10/29/2025
At The Doctor’s House, the doctor is always at home.
A recent patient reminded me why I practice medicine the way I do — why I treat people, not just pathology.
She came in struggling with memory changes, but that wasn’t the whole story.
Her husband had recently moved to a care facility due to his own health decline.
She’s been managing everything alone — home maintenance, difficult decisions, her own health challenges — while dealing with cognitive changes.
She told me something that broke my heart:
“I can cry at the drop of a hat. I’m not easily like that. Never. Never would I.”
She was apologizing for being vulnerable. For needing help. For becoming someone she doesn’t recognize.
Here’s what I want you to know about how we approached her care:
We didn’t just adjust medications.
Yes, we optimized her treatment and arranged specialist follow-up. But that was just the beginning.
We addressed her nutrition.
I gave her a month-long memory-friendly diet plan with shopping lists and daily meal ideas.
Not because diet cures disease, but because it gives her agency.
She can’t control the disease progression, but she can control what she puts in her body.
That sense of control is hope.
We talked about her spirit.
I reminded her that she cannot be the last option in her own life.
That it’s okay to believe in a power greater than herself.
That her three-legged stool — body, soul, and spirit — all need attention to keep her balanced.
We commanded her to stop and accept help.
She was doing everything alone, and I had to be direct:
“Stop. Get help. Call your family. Reach out to your community. You cannot do this by yourself.”
We made her laugh.
After the tears came laughter, because joy is medicine too.
It changes the atmosphere from despair to possibility.
And I promised her:
“We will walk this journey together.”
This is what holistic medicine looks like in the hardest moments.
It’s not about choosing between science and compassion, between medications and meals, between specialist care and spirituality.
It’s about recognizing that every person is more than their diagnosis — they are body, soul, and spirit, and all three need our attention.
When someone is facing a disease that threatens their very sense of self, our job isn’t just to manage pathology.
It’s to walk alongside them, support their whole person, preserve their dignity, and remind them they’re not alone.
That’s the medicine I believe in.
That’s the care every person deserves.
This is The Doctor’s House — The Doorway to Healing.
