A Heart That Keeps Beating Forward

By Paul Frankenberg, Co-Founder of DFD

I was born in 1973 in Columbus, Ohio. At six months old, a pediatrician noticed something wasn’t right with my heart. After testing, my parents were told my condition couldn’t be repaired and to simply enjoy the time they had left with me.

But they chose a second opinion, which truly was a gift from God.

That decision led us to Hartford Hospital, where I was diagnosed with a ventricular septal defect (VSD), a hole in my heart that affected how blood flowed through it.

My open-heart surgery was on my dad’s birthday in September 1975, when I was just two and a half years old. Then, on Christmas in 1977, the hospital informed my parents that an anonymous donor had paid the remaining balance in full. This was incredibly significant, as my parents were both working in restaurants, raising two kids with a third on the way. To this day, we still do not know who paid the bill.

My family and I will forever be grateful to this unknown person for their incredible act of kindness.

Also, before my surgery in 1975, my mom gave me a teddy bear, which I creatively named “Bear.” She put surgical tape on his chest to match mine, creating a lasting bond.

Thanks to that surgery, I grew up living a full, active life. Sports, school, friends—everything felt normal, aside from the scar on my chest. Over the years, Bear eventually ended up in the back of a closet.

Then, when my grandfather needed heart surgery, my mom suggested I give him Bear. I did, and without realizing how meaningful that small act would truly become.

When My Story Came Back Around

In my late twenties, I began experiencing episodes of lightheadedness. At first, they were manageable (I had a system to get them to stop). But on Valentine’s Day in 2005, I passed out at home. My wife, Beth, watched me stop breathing and called 911.

My heart restarted on its own before help arrived.

Days later, it happened again, this time in my cardiologist’s office. When I woke up, he told me I had gone 52 seconds without a heartbeat and that this was extremely serious.

I received a pacemaker in the next two weeks.

And once again, I was given the gift of moving forward.

Before the procedure, Beth suggested I bring Bear with me. That simple idea became something much bigger than we expected.

The Power of Being Seen

In the years that followed, we became deeply involved in the heart community, especially with pediatric patients and families. From volunteering on cardiac floors at the Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital to joining the Board of the American Heart Association, we knew this was a calling for Beth and me. So we thought of something that helped me feel seen and comforted in the scariest times of my life: Bear.

We started sending Bear to people heading into heart procedures, along with a handwritten note.

What we saw was powerful.

Bear has now been with patients just days old to those in their 70s, across dozens of procedures. Each time, he comes back with a story—a cape, a ribbon, a note.

But the most meaningful part isn’t what Bear brings back.

It’s what he leaves behind.

Comfort. Courage. A reminder: you are not alone.

Don’t Forget the Dudes

In August 2019, Beth and I were introduced to the founders of Faithfully Restored Women. Through them, we heard the story of Jamie and her husband losing their young son, William, and how, through organ donation, his heart gave life to a young girl named Ava (read William’s story here).

Their story was different from mine, but also deeply connected.

We both knew what it meant for a heart to carry more than just life; we knew it could carry hope, faith, and a story that reaches far beyond one person.

As Beth and I got involved, we saw the impact of supporting women and families, and I also saw something else clearly:

Men were carrying a lot, too.

Health struggles. Grief. Pressure. Fear.

Often quietly. Often alone.

I found myself saying it over and over again:

“Don’t forget the dudes.”

What started as a phrase became a calling.

Just as we had done with Bear, I began connecting with Dudes walking through hard seasons of life (no matter what those may be), writing notes, praying for them, and sending small reminders that someone saw them.

And that’s where Don’t Forget the Dudes was born.

Why It Matters

My story is about a heart condition, but it’s also about something bigger.

It’s about what happens when people show up for each other.

Whether it’s a medical diagnosis, grief, or just the weight of everyday life, so many men are struggling in silence.

And sometimes, what makes the difference isn’t fixing the problem—it’s simply reminding someone they don’t have to face it alone.

That’s what Bear represents. That’s what a simple note represents. That’s what Don’t Forget the Dudes represents.