Ripeness is all.

     "Ripeness is all."  It's a line from Shakespeare's King Lear.  A father, who has suffered and persevered, is about to give up on life and die in hiding.  His son urges him not to give up, and to endure life through all the obstacles, setbacks, and disabling events that all of us must face.  

     Man must endure.  It is part of the human condition.  Hence, "Ripeness is all."  Don't give up before you're done.  Keep on fighting.  It is not your time.

     The line capsulizes for me what having an LVAD means.  I'm not done yet just because I'm battery operated. There is more to come.  Embrace the whole catastrophe as Zorba the Greek said in a memorable line. 

     This week Dolly's and my granddaughter, Aria, (she's on my lap in the photo accompanying this narrative) came to visit us in North Dakota.  It is her longest road trip yet.  A darling at 18 months going on 30:  determined, inquisitive, skeptical, accepting and much more.  She walks, she talks, she smiles, she cries. 

     Without the mechanical circulatory support device called an LVAD, I would likely have missed meeting her by about nine months.  With an LVAD, I can be Gramps.

     I remember my granddads with fondness.  I'd like to be around to watch her grow up.  This heart pump has given me that chance.  I am thankful more than I can say.  Life is good at 9200 rpm's.

     "Ripeness is all," for me means facing what comes and doing the best I can.  Last night about 1:30, my neighborhood in Fargo had a brief power outage. Of course, I did not know it was a power outage until morning when I saw the clock on the microwave in the kitchen was flashing, begging to be set. 

     As one who depends on a consistent flow of electricity through being plugged into a machine or by battery operation, power outages are serious.  I came awake to multiple alarms audible on my various systems. I flipped on the light, coming out of the fog of sleep.  I looked at all my warning lights.  No power to the pump.  Not good. I reached for a pair of charged batteries and was about to switch to battery power, when the audible alarms silenced and normalcy returned.

     Further sleep eluded me as I dozed with an eye and ear open for  another alarm.  No further alarms occurred.  No life lesson here only a hint at the philosophy side of things: yesterday is the only easy day.