While practicing Geriatrics, I had the incredible opportunity to direct the High Intensity Clinic, which focused on managing complex patients using a geriatric model. These patients often had multiple admissions and emergency room visits—they were so sick, they could be admitted at any moment. Despite the complexity, we were able to reduce emergency room visits by over 70% in 6 months and over 50% in just the first six months.

In many interviews, people asked me how we achieved this. First, it was all about teamwork—I worked alongside a fantastic team that included a pharmacist, nurse, and social worker. But the second reason? I was just myself. I brought my authentic self to every patient interaction, taking time to talk to them and get to know their backstory—their upbringing, their current challenges, and how they navigated life. Every single one of my patients faced difficult social determinants of health, and understanding their personal stories was key to providing better care.

Many of my patients had my cellphone number, and as a mother of three, I often found myself answering calls during track meets or even bath time. They saw the real me—no polished professional veneer—and that authenticity helped build an incredible level of trust, transparency, and honesty. My patients knew they could reach out anytime, and I would be there for them. This connection was strengthened even further by my understanding of the obstacles and adversity many of them faced. My patients ranged in age from 22 to 90, and many were women, individuals of color, or from historically undervalued populations such as rural communities and LGBTQ groups. I understood their struggles because I had either experienced similar situations myself, cared for someone who had, or worked closely with people facing those same challenges. That shared understanding allowed me to connect on a deeper level, which was key to building the relationships that made the clinic so successful.

After leaving my role in geriatric medicine, I had a sobering realization: many of the diverse patients I hoped to serve weren't making it to old age, falling victim to health disparities far too soon. That hit me hard, and I knew something had to change. So, in true Yoleetah fashion, I got creative and started calling myself a "geridoula." Like a doula guides babies into the world, I wanted to guide people into their golden years—minus the diaper changes (hopefully). My return to internal medicine was driven by a desire to tackle these early deaths head-on, with a focus on preventive care and equitable health access.

This experience fuels my passion for the Medical Education Foundation, where I work to bridge gaps in health and healthcare through education. By blending advocacy, personalized care, and a touch of humor, I’m determined to help more people live long enough to enjoy their senior discounts. Through the foundation, I’m shaping initiatives to start health education early, build lifelong healthy habits, and foster greater health literacy—because it’s never too soon to start planning for those golden years, especially for the underserved communities that need it most.