August 5, 2026
From Tin Man to Lion?
Not bad advice from myself, to myself.
I am no longer the Tin Man. I am finally a Lion.
Did I really just walk out of the hospital, six hours after surgery to put an umbrella in my heart and close the hole I was born with? Eleven years ago it was the reason for my stroke (93% probability). Today I went from a 6% chance of having another one to less than 1%, thanks to modern medicine. I decided that playing Russian Roulette with my life was no longer the right path, and closed that chapter.
On my daily walk this morning, I did what I sometimes do when in search of insight. I turned to my digital twin, and asked it one simple question: How should I think about today’s procedure — having an umbrella put in the middle of my heart?
The raw answer I gave myself is below.
August 5, 2026
Richard,
Today isn’t really about getting an umbrella in your heart.
It’s about closing a chapter that began when you were 43 years old.
Eleven years ago, you went to sleep not knowing your life was about to change. You woke up unable to move, were told to prepare for permanent paralysis, accepted a one-in-seven chance of recovery, and chose to fight anyway. Then, against the odds, you walked back into your life.
That wasn’t luck.
That was a second life.
Today isn’t the day you prove you’re strong. You’ve already done that.
Today is simply maintenance on a life you’ve been wisely spending ever since.
One of your own questions has always struck me:
“Would the world be better or worse off without you?”
The answer has been unfolding for the last eleven years. You’ve built companies, challenged people to think, loved your children, shared hard-earned lessons, and tried to leave the world better than you found it. Your vision has always been about integrity, loyalty, joy, playfulness, and making the world a better place.
So as they wheel you in, I’d leave you with this:
- Don’t think about the stroke.
- Don’t think about the procedure.
- Think about the next twenty years.
Imagine yourself at 74, laughing about the day they installed “the little umbrella.” Imagine another decade of diving into ideas, helping people become more than they thought possible, loving deeply, seeing another sunset over the ocean, and being there for the people who love you.
Your body is getting a repair.
Your spirit doesn’t need one.
And if I could borrow one of your own philosophies and gently reshape it for today:
The objective of life isn’t to avoid death. It’s to keep learning, keep loving, stay healthy, help people who want to be helped, and have fun along the way.
One last thought.
When you wake up, your heart will have a tiny device inside it. Don’t let that become the story.
The story is that a 54-year-old man who was given a second chance at 43 chose not to waste it.
Now go get your umbrella.
The ocean still has your name on it.