“I’ve dealt with balancing a lot throughout my career—finding a balance between the
demands of medicine, family and the military. I was mobilized five times, including
four months in Iraq, where we cared for 20,000 detainees. I was fortunate. I did not
see direct or intense combat. . . . I was forced to deal with stress as a child.
I grew up as the son of a coal miner in Western Pennsylvania; my father was an abusive
alcoholic. I learned to survive. . . . By the time I was 15, I was angry. I hated
life. At a youth service at my church, I decided I was done with hate. I said: ‘God,
I surrender. My life is yours. I’m not going to hold this anger anymore.’ . . . My
faith has served as a foundation for all I do. It’s very clear to me that God has
used my past and my experiences to provide me with guidance and direction. I like
to think I was called to be a physician. If you are called, you look at your career
differently. It’s not just a job. . . . My role as an osteopathic physician is to
focus on the mind, body and spirit in patient care. I’m not afraid to ask my patients
about their spiritual life. It’s a good thing to ask. . . . When I talk with patients
who are in what looks like a hopeless situation, I think back to when I went through
my divorce, with those real challenges and obstacles that I had before me. There seemed
like no way out. I’d lost hope. It’s horrible to feel like you have no hope. I tell
my patients: ‘While the situation may seem bleak, there’s always a choice. It might
be a bad choice, but you are not stuck.’ And I encourage them to have faith. Currently,
I am blessed to have the support of a wonderful wife and family. I could not continue
this work without them. . . . About a year ago, I came across a prayer written by
Dr. Andrew Taylor Still, the founder of osteopathy. It reads, ‘Dear Lord, thou great
physician: I kneel before thee. Since every good and perfect gift must come from thee,
I pray, give skill to my hand, clear vision to my mind, kindness and sympathy to my
heart. Give me singleness of purpose, strength to lift at least a part of the burden
of my suffering fellow man and a true realization of the privilege that is mine. Take
from my heart all guile and worldliness that with the simple faith of a child I may
rely on thee. Amen.’ The words resonate and comfort me. They have become my prayer.”
© 2024 Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine