So what’s the typical day look like? Let’s talk about it. Spoiler there’s no such thing

Hey Warriors,

Since starting little lvadventures, people have asked me, “What’s a normal day look like for you?” And honestly? That question used to rattle me a bit. Because when your heart runs on batteries and your body depends on wires and chargers, “normal” is kind of a myth.

I’ve learned to stop chasing typical. My days aren’t predictable, they’re intentional.

Most mornings, the house is already moving. The kids are up, breakfast is being requested like it’s a five-star diner, and my LVAD is humming away like the world’s most committed roommate. I do my daily scan, controller? Check. Batteries? Check. Body? A little sore, a little tired, but still here. So I stretch, breathe, and start again (usually with coffee that’s stronger than my patience at 7 a.m.).

Some days, I make it to the gym. Other days, I sit outside, close my eyes, and let the wind remind me I’m still part of the world. And both of those days are equally valuable. One just comes with a little more sweat and a lot more laundry.

We make room for joy where we can. That might look like a walk in the park, a paint session with the kids, or blasting music while we clean. Yes, I’ve been caught dancing with a mop. No, I won’t apologize. It’s not about the big flashy stuff, it’s about those small, beautiful sparks that remind me life is still worth leaning into.

Now let’s be clear, it’s not always soft and pretty. There are dressing changes. Random pain. Equipment that gets heavy, physically and mentally. There are days where I run out of steam before I even get going. Some days I feel like an iPhone stuck at 10% battery — and guess what? I left the charger in the other room. But even those moments have taught me something. They’ve helped me slow down and pay attention to what actually matters.

So if you’re wondering what to expect from little lvadventures, here’s what I’m offering: honest snapshots of life with an LVAD, the real, not just the polished. Creative moments that help me stay grounded. Family chaos, quiet joys, and everything in between. Tools and tips I’ve learned the hard way (because apparently the easy way is always on backorder). Reflections that come straight from the heart (and sometimes from a hospital bed… with really bad chicken pot pie).

This journey has made one thing clear: little doesn’t mean less. The smallest moments, the ones most people overlook, are the ones that carry me through. Think of them like bonus levels in a video game, unexpected, sometimes silly, but absolutely worth it.

So if you’re here, stick around. There’s more to come. And it’s all unfolding, one little lvadventure at a time.

With Heart,

💙 Phoenix

"Little doesn’t mean less. The smallest moments, the ones most people overlook, are the ones that carry me through."