The short version
I was a paramedic for nine years. Then my body stopped working and the medical system told me I was imagining it. Thirty-three doctors. Seven years in bed. I diagnosed myself. POTS — a real condition with a real name that was invisible to everyone who'd looked.
I started speaking about what patients experience. Healthcare conferences, pharma boardrooms, medical schools. I was good at it. I trained 20,000 professionals across 27 countries.
Then I noticed something.
The performance I was naming in medical systems — the one where everyone agrees and nobody means it, where someone says I'm fine and isn't — was running inside every organisation I entered. The patient wasn't a special case. The patient was just the one who couldn't pretend anymore.
So I stopped being a healthcare speaker. And I started being the person who walks into any room and goes first.
There's a name for what happens after that. I call it Testimony-Based Presence.
Two ways in
The Room
Half a day. Ten people. No slides. No agenda that protects anyone. The topic is chosen by the host. What happens inside is always the same: people leave knowing something they came in carrying but couldn't name.
The Room →The Stage
45–90 minutes. The talk your audience will quote back to you in the corridor. Not inspiration. Not tools. The moment someone on stage says the thing nobody in the room was willing to say — and everything recalibrates.
Speaking →For teams that have stopped seeing each other
Every organisation has a room where people perform being fine. Where the real thing — the exhaustion, the disagreement, the thing nobody will say first — stays under the table, costing you in ways no dashboard catches.
I spent seven years as the person nobody would believe. It taught me exactly what it looks like when someone is in the room and not being seen — and what changes the moment that breaks.
I bring that into rooms in pharma, healthcare, and leadership. No slides. The room does the work. People leave knowing something they walked in carrying but couldn't name.
Who comes to these rooms
Leaders who have forgotten they chose this.
Clinicians who stopped feeling in order to keep going.
Teams where everyone agrees and nobody means it.
Organisations where the performance has been running long enough to cost something.
Anyone who has been seen as a function for so long they've forgotten they're a person.
Recent writing
Essays, reflections, and long-form writing on illness, voice, presence, and the gap between what we feel and what we say.
All essays →The books
Seven books.
One argument.
What patients actually experience. What the system believes they experience. And what it takes to close the gap.
All books →The Algorithm Will See You Now
2026
What AI can do in healthcare. What it cannot see. And the patients it will abandon if we don't ask harder questions.
Revolution From My Bed
2024
Ten years. 3,650 days. What patients actually do when medicine doesn't have an answer yet.
What people say
I left with the feeling that I had grown on a human level.
I could put it into practice the same evening — with a patient.
My personal highlight was Roi's keynote on why chronically ill people might be our best employees.
If your room has been performing fine for long enough —
that's where this work starts.