Let’s say it out loud with me again: American healthcare is broken. Not strained. Not “in need of reform.” Like, burn-it-to-the-ground broken!
If you’ve ever waited months for a specialist, cried in a parking lot after a rushed, invalidating visit, or fought a bill that made no sense—you already know. If you’re a provider like me, watching your time, energy, and ethics get drained by quotas and insurance rules, you definitely know. Everyone is getting second-guessed and dismissed on all sides of the relationship.
This isn’t about tweaking the system. It’s about recognizing that it was built to serve profit—not people.
Even with insurance, getting care often feels like running a marathon through mud—prior authorizations, out-of-pocket shocks, inaccessible specialists, and confusing bills. You’re forced to become your own case manager, medical interpreter, and billing expert just to get your basic needs met. Are you educated in this realm of life? I’m sure not!
Uninsured or underinsured? It’s even worse. You’re left choosing between cash-pay clinics with unclear pricing or skipping care altogether. Preventive care, mental health support, gender-affirming treatments, and sexual wellness services are scarce—unless you’re privileged, urban, and can pay upfront. Wellness shouldn’t be available to only the entitled with tethers to the inside of the system.
Let’s be honest: “Have someone go with you to every appointment” is now standard advice. That’s not health care. That’s survival training. And, now you need the buddy system.
As a board-certified emergency physician with decades of experience, I’ve seen how quickly care gets replaced by checklists. Productivity quotas. Charting algorithms. Insurance obstacles. It’s a machine, and providers are the gears that grind until they break. I broke.
What many call “burnout” is actually moral injury—the crushing emotional toll of knowing what a patient needs and being unable to give it because the system penalizes time, nuance, and empathy.
It’s not just exhausting. It’s soul-depleting. And, I shattered. Can you relate?
And it’s why so many brilliant, compassionate clinicians are walking away from traditional care—and creating their own models that center what medicine was always supposed to be about: human connection.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: this system isn’t “broken” for everyone. It’s working exactly as intended for private insurers, hospital conglomerates, pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs), and corporate telehealth startups.
When profits go up while outcomes stagnate and everyone’s miserable, we need to stop pretending it’s an accident. It’s by design.
Everyone except the people making money.
But especially: Black, Brown, queer, trans, disabled, fat, low-income, female-identifying, undocumented, and rural folks. People navigating trauma, chronic illness, or any identity that doesn’t fit the default “average patient” mold. So, unless you’re a rich White penis-owner, forgettaboutit.
Providers from marginalized communities face their own barriers: racism, misogyny, transphobia, ableism, and the constant pressure to code-switch or conform to systems that weren’t built with them—or their patients—in mind. Lawd, do not get me started on the consistent microaggressions from patients, staff, and colleagues.
It doesn’t have to be like this.
We can reimagine care that isn’t based on speed, shame, or spreadsheets. That means:
Some of us are already doing this. I built my concierge telehealth practice to do exactly that: offer inclusive, whole-person care that affirms sexual, physical, and mental wellness—without insurance interference.
Patients shouldn’t dread doctor visits. Providers shouldn’t cry after every shift. We’re all trapped in a system that asks us to accept frustration, disconnection, and suffering.
But it’s not normal.
It’s just profitable.
And that’s the problem. And, it’s YUUUGE!!!
Looking for care that sees your full humanity? Want a provider who respects your time, body, and boundaries? Tired of explaining your identity or needs over and over?
Let’s work together. My concierge telehealth model is built to support:
Because you’re not a billing code. And neither am I. Let’s do this, and let’s do it together!
