The Hopewell Foundation for Regenerative Medicine wasn't born in a lab. It was born out of pain, loss, and the realization that patients deserve better options than what currently exists.
Before I tell you what happened to me, I want you to imagine something for a second.
Imagine going in for a simple haircut. The hairdresser makes a mistake — a really bad one. They spin the chair around, and suddenly you're staring at someone in the mirror you don't recognize.
Your stomach drops. You feel panic. Shock. Anxiety.
For a moment, it almost feels dissociative, because the person looking back at you doesn't feel like you anymore.
But eventually you calm yourself down because you know one thing:
Hair grows back.
Now imagine that same feeling —
but in the center of your face.
And this time, it's permanent.
That's where my story begins.
At 27 years old, I underwent what I thought would be a routine nasal procedure. Like many patients, I didn't fully understand how complex the nose actually is — how delicate and interconnected the structure is, and how changing one part affects everything else.
Before surgery, I had plans for my future. My life felt stable. Normal. Full of possibility.
But when the cast came off, I knew something was wrong.
As the swelling slowly went down, reality became impossible to ignore.
Most of my nose was gone.
In one moment, my life completely changed.
What followed wasn't a quick fix or simple revision. It became years of reconstruction, uncertainty, pain, and trying to hold onto some sense of myself through all of it.
I was told the only way to rebuild my nose was to remove cartilage from my rib. I remember thinking how unbelievable that sounded — sacrificing one part of my body just to try and repair another.
But I didn't feel like I had a choice.
The surgery was brutal. The recovery was painful. But honestly, the emotional impact was the hardest part.
Because when your face changes, it affects everything.
It changes how you see yourself. How you move through the world. How safe you feel in your own body.
I remember looking in the mirror after surgery and feeling like I was grieving someone — the version of myself I used to recognize.
And even after all of that, complications followed.
The cartilage warped. My breathing worsened. One side of my nose became structurally damaged.
At that point, this was no longer cosmetic. It was functional. I struggled to breathe properly, yet the healthcare system still failed me.
Insurance limited me to in-network providers, many of whom openly admitted my case was beyond their expertise and told me I needed specialized reconstructive care out of state.
My claims were still denied.
So I was left paying out of pocket for someone else's mistake while trying to survive physically, emotionally, and financially.
Over time, I realized something much bigger than my own story:
We desperately need better reconstructive options.
Patients are still being told to sacrifice healthy tissue from their ribs, foreheads, and other parts of their bodies because medicine has not fully caught up yet.
And for me, one question kept repeating in my head:
Why are we still accepting this as the best we can do?
That question is what led me to regenerative medicine.
Not because I think innovation should replace surgeons or medicine as we know it — but because I believe patients deserve a future with safer, better, and more restorative options.
Over the last five years, I've had to come to terms with the fact that what happened to me is permanent. And one of the hardest parts has been accepting that someone else's mistake would live on my face forever.
That changes you.
But it also gave me purpose.
That's why I created Hopewell.
Not just to tell my story, but to help change the future of reconstruction for the people who come after me.
Because innovation in medicine should not happen in isolation.
It should happen with patients at the center.
And no one should have to sacrifice one part of their body just to try and repair another.