A personal story of love, struggle, and building hope in rural Oregon
In 2024, as startup cofounders burning the midnight oil in Waldport, Oregon, we thought we understood challenge. We were building AI solutions for other industries, tackling complex problems with cutting-edge technology. But nothing prepared us for the challenge that would change everything—not just our lives, but our entire mission.
Toni had been mentioning increasing inflammatory pain for weeks, but like many rural Oregonians, we figured it was just part of getting older, maybe overwork, maybe stress. When we finally made it to medical appointments, I watched helplessly as Toni tried to explain her evolving condition in the precious few minutes allocated for patient communication. The complexity, the nuances, the timeline—none of it fit into the rigid 15-minute appointment structure.
Then came the cascade of seemingly unrelated symptoms: headaches that wouldn't quit, neck issues that made it hard to work, and neuropathy that felt like electrical shocks through her limbs. Each symptom sent us to different specialists, each appointment starting from scratch, each doctor working with fragments of a larger puzzle that no one could see whole.
I remember sitting in yet another treatment room, watching Toni struggle to recall which symptoms started when, which medications made what better or worse, which tests showed what results.
As a former Silicon Valley biotech researcher with five patents for identifying targets related to current ischemic stroke treatments, I had spent years building systems to track complex medical data. But here I was, completely helpless, watching the woman I love navigate a medical system that seemed designed to lose the very information that could save her.
The breaking point came when an amazing RN's "spidey sense" converged with our growing understanding that Toni's issues encompassed neurological problems.
The scans revealed what we had feared: a brain tumor, cervical stenosis, and an autoimmune condition that had been hiding in plain sight for years.
In thirty days, Toni endured over 100 tests while we tried to coordinate care between specialists who rarely communicated.
The final insult came from a neurosurgery consult that wouldn't address her listed symptoms, only grudgingly amending notes to acknowledge the possible impact of her stenosis.
I downloaded all her images and spent sleepless nights writing a full 3D MRI analysis engine—not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Because the only alternative was watching Toni suffer while the medical system failed her.
That's when MedAdvocate was born. Not in a boardroom, not from market research, but from desperation at 3 AM in rural Oregon.
We built what we wished had existed: a central place to log symptoms with time and date, record test results, and create powerful ways to communicate with disparate specialists. We built it because we needed it. We built it because Toni needed it. We built it because thousands of other patients navigating complex conditions need it too.
Today, Toni is stable. She's managing her conditions with a care team that finally communicates effectively. We still have challenging days, but we also have tools that work. We have data that makes sense. We have a voice in the room during medical appointments.
Every feature, every algorithm, every user interface decision in MedAdvocate comes from those sleepless nights in Waldport, from watching Toni struggle to be heard, from learning that when healthcare fails you, sometimes you have to build the solution yourself.
Now, when patients tell us they finally felt heard at their appointments because they had organized data, when they say their doctors actually looked at their symptom timeline, when they share that they got a diagnosis months faster than they expected—we know why we're doing this.
We didn't just build software. We built empowerment. We built dignity. We built the advocate we wished had been in our corner during the darkest moments.