Because in a world of greed and upcharges, compassion is revolutionary.

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not easily impressed—especially not by people in lab coats or behind reception desks with billing codes dancing in their eyes. But every once in a while, someone in the medical field reminds me that this world isn’t entirely broken. That there are still healers who care more about helping than profiting.

🦷 My Dentist

He’s been taking care of me since I was a kid. No pressure. No guilt trips. No unnecessary procedures. If it’s not urgent, he says so. If he can cut a deal, he does. When times were tough, he made payments work and never made me feel like a burden.

Compare that to the dentist I tried in Traverse City: thousands of dollars later, I had white fillings I didn’t ask for, a crowned tooth that didn’t need crowning, and a wallet crying in the parking lot. I crawled back to my original dentist like he was my long-lost soulmate—because he is.

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🦴 My Chiropractor

I found him when I was pregnant and desperate for relief. My old chiropractor treated me like a wrestling opponent; I needed someone gentle, especially with a baby on board. This man listens, adjusts carefully, and genuinely cares. When my insurance capped my visits, he told me to keep coming anyway because he didn’t want me in pain. No pressure. No manipulation. Just a good person doing good work.

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🧠 My Therapist

My last therapist vanished the moment my insurance did. My current one did the opposite—negotiated the lowest possible out-of-pocket rate so I could keep going. Because mental health doesn’t wait for a better deductible. Because they saw me as a person, not a billing code. Because they actually care.

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Special Mentions: My OB & PCP in Traverse City

After I lost my baby, my OB looked me in the eye and said, “We’ll get you pregnant.” She handed me Femara that same day and gave me hope when I was drowning in grief.

And when my regular doctor went on maternity leave, her fill-in listened to my whole messy situation, paused, and said flatly, “Men suck.” Then she wrote the prescription I needed. It was blunt. It was perfect.

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Closing Thoughts

It’s easy to be bitter about the system—and most days, I still am. But these providers? They’re the rare spells that work. The ones that remind me humanity isn’t extinct.

To every doctor, therapist, and healer who puts care before cash: you are the good kind of magic. And I see you.