I specialize in solving medical mysteries. Patients from around the world have sought my expertise to unlock the secrets of their illness, after other practitioners have been unable to do so. Some call this type of physician a "medical detective" or "zebra hunter." I take such terms one step further and call myself a "comprehensivist," or a diagnostician who focuses on the most difficult differential diagnoses. A comprehensivist is a medical detective who sees beyond mainstream medicine in order to solve an evasive health issue. It's a zebra hunter who is ready to take on the giraffe as well. Discover magazine calls me "the real dr. house," named after a TV character who cracks the most difficult medical mysteries in 57 minutes. I discuss the comparison in an essay called "The Origins of Doctor House."

A comprehensivist is a subspecialist of everything, as everything interconnects anatomically, chemically. metaphorically, emotionally, socially, psychologically, religiously, spiritually, and so on. I explore spirituality in the Mind_Body_Soul section of this website.  Spirituality takes the zebra hunter one step further. It sharpens the strategy in catching a zebra, and reduces the risk of over-simplifying a hunt. Spirituality is often considered mystical and magical when applied to medicine. I see intuition as the translation of one's knowledge and wisdom, and discuss it in an essay called Shoelace Wisdom . I witness synchronicity on a daily basis, which intuition laces itself into in mysterious ways. The realization of the presence of synchronicity doesn't appear to have anything to do with my diagnostic abilities. My feeling is it's a phenomenon which our conscious minds sometimes see, when enough pieces of the puzzle are realized (kind of like Vanna White flipping the letters one at a time on "Wheel of Fortune," until one of the contestants sees the missing letters in their mind, and hits the button and gives the answer to the mysterious phrase). Synchronicity, so far, has been entertaining and evocative, and is the foundation of most of my "magic moments." I still wonder about its significance, as it might indicate mightier forces than ourselves, or that the "kingdom of heaven" is actually within each one of us. The only application of synchronicity in my life at the moment is to appreciate its beauty like a falling star on a deep blue sky, a sunset on a cool breezy beach, or a smile.

I openly dispel any association of intuition to myth or magic, and discuss the topic throughout this website. Spirituality is often linked to religion, but doesn't have to be. Doctor Gregory House is a pessimistic atheist who holds his glass half-empty, but his "gift" in solving a mystery is spiritual. House and I both have insatiable curiosities, and carry the same little black bags containing the same instruments, to solve them. The difference is that my doctor's bag also contains the Serenity Prayer, which keeps all overwhelming curiosities in the realm of sanity. The comprehensivist is driven by empathy, which House buries beneath his rudeness. We know it's there despite his efforts to make us think otherwise.

When we drive a car, most of us worry only about turning a key to start the ignition, and never open up the hood, and see how the car actually works. My essays are all about looking under the hood, to assist other practitioners and patients in understanding the mystery of a mystery. Knowledge and wisdom usually lead to fewer mistakes and more happiness. A grinch in a lab coat named House reminds us that success in solving a mystery will not guarantee happiness or a world less miserable. It's a paradox at first glance, but easily explained by relativity of perception, which also sits under the hood of one's car, and another topic for another time.

Exploring one's mind and soul are valuable tools in sorting through diagnostic possibilities and treatment options, and solving unusual and difficult cases, i.e., the "medical mysteries." Unfortunately, modern medicine gives most healers time to look at only the body.  As we moved forward in technology, mind-body-soul, diet, nutrition, and time spent for physician-patient "human" contact, were the babies we mistook for bathwater.

Mysteries are often treated as something which cannot be seen. I see a mystery as something I cannot see yet.

My Approach to Medicine as a Healer

I am an Internist practicing comprehensive Integrated Medicine, diagnosing as many of the "undiagnosable" as possible ("Comprehensivist").  I am a Medical Detective, or Unusual Symptoms Investigator, combining conventional, herbal and nutritional treatment methods to combat symptoms which compromise one's quality of life.  I rely on medical knowledge, intuition, common sense and good judgment. I treat each patient as "captain of their own ship" and approach each case almost always as "navigator."  A pharmaceutical rep once asked what I prescribe the most?  I told her "hope."  She said, "who makes that?"  I told her "the same guy who made the earth and sky."

I place emphasis on a questionnaire, copies of previous tests, and a 2-week food diary to begin solving the mysteries of illness, which are often revealed through patient-discussions.  After the "obvious" causes of one's symptoms have been ruled-out by other practitioners,  I search for the "not-so-obvious" ones. A colleague of mine, mentor and good friend Dr Robert Scully once said "there's a saying in medicine that if you hear hooves, don't go hunting for zebras. Most of us look for horses. But Tom, he's a zebra hunter." The patients who see me for chronic undiagnosed illness have often seen innumerable numbers of health care practitioners, are at "wit's end," and on the edge of losing all hope (occasionally I see individuals completely void of hope, reluctantly dragged into my office by a concerned family member or friend).

My consultations include history and physical, but I will often set extra time aside to discuss a personal topic with a patient after traditional history and physical is completed. For example, if a car mechanic comes to my office, I might ask his opinion on weber carburators, after listening to the story of his illness in full detail. A patient's response often provides insight into the illness itself. Understanding who I am and why I am listening to them instills hope, motivation and enthusiasm, and hopefully erases fears. It lets them know I'm human, and my goals as a navigator. Words heal: They are capable of turning mountains into mo-hills, and vice-versa. They can give hope or despair, aggravation or peace of mind. The ultimate goal is to achieve serenity.  Silence is important as well as it is the fuel for introspection, and self-valuation. Life often is so busy that we often forget to set time aside to take a good look at ourselves.

I space my patient-schedule loosely enough for my challenging cases to provide time for such conversations to take place, i.e., no time is sacrificed for the traditional one-hour initial office visit. My local midtown house call practice is focused on taking care of elderly who are unable to leave home, and busy travellers and entertainers who who have time constraints. House calls allow me to see one's home, which some say is a way of peaking into one's soul. It also can lead to a nice cup of coffee or authentic ethnic meals. I feel quite privileged to be a doctor, and take the job quite seriously,

Essays and Quotes

My life, my friends

There are a lot of people in my life or whom I've met that make life interesting. I've never a dull moment.  My friends will attest to that, hands down.  It tends to hover in the realm of adventure and chaos and serenity. Quality of life is so much more important than quantity, though it's nice to have both.  The compromised quality of one's life also compromise's that of family and friends. Solving a mystery will therefore have a positive cascading effect on patients and those who love them.  There's nothing more gratifying than that.  It's a spirituality builder in a material world.  One can't put a price on kind words such as "thank you," or prescribing hope, or restoring faith. Faith and hope are spiritual prescriptions for healing the body, and are expressed from the most important part of a stethoscope, i.e., which fits between the ear pieces, and which we sometimes rest a hat on.

We also cannot put a price on the wisdom we acquire from life's adversities.  We get to enjoy this thing called "life" for such a short amount of time, as we are all "only visiting this planet." We leave our possessions behind when we go. There's no prescription for true happiness because the answer is already in each one of us. We run around and look for it, but it's already there, ready to be apreciated whenever you are.  It will embrace you only if you want it to. It will evade you as long as you play "victim." People look for it in stores, at the realtors or in a car dealership. Some believe it's in the nicest home on the nicest block in the nicest town. Or maybe a tropical island. We somehow believe it's a key we can lose, or held by someone else.  The ones who supposedly hold our lost key are those we possess. We blame them for chains we place ourselves, believing the key is in their hands, and not our own.  Setting one free should never be an issue, as no one should ever be possessed by another in the first place.

So where lies true happiness?  I tell my friends it's in Utah.  Because if that's where my car broke down, I know that's where they'd drive to, and pick me up, and take me home. Friends are priceless, and if you lose one, then you probably have one less than you should have. The problem is, it's been said so many times that we no longer appreciate the statement when it's said.  It's something we see spiritually long after we no longer see it with our own eyes. If you're lucky enough to realize a bird in the hand is better than 2 in the bush, make sure you don't hold on so tightly that it's unable to fly (remember, it's your hand, not a cage). And if you're the bird in the hand, keep an eye on the bush.

The "Sub Club,*" a.k.a., MySpace/RealDoctorHouse

* "Sub Club" (submarine club) is my virtual version of a doctor's "Yacht Club" or a 4-year-old's "sand box." I don't play golf: I see the sport similarly to Robin Williams' description of it. MySpace is a playground to explore the universe surrounding my intense and demanding world of medical mystery solving. It's a creative hyperspacial oasis of fertile evocative entertainment."