couple of Facebook forums for mitral valve patients that I might be able to go back to desk work in 2 weeks after the surgery.
These forums also proved to be incredibly helpful for getting answers to little questions like what to bring to the hospital, and anything else you were concerned about.
I also teach business innovation at the University of North Florida. I had to make plans for my graduate assistant to teach the class for at least 2 weeks and handle all grading and student matters.
In addition, I had to pull together documents required for the hospital including items such as a living will and power of attorney. And I had to ensure that our bank accounts were set up so that Heather had access to them in a worst case scenario.
All of this I approached in a detached, professional manner, telling myself I’m going to do the responsible thing, and not think about why I have to attend to these matters.
There were also lots of logistical preparations needed for the trip. I had to plan to be in the Philadelphia area for at least 3 weeks. We had to line up a hotel walking distance from the hospital for at least 8 days, including pre-surgery tests and a place for Heather to stay while I was in the hospital post-surgery.
For the post-hospital recovery, Heather and I would be staying with family, but I still had to ensure I had a proper set up.
All of this took quite a bit of time and planning. I really needed the whole 8 weeks.
Preparing for Recovery
I also made time to prepare myself for the hospital stay and recovery period in terms of things to keep my mind busy. I assumed that I might be in a high state of discomfort. And from prior minor surgeries, I knew that if I had things I enjoy, like books, music, videos, etc., that collectively, those things could keep my mind off the discomfort, and I would be fine.
I lined up a 60 song playlist of my favorite songs. And I stopped listening to those songs in that 8 weeks before the surgery. That way I had myself almost looking forward to the recovery so I could listen to all those songs.
Similarly I had books I couldn’t wait to read, and YouTube videos I desperately wanted to watch, all queued up.
The 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers Book
In my spare time, I’m a sports history writer. I write The Sports Time Traveler newsletter on Substack. And I had just started working on a book about the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers as a tribute to my dad when I found out about the need for the surgery.
A critical part of my research was to listen to the tapes of the 1955 World Series games, which are available on YouTube. I held off on listening to those games until I was recovering in the hospital. This was yet another thing that had me almost looking forward to being in the hospital so that I would have nothing to do but listen to those World Series baseball games and take my mind back somewhere else, back in time to 1955.
A Conversation with a Three-Time World Series Champion
Prior to working on the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers book, I had published a book titled, THE 1973 METS - YOU’VE GOT TO BELIEVE. The foreword for that book was written by my friend Ted Kubiak. I had a conversation with Ted a few weeks before the surgery that was very helpful, in fact it was a watershed moment for me.
You may not know the name Ted Kubiak, but his baseball resume is very long. The highlights are:
Key reserve infielder on all 3 Oakland A’s consecutive World Series Championship teams in 1972, 1973 and 1974
Scored the winning run in the 11th inning of game 3 of the 1973 World Series vs. the Mets
Considered by some sportswriters of the early 1970s to be the best infielder in the American League
Played 16 years in professional baseball, including 10 in the major leagues
Author of 2 great books on baseball (you can find them in Amazon by searching for “Ted Kubiak”
Ted knew my athletic background. When we talked, he explained to me that his ex-wife had gone through open heart surgery, and based on that experience he said I’m going to be fine. He was forceful about this. He spoke as if this was a fact and that I must accept it.
Here was a professional athlete, with multiple World Series rings, telling me I’ve got this. And I realized this is how winners think and I need to listen to him. I also remembered Ted telling me how in 1973, when the A’s came back to Oakland for games 6 and 7 of the World Series, down 3 games to 2 to the Mets, the entire A’s team just knew they were going to win those last 2 games at home, as if it had already happened.
Ted imploring me to think positive was a strong reinforcement of the Mark Spitz mantra that I was telling myself every day.
I’m very grateful to Ted Kubiak for that conversation.
Family Stories
There was one more thing I prepared that turned out to be golden for me.
15 years earlier, I had written down family stories, mostly little anecdotes that would trigger great memories of Heather and I going back to when we first met, and also our life when our 3 kids were little. I now printed out those stories, which I had not read in 15 or more years, and put them in a folder for Heather to bring to the hospital. I knew that reading those stories would be incredibly helpful if I felt uncomfortable post-surgery.
The Journey Begins
Five days before the surgery we traveled up to the Philadelphia area. I still needed two visits to Penn Medicine before the day of the surgery. I first had to have a heart catheterization so they could get a clearer view of the heart than they can see with the echocardiogram. And I had to have pre-surgery tests run.
The night before the surgery I had to bathe in Hibiclens to remove bacteria from my skin. Years before, this kind of simple pre-surgery routine might have raised my anxiety, but now I was ready for the surgery.
I was as ready for this as anything I’d ever done in my life.
The Surgery as a Mission
In the weeks before the surgery, all the pre-surgery preparations that had to be conducted reminded me of the many books I had read about the astronauts of the lunar landing era in the 1960s and early 1970s. It was an era I had lived through as a child.
I was fascinated by the enormous team that had to plan for every detail of the missions to land men on the moon and return them safely to the Earth. And I was captivated by many of the astronauts’ autobiographies, in which they described the long chain of steps in their missions.
It occurred to me one day as I was preparing for the surgery, that I will likely never go to the Moon or even into space and experience that great marvel of human progress. But I would now get to experience another miracle of modern man - open heart surgery.
I began to view the upcoming surgery as a mission.
And my role as the patient was akin to the role of the astronaut.
Just like the brave men getting into the space capsule, I would have an enormous team helping me, including the surgeon, other doctors, nurses, support staff and most of all my wife Heather. She would be like the capcom, the person in mission control who talks to the astronauts in their language and relays information from the rest of the team.
Everyone would be playing a role. My role was to be the calm and cooperative patient.
The Calm and Cooperative Patient
Success would depend on me being that calm and cooperative patient. That was my role on the team.
And I was confident that I had a world class team.
Finally came the day of the surgery. I was ready. For 19 of the past 20 years I had dreaded this day. But now I was as locked in mentally as I have ever been.
There was no fear, none.
Surgery Day
We were instructed to arrive at hospital admissions at 7:50am for surgery prep to start at 8am and surgery at 9am. We were there early.
I was calm and cool.
In minutes, they brought me in and told Heather she would be able to come back after they had prepped me.
About 8:30am I was prepped, and Heather was brought in to the prep room. Now we were waiting any minute for the orderlies to come take me to the OR. But after about another half an hour we were still waiting.
It was around 9am when a nurse came in and told us that Dr. Acker has an emergency case that just came in and my surgery was going to be delayed at least 3 hours.
The Delay
Now this is where the family stories I had Heather pack in a folder for the hospital became golden for me.
I had prepared them to pass the time in recovery. But suddenly I realized we needed them right now. Heather had the folder with her, and we read through all the stories I had collected of our first 25 years together.
At around 12pm, the nurses told us the emergency case is not going well and it’s going to be another couple of hours. This was a little alarming, as Dr. Acker is about 65 years old, and I began to wonder if he would have the energy to perform my surgery right after another long surgery.
I told the nurse to please tell Dr. Acker to take his time after the emergency case, I’m in no rush. I wanted him to know he could get something to eat and take a break. The nurse almost laughed and said he knows how to get himself ready. I also knew that he often performs two open heart surgeries in a single day.
Heather and I went back to sharing the stories for another 2 hours.
I will always look back on those few hours that we shared those stories as one of the best times of our lives together as a couple. We had such a good time. I was so completely immersed in the stories that I often forgot where I was and what was about to take place.
It was magical.
2pm came and went and we were still waiting. But I was as calm as could be.
Finally at 3:30pm, seven-and-half hours after they took me in to get prepped, the orderlies came to get me, and I said goodbye, and I love you to Heather.
I was as calm as could be.
I was so ready for the surgery that nothing could bring me down.
Music Time!
As they wheeled me to the Operating Room (O.R.), they asked me what genre of music I would like to listen to before I drift off to sleep.
I instantly said, “Classic 70s Rock.”
They said, “We can do that!”
As I arrived in the O.R., it was all abuzz with activity. My surgeon wasn’t there yet. But there must have been 6 people all in their 20s to 40s busily preparing for the surgery. None of them old enough to remember Classic 70s Rock the way I do.
When they put on the music, in the first split second I knew what song it was.
It was a true Classic 70s Rock song with one of the greatest opening guitar rifts that I’ve ever heard.
It was a tune I loved.
And it was readily apparent to me that none of the people busy getting ready for the surgery either knew what it was or how inappropriate it was.
And I mean it was completely inappropriate for this moment. So much so that I had to hold myself back from laughing out loud lest they think I’m absolutely nuts since I’m about to have open heart surgery.
The song was Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”
In case you’re not familiar with the song, you can find it on YouTube at the link below. It has 111 million views:
Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
The song is so famous that in 1997, Saturday Night Live performed a skit about the song that included Christopher Walken, Will Ferrell, and Jimmy Fallon:
SNL Skit - Don't Fear the Reaper
After the surgery, I told everyone of the hospital staff I came into contact with this story, and that someone needs to tell the O.R. team not to do that again. I thought it was funny that they played, Don’t Fear the Reaper. But somebody else might be traumatized by it.
I knew the O.R. team didn’t know what the song was about, or they would have never played it.
If you’re not familiar with the song, it’s about a guy who is trying to convince his girlfriend to commit suicide, and he’s telling her how 40,000 people are dying every day and how Romeo and Juliet are together in eternity.
A few weeks after the surgery, after I had told this story several dozen times, to great amounts of laughter, I did more research on why Blue Oyster Cult wrote the song, and my story got even more absurd. It turns out that one of the band members was diagnosed with an irregular heartbeat and was afraid of dying. And that’s what he was writing about.
And this is what they played for me in the O.R.!
Before the song was over I was asleep, or at least I can’t remember anything past that point.
Recovery Room
The next thing I knew, I woke up and I had that feeling like you’ve just had a great dream but it has slipped away and you can’t remember the details.
I instantly noticed that I felt alright.
I had a breathing tube in, but it was far thinner than I had imagined it would be. It didn’t bother me at all.
I was in a bed in the recovery room, and I was facing a TV screen that had lots of information. I could see that it was about 11:30pm.
My memory from the next several hours is a little fuzzy. The main thing I remember is that I felt okay. I didn’t feel like I could get up and walk. But I didn’t feel bad at all. Before the surgery, I had prepared myself in case I felt miserably uncomfortable at this point. But I was okay.
The other distinct memory is that the night felt incredibly long. I tried to sleep. But I struggled to sleep more than 3 minutes at a time. I believe I must have had dozens of 3 minute naps. Without being able to communicate or change the TV channel there was nothing to do but wait for Heather to arrive. And the recovery room was filled with annoying lights and noises.
I kept telling myself everything is going to be great when Heather gets here. That thought of Heather arriving as she planned to at 8am inspired me to get through this period.
A Perfect Repair
At 5:50am, I remember seeing Dr. Acker. I was absolutely amazed. I didn’t know it at the time, but my surgery had not finished until 9:30pm, and here was Dr. Acker already back in the hospital making rounds. What a dedicated surgeon I thought. He only said a few brief words to me, but they were the most comforting words I could have possibly heard, “You have a perfect repair.”
Wow! A perfect repair. What great news.
At about 7am they took the breathing tube out. I was still tethered to what seemed like more things than I could count, but none of them bothered me.
At 8am Heather arrived, right on time, and that was an amazing boost for me because the recovery room was just a dreary, noisy place and I had nothing to keep my mind occupied. Heather inspires me, and now her presence was magical.
Heather told me what Dr. Acker had told her right after the surgery. The surgery repair was perfect, like he had told me. But now I learned he actually had to do it twice!
After he did the repair initially, and took me off the heart lung machine and warmed my body back up from 32 degrees, he checked the functioning of the valve, and it was still regurgitating.
He had to do the repair again! That meant putting me back on the heart lung machine, cooling my body back down to 32 degrees, and performing another procedure. The second time was the charm.
The Benefit of a Sternotomy
And that’s when I realized that it’s a good thing I opted for the sternotomy. If Dr. Acker had not been able to visually see the heart, he might not have known that the repair was not working. For this reason, I would urge anyone who is researching surgical options to talk to their surgeon about this case.
The Cardiac Ward
At 12pm, they moved me to the cardiac ward where it was planned I would stay for 4 - 5 days. Once I was in the room things were a lot better. I could control the TV and I could get access to my phone and my books. I was all set.
I got on the phone and talked to my parents and my kids. Everyone was surprised that I sounded so strong. And I felt as good as I sounded on the phone.
It was quite remarkable.
In the afternoon, I went for my first walk. Getting out of bed was an adventure. I was tethered to what seemed like more lines than I could count. There were the IVs, the catheter, the external pacemaker, and I didn’t know it yet, but 4 thick drainage tubes were coming out of my stomach. And I needed assistance and direction just to get out of bed. I didn’t seem to have the use of my stomach muscles, so turning wasn’t easy. And my body, and particularly my legs were bloated from all the fluid they had pumped into me during surgery.
My First Steps
As soon as I stood up I noticed that the bloating made my legs feel weird. I remember telling people that it feels like I got new legs in this surgery, because they just didn’t feel anything like my legs. This was of course due to the bloating. And that feeling went away in about 3 days.
The first walk was very short. I had to go slow. And I had to hold on to the nurse, because with my “new legs” I was very unsure of my steps. But I felt strong, and I could have walked more. However, I was playing my role, being a good patient and making sure I didn’t over do it.
No Pain
The first evening in the hospital room, I realized I essentially had not slept in 2 days, and I figured it was essential for healing that I get a good night’s sleep. So when they offered me oxycontin, I thought, “I don’t feel at all like I need it, but it might be important to take it to help assure I sleep better.” And that’s the only time I took it.
In fact, the pain in my chest was so minimal that I remember telling people, if I didn’t know what had happened, I would say, “I think I may have scratched my chest.”
Middle of the Night Madness
I got to sleep alright at about 11pm. What I didn’t realize was that about 3:30am is the staff’s favorite time to come wake you up and do the early morning battery of tests and bloodwork. Once they did all that had to be done there was no getting back to sleep. I then found out this would be a daily middle of the night ritual.
So a big lesson is get to sleep early while you’re in the hospital!
I later found out there was a good reason for the 3:30am work up madness. When the doctors come in early in the morning for their rounds, they need to see fresh data on the patients. That made sense.
Daily Milestones
The days in the hospital were marked by big milestones as each of the tethered items came out one at a time.
The most difficult was the catheter. I drew on my track & field experience to help me with that one. I used the shot putter’s yell to lessen the pain. It really works! You just have to tell the nurses ahead of time what you’re going to do.
Next was the first of the drainage tubes. These were thick tubes that were coming straight out of my stomach. They took one out on day 2, and they tried to warn me it would hurt. As they were getting ready to pull it out, they said to bear down. It hurt like heck. But I only felt it for literally just 1 second. By the time I could think about it, it was out and there was zero lingering pain. So that wasn’t really bad.
On day 3, they took out the other 3 drainage tubes all at once. Similarly, it hurt a lot, but for just 1 second. It was not something to sweat out. But it was unexpected.
No Rhythm
Now I ran into a problem. On day 3, they also tried to take off the external pacemaker. They turned off the pacemaker. As soon as they did, my energy level plummeted instantly. My blood pressure had suddenly dropped, and they had to turn the pacemaker back on.
They told me that my heart had not clicked back into the proper rhythm and that until it did, I would continue to require the pacemaker. They tried it a couple of more times that day and evening. And they told me that since the heart rhythm wasn’t coming back they were scheduling an appointment the next day for the electrical cardiologist to discuss putting a permanent pacemaker in me. That didn’t bother me. I knew lots of people who had pacemakers under the skin on their chest. Of course, I would prefer not to have one, but it wasn’t an issue.
I simply wasn’t letting anything bother me during recovery.
At 3:30am on day 4, during the nightly testing time, the nurses tried one more time to turn off the external pacemaker, and they got the same result. My heart rhythm just wasn’t kicking in.
Then at 7am, a physician from Dr. Acker’s team came in for the morning rounds to see Dr. Acker’s patients. While 3 other nurses were in the room, she told them that she wanted to try turning off the pacemaker. They explained to her that they had just tried earlier this morning. And she insisted she wanted to see it herself.
About 3 seconds later, I mean literally 3 seconds, the nurses let out a cheer and one of them said to the doctor, “you’ve got the magic touch!”
Nobody however filled me in on what was going on, although I had an idea.
I asked what happened, and they said the heart rhythm had kicked in, and I would not need the pacemaker.
Now that was great news, but I was incredulous. At this point, they had about 30 seconds of data, and they were making a definitive decision that I don’t need a pacemaker.
But they explained that as soon as they see the heart rhythm is back, it is back for good.
They canceled the appointment with the electrical cardiologist.
Anemia
But just a moment later, I got news that tempered the excitement from the heart rhythm’s return. The bloodwork from 3:30am showed that my hemaglobin was 7.0. I had never heard of anyone’s hemaglobin dipping that low. And it was all the more hard to comprehend because I felt pretty good by now. I had gone for a long walk on day 3 around the cardiac ward. And I felt like I could go for a long walk at this moment.
Despite my slight alarm over the news, the doctor told me that I didn’t need a blood infusion. The super low hemaglobin was a normal part of recovery and I would simply need to take iron pills for at least 3 months. Again, I was fine with that.
Note, as of this writing, I’m 8 months post-surgery and while my hemaglobin is back to borderline normal, I still have some post surgery blood cell oddities that require me to stay on the iron a little longer and are being monitored. Yet, I feel perfectly normal.
The Last Connection
Now, I was down to just the IV in terms of the items tethered to me. And I was cleared to leave the hospital on day 5.
With all the activity of vital sign checks, testing, meals, removal of tethered items, and well wisher phone calls from friends and family, as well as a visit from some cousins, and of course Heather being by my side from morning till evening each day, I never had all the down time I thought I would to listen to my songs and all the Brooklyn Dodgers 1955 World Series games.
But I’m glad I had all those things prepared for the hospital stay, and I strongly suggest you bring things to the hospital that you know will keep your mind pleasantly occupied in case you need it. And remember, I really needed those family stories when I was in the prep room and the surgery was delayed 7 hours.
Discharge
I felt pretty good after getting discharged from the hospital. It was a nice feeling to no longer be tethered to anything. I felt like I had my full strength back in just 2 weeks, but then, I had several episodes where I did too much and my blood pressure dropped and I developed low grade fevers.
One of them was on day 14, when I delivered my first post-surgery lecture live via ZOOM. I was very excited to do this, and I felt like my energy level during the 75 minute lecture was at pre-surgery levels. But while I felt outstanding during the lecture, minutes afterwards, I could feel the onset of the blood pressure drop.
The telephone nurses told me this was nothing to be concerned about and was normal during this time if I over did it.
Focus on Recovery
What I learned from this and a couple of other similar episodes around this time, is that you need to respect the recovery period. And this is another big lesson. You have to accept no matter how good you feel, your body has been through trauma, and your heart has been directly impacted, and you have to give it time to heal.
This doesn’t mean you just rest. In fact, it is the opposite. One of the most important things you must do is your daily walking and any other activities your surgeon’s team tells you to do. I remember my cardiologist telling me, “walking is your best friend after the surgery.”
But you have to make sure you’re finding the right balance between the necessary physical therapy and rest.
Because I felt almost too good during the early recovery period, I made notes for myself and reminded myself to “focus on recovery.”
By day 20, I had no more “episodes.” But I also was being more careful. I was gradually increasing my walks and exercises within the guidelines provided to me. But I was also making sure I got ample rest. I was taking a nap each day, which I never used to do.
My First Post Surgery Show as The Sports Time Traveler
On Day 40, I had my first show planned at a large retirement community. This was a major milestone. I wasn’t 100% certain I was ready for it, so I arranged to sit during the presentation.
I shared with the audience a one minute story at the beginning. I told them how each of them have been my inspiration for the past 6 weeks because after my open heart surgery I visualized this moment when I would be looking out into the audience and seeing the faces of the people, and feeling the excitement of being back to deliver a speech on a topic that I love to discuss. And I explained that since I had to be careful of expending too much energy I would sit for the speech.
The speech went fabulously well. I received an ovation at the end. And I had no physical issues. It was yet another major milestone in the recovery.
At 3 months into recovery I started to feel close to perfect. I began light jogging for the first time. And I started to have days where I actually forgot I had open heart surgery.
The 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers Book
At 5 months into recovery, I hit another major milestone. I put the finishing touches on my book, THE 1955 BROOKLYN DODGERS - MY DAD’s TEAM.
I was very proud of the fact that nearly all the work on this book was done while I was recovering from the surgery. Who knew that you could get quality work done during recovery from open heart surgery.
The book launched on May 1st on Amazon and Etsy at these links:
Full Recovery
As of this writing, I’m now 8 months out and I continue to feel better and better. I’m still not working out at 100% of my pre-surgery intensity by design. I’m still focusing on recovery. But I am back to working out 2 - 3 hours per day, and I feel great. I can visualize 100% recovery and I’m pretty close to being there right now.
The Beneficiary of a Miracle of Modern Medicine
This has been a truly incredible experience. I now have a perfectly refurbished heart. I’m one of the relatively few to personally benefit from one of the truly great miracles of modern medicine – open heart surgery.
MVP repair is truly amazing. My cardiologist told me that when I’m fully 100% recovered, I will feel better than I ever have before. I’m already at the point where I notice I feel better than before the surgery. Most people will never have this “opportunity” to get a heart tune up, and have their heart perform better than ever before.
It’s a real gift.
Conclusion
I feel what I did to prepare for the surgery worked. I think the reason I tolerated the surgery so well, felt so little pain, and recovered so quickly had as much or more to do with my mental preparation than my physical conditioning.
The prospect of open-heart surgery sounds horrific to laypeople, and I myself dreaded the upcoming surgery for 19 of the 20 years I was in the watchful waiting period. But when it came time to actually get ready I leveraged all the tips I had ever learned about preparing for a major running competition. And those things worked.
The most important part was the advice I received from Mark Spitz. I have tried to contact Mark Spitz to thank him. But I haven’t been able to reach him. If anyone does know how to reach Mark Spitz, I would just like to tell him how grateful I am for his advice.
I want to close on one aspect of the advice I prepared for myself, in which I told myself I will enjoy the experience. That might sound crazy, but as I look back on it now, I really did enjoy the experience. I had such great care during my hospital stay. And I never had any significant pain.
And by overcoming the fear I had for 19 years, I feel proud of myself. I feel this was a greater achievement than any of my best performances on the track in 40 years of competition.
Finally, my relationship with my wife Heather, already rock solid before the surgery, is at an even higher level now. Over the past 3 years, as we each faced a medical crisis, we stepped up, to not only be there 100% for each other, but to also inspire each other to get through it.
Contact Me
If you or a loved one are facing MVP surgery, please feel free to contact me.
I wish to pay forward the pre-surgery advice I received. And I would like to help people with their mental preparation for the surgery.
You can reach me at Len@Fermaninnovation.com
Thank you for reading my story.
I would love to hear your feedback. I will try to reply to everyone who leaves a comment.
Much thanks for sharing all the background to what I knew had been a very successful outcome.
Hopefully you can be the Mark Spitz to others. One doesn’t need an open heart procedure to value the advise you received from Spitz .