How to Find The Right Doctor

Happy Sunday! It feels really good to be back here. One of my goals is to get back into the rhythm of writing these newsletters every week. I’ve missed having this little corner of the internet where we can go a little deeper than social media allows. Sometimes it’s about motherhood, sometimes it’s wellness, sometimes it’s something that’s been sitting on my heart that I can’t quite fit into an Instagram caption.

This week, I wanted to share a story that completely changed the way I think about healthcare. It’s personal, it’s a little scary in hindsight, and it’s the reason I created the guide I’m sharing with you today. My hope is that it gives you permission to ask more questions, trust yourself a little more, and remember that finding the right doctor isn’t about finding the “best” one. It’s about finding the one who’s the best fit for you.

There are certain moments in life that quietly split your life into a before and an after. Having a baby was one of them. But oddly enough, so was what happened afterward.

I don’t think I’ve shared this story in its entirety yet, partly because I was still processing it myself. But it’s become one of those experiences that fundamentally changed how I think about healthcare, doctors, and the role we’re allowed to play in our own medical care.

After I gave birth, I experienced significant bleeding that eventually led to the discovery that I had retained placenta. What followed wasn’t a quick fix. It was weeks of uncertainty, multiple rounds of misoprostol, countless appointments, and eventually scheduling surgery. My OB-GYN wanted my endometriosis surgeon to perform the procedure because he already knew my anatomy and medical history so well.

Before surgery, I had an MRI so my surgeon would have a better idea of how long to book my surgical suite for. Then, one of my other doctors accessed the MRI report, called me two days before my procedure and said that everything looked like it was healing great. I was deeply confused. Confusion. Panic. Fear. There was placenta in there, right?!? My surgery to remove said placenta was on the books, happening in 48 hours??

My endometriosis surgeon looked at the exact same images and said, “We’re doing the surgery.” I trusted him, and I’m incredibly grateful that I did.

During surgery, the retained placenta was exactly where he suspected it would be. Even more unexpectedly, pathology later found abnormal trophoblastic cells with malignant potential. If I had accepted that first interpretation of my MRI as the final answer, my story could have looked very different.

The point of telling you this isn’t that one doctor was right and another was wrong (even though in this instance one was CLEARLY RIGHT and one was very, very wrong). The point is something much bigger. Medicine has variance.

We spend so much time talking about healthcare as though every board-certified physician practices medicine exactly the same way. They don’t. Some doctors are naturally more curious. Some explain every step of their thinking. Some collaborate with patients. Some are comfortable saying, “I don’t know yet.” Others interrupt before you’ve even finished explaining what’s happening in your own body. That variation matters far more than I ever realized.

What’s interesting is that nobody really teaches us how to choose a doctor. We learn how to choose colleges. We compare apartments. We spend hours researching skincare products. We read endless reviews before buying a stroller. But one of the most important decisions we’ll ever make—who we trust with our health—is often made by scrolling through an insurance directory and taking the first available appointment.

I’ve done it. I’ve also chased prestigious hospital names because I assumed the best hospital automatically meant the best doctor. It doesn’t. Some of the best physicians I’ve ever worked with weren’t necessarily the most famous. They were the ones who listened. The ones who stayed curious. The ones who made me feel like we were solving a problem together.

For years, I think I was asking the wrong question. Instead of asking, Who’s the best doctor? I should have been asking, Who’s the right doctor for me? Those are two completely different questions.

Medicine isn’t just about competence once someone has reached that baseline of excellent training. It’s about philosophy. Communication. Curiosity. Humility. It’s about whether someone treats you like a partner instead of another appointment squeezed into an already busy day.

And this isn’t just my story. We know women wait longer for diagnoses. Our pain is more likely to be minimized or attributed to stress and anxiety. So many of us have walked out of an appointment with that quiet feeling in our gut that says, Something still isn’t right. That feeling deserves attention.

Not because doctors are the enemy, and certainly not because TikTok, Reddit, or AI know more than physicians. I actually believe the opposite. The answer isn’t becoming anti-doctor. It’s becoming a better partner in your own care.

The best medical outcomes happen when both people bring something valuable to the table. Your physician brings years of education, pattern recognition, clinical experience, and expertise. You bring something equally important: the lived experience of your own body. You’re the only person who knows what “normal” feels like for you. You’re the one living with the symptoms between appointments. You’re the one noticing the subtle changes that don’t show up in a lab value. Neither perspective works nearly as well without the other.

That partnership has completely changed how I approach healthcare. It’s also why I spent time creating the guide I’m sharing with you this week.

I wish someone had handed me something like this when I was twenty-five. Not so I could diagnose myself. Not so I’d distrust medicine. But so I’d understand something I didn’t learn until much later: you are allowed to keep looking until you find a physician who listens. You’re allowed to ask questions. You’re allowed to seek another opinion. You’re allowed to want someone who explains instead of dismisses. You’re allowed to work with a doctor who treats you as an active participant in your own health and not just another name on the schedule.

Healthcare shouldn’t feel like you’re hoping to be believed. It should feel like you’ve found a teammate.

If this guide helps even one woman feel more confident walking into her next appointment, asking one more question, or finding the doctor who’s the right fit for her, then sharing this story will have been worth it.

Xo,

Lo