There are moments in your life when something you believed in becomes something you depend on.

For me, that moment was my husband Greg’s heart surgery.

What we learned very quickly is that heart disease doesn’t care how healthy you are… or how strong you feel. Greg was 50. Active. Healthy. The last person you expect to be facing open heart surgery.

And yet, there we were.

But here’s where the story changes.

Because what Greg needed wasn’t just any surgery.
He needed something rare. Complex. Not widely done.

He underwent what’s called the Ross procedure - a surgery where a failing aortic valve is replaced with the patient’s own pulmonary valve, creating a living, functioning valve that can restore both life expectancy and quality of life.

It’s the kind of procedure that requires extraordinary skill. The kind of procedure that only exists because of decades of research, innovation, and investment in advancing heart care.

And it’s traditionally done in children.

But Greg wasn’t a child.

He was a healthy 50-year-old man, and his surgeon made a decision that changed our lives.

His surgeon was Dr. David H. Adams at Mount Sinai Health System—one of the leading heart surgeons in the world. The same surgeon trusted to perform complex, life-saving procedures on people like Bono.

And he chose to do something bold.

He chose to take a procedure most often used for children—and apply it to Greg.

That decision wasn’t luck.
It was the result of years of research. Clinical trials. Data. Breakthroughs.

The kind of work driven forward by organizations like the American Heart Association.

Because of that work, surgeons don’t just follow the standard anymore—they can push it.
They can tailor care.
They can take risks that are grounded in evidence.
They can give patients not just survival, but a life that still feels like their own.

That’s what Greg got.

Not just a surgery.
Not just more time.

A second chance at a full life.

And when you sit on the other side of that—when you realize that your story could have gone very differently, you understand something at a completely different level:

This work is not abstract.
It is not theoretical.

It is personal.

It’s the reason someone gets to come home.
It’s the reason a family stays whole.
It’s the reason we get more time.

So this year, when I walk for the American Heart Association…

I’m not just walking because I believe in the mission.

I’m walking because I’ve lived the impact.

I’m walking for Greg.
For the surgeon who had the skill and the courage to do something extraordinary.
For the research that made that decision possible.

And for every family who is still waiting for their moment... 
when hope turns into reality.

If you’re able, please consider supporting this mission with a donation.