Our Origin Story: Part 3

At first, I thought Chris meant one more pediatrician, to make a total of four. But they weren’t sure they would be able to recruit enough patients, despite being just over the hedge and highly visible from their last practice.

Chris caught my eye. It was, and still is, the most iconic, telepathic, in-sync moment we’ve ever had. That is when we knew.

The “one more doctor” wasn’t meant to be another pediatrician.

It was me.

Chris and I took deep breaths. We were both trying to stay cool (like those early days when I would pass dozens of empty lecture hall seats for one right next to him so his sprawling height made our knees touch accidentally/on-purpose).

When the moment passed, and reality loomed like a dark cloud, we began to hash it out – what exam rooms could be mine, theoretically. What staff I would need, theoretically.

But the more we supposed this and proposed that, the more serious questions I had. Would any of my patients drive nearly an hour to see me? Who would come work for me – a solo doctor, with zero dollars and zero patients? How would I pay them? How would we pay our bills at home?

A few days later, all of the doubt crashed in on me. I sat in a pew at Hopewell United Methodist, weeping. I was guilty of finding church only in my times of need. I stepped out and ran directly into a friendly faced woman who looked vaguely familiar.

“Are you.. okay?” she asked.

“Sure! Sure!” I said.

Her smile was so genuine, and when she reached to hug me, it felt like the most confident-it-really-is-going to-be-okay statement ever.

Blotting tears and mascara off my face, I asked, “Do I know you?”

She laughed. “Yes,” she said. “We met a few times at the old practice. I’m Judy, one of Chris’s nurses. Where he goes, I go.”

That was the day Judy Platt agreed, after much cajoling from Chris, to step into the adult medicine world to help me out. It was supposed to be six months. Twenty years later, she is the stunning force behind the success of this practice.

My mom had just been laid off by Merrill Lynch, where she had spent 30 years as a financial analyst.

“Do you think you could learn medical billing?”

“Sure, habibi,” she said. “But only for six months.” Well you can guess how that ended up.

The early people on our team were friends who became family. Most of them worked for months without earning a single penny. They were in it to see our practices succeed.

We all made tremendous financial sacrifices. Chris and I put our loans into forbearance. We cut out all unnecessary expenses, from cable TV to dining out to vacations. We stopped contributing to our retirement plan and prayed that we could provide healthcare for our kids and each other. Our new team: doctors, my mom, Judy, Doreen, and Norma (Healthy Steps nurses) did it all ourselves: we cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed, and took out the trash. No job was beneath any one of us.

I put flyers in mailboxes, joined every professional networking group, and applied for privileges to care for patients at all three local hospitals.

December 13 was our very first day open. I expected there to be a line out the door. Chris’s practice, now called Healthy Steps, was quite busy. Their months of patient recruitment had paid off.

Meanwhile, I saw 5 patients all day and spent the rest of the time rearranging flowers with Judy and periodically picking up the phone to see if there was a dial tone.

Those early months were brutal. My mom, my in-laws, Jessy, and our office staff all pitched in to help with the kids. They were ALL so little then.

Since I did not have patients in the office, I went to assisted living facilities, elder care facilities, and on hospital rounds. I sold myself hard. The days were so long.

Then, this thing happened.

I saw a new patient, and after her appointment, there was a two-hour gap until my next patient. I spent an hour and a half with her, called her later to check on how she was doing, and then again to review her lab results.

The next week, I had three new patients referred by that patient. I sat. I listened. I explained. I supported. In short, I practiced the kind of medicine I had always dreamt of. I was still not sleeping, not exercising, and not eating well. But I was so content. I had never felt physically or emotionally healthier.

Having Chris down the hall from me was incredible. Every so often, I would hear his laugh ring out, and a feeling of peace would wash over me.

I was grateful for every patient who walked in the door, every employee who continued to forgo paychecks, and especially for Chris. I would not be anywhere without his courage to leave that awful practice. He was (and is) my inspiration in every way.

A few weeks after we opened, we had our first office holiday party. Everyone brought a dish and we gathered in the breakroom and ate and laughed. There were no bonuses distributed, but we scrounged up enough to buy everyone a small, token keychain.

At some point in February, my mom came running to me with an envelope flapping in her hands. She was bursting at the seams, trying to tell me that we had finally gotten our first insurance payment. The check was for just over $7,000. It didn’t cover my office rent, nor payroll. I certainly wasn’t going to get paid based on that check. But, that is when I knew.

We really were going to be just fine.

Today is 20 years to the day. The office will be bustling with nearly 50 of our 80+ staff, and over 300 patients will be seen for appointments in person and online. My heart is so full. Thank you to our patients – you are our life's work. What a privilege to have come this far and to care for you. Cheers to 20 years!!

Love, Christine