I've spent over a decade learning where healthcare systems break down — and building the structures that hold them together.
How I got here
I started my career as a Patient Care Coordinator, and that's where I learned how much the system shapes the work. The people closest to patients see it most clearly: where the friction is, where handoffs fail, where a process asks too much of the wrong person. When labs kept calling to ask which codes to use, I didn't just answer the phone. I built a standardized lab order, and it's still in use today. That set the pattern for everything that followed.
As an Operations Coordinator, I discovered that you can't fix what you can't see. I went after visibility — automating SOP approvals so key processes stopped stalling, and becoming the first to surface our patient retention data.
As a Clinic Director, I found that systems matter as much as having the right people. A strong team stuck in a bad system burns out, and a bad system can sink an organization no matter who's in it. That pushed me to think about the whole experience — from how the clinic felt to patients walking in, to how referral sources understood our work.
As National HIPAA Compliance Officer across an 11-clinic network, I learned to lead at scale through data — tracking incidents by location and individual for the first time so we could intervene where it mattered.
Today, as a Market Director for outpatient behavioral health, I’m doing the same work at a larger scale across three PHP/IOP programs: finding where patients fall through the gaps between levels of care, building the systems to close them, and guiding teams to think more strategically, so that better decisions lead to better outcomes and lasting growth.
Each role widened the lens: from one phone line to one clinic to an entire market. The work has stayed the same — find what's getting in the way of good care, and build something durable.
What I believe
Operational clarity is a clinical intervention
When workflows are unclear, patients fall through gaps and staff absorb the cost. Consistent processes protect patients as much as any treatment plan does, so I build them with the same care.
Good care and good business aren't opposites.
Financially strong programs can hire well, stay open, and reach more people. Patient-centered programs earn the trust that keeps them full. I don't accept a trade-off between the two.
Growth without infrastructure is a liability.
Expanding access matters, but access that outpaces its supporting systems creates new failure points. I tie growth strategy to the capacity needed to sustain it, so what gets built is durable.
What I'm thinking about
I'm most interested in the gap between how behavioral health care is designed and how it actually gets delivered — and what it takes to close it at scale. That means thinking about transitions between levels of care, how staffing structures shape clinical behavior, and where automation can reduce friction without removing the human judgment that care requires.
Where I'm headed
I’m building toward a version of healthcare that refuses the false choice between patients and profit. Programs that are financially strong can hire well, stay open, and reach more people. Teams that are well supported deliver better care. I want to build organizations where all three are true at once: patients get care that works, the business has room to grow, and the people doing the work leave energized, not depleted.