I walked, or should I say hobbled, into his office as a 15-year-old teenager. For months I had been in pain, barely able to walk, often relying on a cane or crutches to get around.
He walked into the room and looked almost as young as me. Now, 31 years later, there is not a man I trust more — one who literally holds my life in his hands.
With each visit, each test, and each new treatment, I know he’s working towards helping me with my health, my well-being, my quality of life, and, if possible, my healing.
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