I apologize that this has taken so long. I've been trying to write an email or record a video to give people a post-surgery update, to let them know what happened, and why I kind of disappeared after the surgery. But that just never worked because I didn't have people in front of me. I couldn't see their eyes and know whether I wasn't just blathering to nothingness…until I talked to my bishop about this and received his permission to record my testimony during Fast and Testimony Meeting on December 7th, 2025. Then, using AI to quickly transcribe it, I finally had a message that I could work with and send…though it still frustratingly took me another solid month to flesh the message out after that - ironing it together and making it a little more coherent and not so disjointed with so of its of ums and uhs. I also took the liberty of expanding the section about the miracles, as I was feeling a little bit rushed by that point in time. The result is below.

Heart Surgery Reflections - 13 Months Later
(The Testimony of Gregory Gene Conrad)

This past Wednesday was December 3rd, and that marked the one-year anniversary of my heart surgery. Two days before that day was a Fast Sunday—December 1st. And pretty much all of you, I'm pretty sure, fasted and prayed for me. 'Cause that's what you do. That's the kind of people you are. But it was many, many other people beyond that. And I had really struggled to come to terms with that day—Fast Sunday.

I had been very depressed for a very long time, and if I hadn't made it through the surgery, I would be totally okay with that—more than okay. And so part of me wanted to ask everyone, "No, don't, don't fast, don't do anything," and then I'm just like, "Well, okay. What I'll do is I'll just say, 'Fast and pray that THE WORST OUTCOME POSSIBLE doesn't happen.'"

And then I kept thinking and came across President Nelson's—something he said in one of his talks—and he said to expect and seek miracles. And I just wasn't sure about that, but I kept thinking about it, and it felt more and more right that I should ask for a miracle and ask people to pray for a miracle. And then it was, "Well, what exactly do I want to say the miracle that I want is?" And what we put out—because Elizabeth Madson-Nichols was the one who really put this stuff out—was, "I was fasting and praying for an end to my long-term, treatment-resistant depression." And that was a nice way of saying, "I just really, at the minimum, could I just wake up and not desperately yearn to be dead like I have for 20-something years?" But the other thing sounded better, but that's what I was ACTUALLY thinking. 

And then, you know, I was talking to people going up to it, and they're like, "You know what? I’m not just gonna pray for an end to your depression. You deserve an end to your OCD." And I'm like, "Yeah, that's a nice thought. But that's not gonna happen. And I already feel like I'm shooting way high. " But after several people kept saying that, part of me was like, "Well, President Nelson said to seek and expect miracles. Maybe I shouldn't limit that miracle."(Anyway, that's the setup.)

So, Wednesday, December 4th, I woke up after my surgery, and I was still here. Part of me had thought, had wished for a near-death experience, but just not doing the near-death part. 'Cause I heard several stories about near-death experiences, and, you know, you die, you're with Christ, and you see your life, and you feel how your life (your choices, your interactions) impacted others.

(...Now, you all know I HATE chocolate. What you don't know so much is that I exponentially hated myself more than chocolate…)

And so I thought that the only way possible for me to not have that extreme self-hatred when I woke up was to have this experience where I could see my life and know and FEEL how I made a difference, IF I made a difference. Had I truly blessed ANYONE’S life? Or was I really the curse to everyone that I believed myself to be? But I didn't have that.

I just woke up, and I had lost ALL of my hearing. For about half an hour, I just repeatedly asked my parents, "Where am I?" 'cause part of me was still wondering where I was, and I just kept asking for half an hour because I didn't get an answer. And finally, the heart surgeon showed up. And I had an answer to my question. It wasn't the answer I wanted, but for right now, I was informed on what was going on. And so Mom and Dad said that when he showed up, I went like this [outstretched arms, beaming smile]—I was so happy because I knew where I was.

But again, I had lost hearing, and slowly that regained itself, but it was still really, really not hearing well. Like, I was on the phone with my nephews, the phone is here [right next to my ear], and I can't hear what they're saying. And when Dawnee and Jesse showed up, I wasn't able to hear anything they said. And one of my vocal cords also had stopped working, and so I wasn't able to speak really, even. And then I had tinnitus. I was hearing sounds that weren't there. And, um, so just all of these elements, it just seemed like this is the worst thing ever.

And so I really struggled, and I went radio silent for a long time because I thought, "Well, people are gonna want an answer. They prayed and they fasted, and they'll want to know, did the miracle happen?" And to me, the answer was an avalanche-causing shout of "NO!" And I thought of it as the anti-miracles. (That’s the second setup.)

Now there WERE miracles. But it’s important to understand that the answer to the question was "no" before it was "yes," and how much of a struggle it was. And it's taken me a year to get to this place where I could see the miracles, and not just the anti-miracles. 

And so, some miracles:

Just a few years before that, Bishop Miller suffered a life-altering tragedy, an illness of his own. He had a stroke. And he often spoke with gratitude for that stroke. Because it opened up his very busy schedule and forced him to turn away from a profession that he was very skilled and proficient in, one that he loved. And that, in turn, allowed him to have the time to be the second bishop of our [Mid-Singles] Ward, which he loved (and still does). And that, of course, meant that he was my bishop at the time of my heart surgery.

Well, when I was in the hospital, when the heart surgeon showed up every day to give me (and my parents) the update and see how I was doing, Bishop Miller was right at his side. Why? Because before his stroke, Doctor Miller had consulted with and worked alongside my heart surgeon in the pediatric ICU of that same hospital for many, many years. 

I got the best of both worlds. I had a bishop who was intimately aware of the ins and outs of my care who was still consulting (unofficially) with my heart surgeon on a near-daily basis about my post-operative care. And because he was no longer employed there, he didn't have to make the rounds between dozens of patients and he was able to be upstairs in the ADULT ICU where he normally wouldn't have been working. Plus, as my bishop, he had a deep, working knowledge of my OCD and could handle my litany of questions about what was going on, which persisted far beyond the narrower time constraints of my on-call heart surgeon. More importantly, he was already on the scene to help give me the spiritual support I needed through my deep “anti-miracle” spiritual crisis.

And the timing of this Bishop Miracle wound up being even greater just a couple months later when he and his wife unexpectedly moved to be close to family in Utah. So God had, in a very real way, strategically placed Bishop Miller as my bishop at the precise time that I needed heart surgery to replace a replacement aortic valve that had finally started deteriorating an inexplicable decade and a half past its expected expiration date.

(Quick related note: I ended up not being the only member of our ward who benefited from the bishop's presence and focus at the hospital. A day or so after my intake, another member of our ward had a heart attack and ended up in the ICU room directly next to mine.)

Rewinding slightly to touch on the surgery itself, obviously it was a success. Even though it lasted for 8½ hours, the surgical team was able to maintain a continuous focus on what they were doing. There weren’t any big mistakes. After touching the rock hard scar tissue (from my list surgery) impeding access to the aortic valve, it crumbled into a thousand pieces or shards that they carefully had to remove, almost one by one, before sewing my heart back up and reestablishing circulation, as any one of those could have caused a clot or blockage and resulted in a heart attack. There were also no problems switching to and from the heart-lung machine (pioneered by the late President Nelson). The new titanium valve worked as hoped. And all of this was done in an area mostly measured in millimeters!

Another miracle: I experienced almost zero pain connected to the surgery itself. True, I was on nerve blockers in the hospital, but when I left, I wasn’t given any pain medication (beyond the max allowable dose of Acetaminophen that I was already taking for chronic back and neck pain), and was fine. Not the typical experience of someone that's had OPEN-heart surgery!

Additionally, due to the ongoing miracle of God providing me with excellent healthcare, I never incurred any costs from the surgery or for any related or subsequent doctor visits, procedures, or resources (such as food and X-rays). Aside from a very small copay for blood thinner, I never received a bill. (Again, not necessarily typical for such large operations and hospital stays.)

Also, there was familial healing that took place. Families are wonderful and complicated, and that complicated side had overwhelmed a certain relationship, but then that person was in the hospital with me almost every day. And, when you added other family members in, there was basically never a time when at least one family member was not there (outside of mandatory non-visiting hours) for the 9 days I was there.

And, all of you, and many others, surrounded me with prayer and in spirit. I knew that I was loved by the members of this ward (even though I couldn’t communicate with you, even though I was in a heightened state of paranoia from not receiving my Lorazepam) because Dawnee and Jesse helped to lead the way to make Christmas happen for me in the hospital. I wanted to wake up to Christmas, and you guys did that. And you not only lit up my time in the hospital, (my world at that point - in the ICU). You lit up the whole ICU because they all saw the Christmas lights, the bright lights, too. So good job– mission accomplished on the Light the World initiative last year.

Then three months later, I was allowed to drive, and about two weeks after that, I got in a car wreck. I sailed into a large sign and tree and fence, and I wasn't hurt. I didn't have a scratch or scrape.  Nothing broken from untoward physical pressure being put on my newly-sewed-up sternum from my seatbelt, steering column, or potential air bag. Plus, no bruising or cuts, which could have been a serious issue from just being put on blood thinner. I'm not even sure if I had whiplash. There wasn't any physical harm that came to my body. And that was right after heart surgery! And the biggest, most meaningful miracle to me was that my dog was okay, 'cause he was stickin' his head out the window the last I knew. And then when I looked back, he was just lying down safely on the back seat, shocked for a few seconds, but then acting completely normal and showing no sign of physical harm to his body when checked.

As for the anti-miracles, my voice has fully recovered - both of my vocal chords are in complete working order. The tinnitus hasn't gone away, but I've learned to really just ignore it and, as a result, it doesn't bother me and is as if it has gone away. As for my hearing, it still seems diminished and I feel like I have to ask people to repeat themselves much more, but I can hear fine(-ish) most of the time, and audiologists have tested it and say that there are a couple of peripheral frequencies that I'm slightly deficient in but other than those, my hearing is normal.

So many, many miracles!

And while I would not say that my long-term, treatment-resistant depression went away, I can say that I no longer desperately yearn to be dead. And, as stated, that was my ACTUAL hoped-for goal. And, while I still struggle to really carry any love for myself, I feel comfortable-ish saying that, aside from a few weeks here and there over the past 13 months, I don't HATE myself. That probably doesn't sound all that great, but it is quite the respite when compared to the decades preceding my surgery. So, in the end, I think the answer to the question “did the miracle happen" is "yes”.

And so this is a testimony and not just a “travelogue”, I want to bear you my witness that through these experiences, I gained a greater appreciation and knowledge that God loves us, that the Savior is there for us, and that what we do really matters. Even when it seems like it's just a great big anti-miracle, there is a bigger miracle enveloping that darkness.

And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.