I recently had the honor of speaking at the Olympia Free Clinic’s Annual 'Care for All' Breakfast Fundraiser—a morning filled with compassion, community, and hope!
I shared my deeply personal story, from fleeing Vietnam just weeks before the fall of Saigon, to building a practice in Olympia rooted in human connection.
Here’s the full video and transcript of that talk.
TRANSCRIPT:
Good morning, everyone.
It’s such a joy to be here with all of you,
friends, colleagues, and community partners,
who share a deep commitment to caring for the most vulnerable among us.
When I think about the Olympia Free Clinic,
I think about hope:
the kind of hope that sustains people
when everything else has been stripped away.
And for me, that story of hope began a long time ago
in Vietnam, where I was born the 9th child of 10.
My family fled Vietnam just weeks before the fall of Saigon.
My mom was pregnant with my youngest sister.
We escaped with nothing but the shirts on our backs
and the hope of finding safety and freedom.
Because my dad worked with the CIA during the war,
our family was among those allowed to evacuate.
We climbed aboard a U.S. military B-52 bomber
(with the bombs removed, of course)
families packed in like sardines.
We flew to Guam, the nearest American base,
and eventually to Fort Chaffee in Little Rock, Arkansas,
one of several refugee camps for Vietnamese families.
From there, we were sponsored by a kind Methodist family,
the Brunos, in Oklahoma City,
who let us live in their basement until we could get on our own feet.
My dad worked double shifts,
while my older siblings took whatever jobs they could find--
maid, janitor, factory line worker.
We worked very hard, learned English,
and slowly began rebuilding our lives.
Eventually, we moved to the San Francisco Bay Area,
San Jose, to be exact,
because we heard that there was a large Vietnamese population there.
And for a short time, we were on welfare.
But 2 years later, My dad thanked the government for their support
and told them that we didn’t need welfare assistance anymore.
I remember him telling me years later, when I was old enough to understand,
that it was one of his proudest moments.
Our family became naturalized U.S. citizens when I started junior high,
and my dad marked that milestone in his own way.
You see, my family members with difficult-to-pronounce Vietnamese first names
got a chance to choose a more American name,
(mine stayed the same, of course, since it was just Kim)
and my dad changed his to Bodja,
which was an acronym for Brave Old Dad Joins America.
That spirit of hard work, gratitude, and resilience
became the foundation of our family.
My interest in medicine began when I was 5,
in Oklahoma City,
after a bike accident where my foot got caught in the wheel spokes
while riding on the back of my older brother’s bicycle...
actually, we were going to a Halloween haunted house in the neighborhood.
A local family physician, Dr. Wright,
provided pro bono care for my foot injury,
and his compassion truly inspired me.
That experience demonstrated the essence of humanism in medicine
and has remained a guiding principle throughout my life.
Subsequently, I pursued my pre-med studies at Stanford University.
While applying to medical school, I was at a crossroads:
go to med school and take on more debt,
or accept a job offer at an exciting biotech startup.
With an economic downturn
and the obligation to contribute financially to my family,
the choice made sense to go the startup route,
and it paid off.
Literally.
Within 2 yrs, I successfully paid off my college loans
after earning 2% of the company in stock options.
But life has a funny way of calling us back
to what we’re meant to do.
My path back to medicine came through
a series of devastating family illnesses.
My youngest sister was a bright, young financial advisor in New York.
After returning home from a trip to Cozumel,
she contracted a rare parasitic infection.
As I began preparing to reapply to medical school,
now as a non-traditional student,
my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer,
likely related to his Agent Orange exposure during the war.
He died just 3 mos later, with mets to the liver.
My mother passed away less than 3 yrs after him,
from what we believe was a broken heart.
And just months before I was accepted into med school,
my oldest brother died unexpectedly at age 57,
while on his road to a full recovery
from reactivation of latent tuberculosis,
which he likely contracted in Vietnam.
These darkest moments reinforced my conviction
that medicine was my true calling.
I attended medical school in Yakima,
stayed there to train at a community-based family medicine residency program,
and after finishing, moved to Olympia
to start my own solo private Direct Primary Care practice,
from scratch,
without family in the area other my my husband,
and my best friend from med school, Dr. Elia Cole,
who happened to land in Olympia at the same time.
In January 2022, I held my clinic’s open house
with zero patients.
But I built it, one patient at a time, all word of mouth.
Two years later, I paid off my med school private loans,
and my practice has been waitlisted since March.
And through it all--
since high school, through every career turn,
and every new community--
I’ve always made time to volunteer.
My mother used to tell us,
“If you have the skills and the knowledge to help others,
then thank God that you’re able to use them.”
Volunteerism, at its core, is an act of gratitude.
When we give our time, our skills, or our resources,
we acknowledge that we’ve been given something ourselves,
and we choose to pay it forward.
At the Olympia Free Clinic,
we serve those who fall through the cracks,
the uninsured, the underinsured,
the recently laid off,
the newcomers to our community who don’t yet know where to turn,
people who are working hard,
caring for loved ones,
trying to make ends meet,
but can’t afford the care they need.
We offer them dignity, compassion, and competent care,
without judgment,
without bureaucracy,
and without charge.
We don’t ask for an insurance card.
We ask, “How can we help?”
Every time I volunteer, I’m reminded of that benevolent family doc in Oklahoma City,
of my parents’ courage,
and of how much one act of kindness can change the trajectory of someone’s life.
And now, as we look ahead, the stakes are even higher.
In the coming year and beyond, tens – even hundreds –
of thousands of Washingtonians
may lose access to healthcare due to cuts in Medicaid,
ACA subsidies,
and other safety-net programs.
The need for our clinic’s services will grow dramatically.
But here's the good news:
We already have the space,
the structure,
the partnerships.
We already have the heart and the will.
We need more hands and more resources.
So this morning, as we enjoy our breakfast and fellowship,
I want to leave you with a simple but important ask.
If you can, volunteer your time.
You can help with so many supportive functions, not just clinical care.
If you can, donate.
Every dollar directly funds essential meds, supplies,
and the infrastructure that keeps our clinic running.
Whatever you can give--
time, money, or advocacy--
it matters.
It truly changes lives.
When I look out at this room this morning,
I see people who care,
people who believe, as I do,
that every person deserves dignity, compassion, and access to care.
Because you never know someone’s story.
You never know what hardships they’ve faced,
or what potential lies within them.
The challenges ahead will be great,
but together, we can meet them.
We can make our community stronger.
We can give hope where it’s needed most.
And we can ensure that the Olympia Free Clinic
continues to stand as a beacon of hope and humanism in healthcare.
Thank you for your continued support.
~~~
I hope this reminds you that healing begins with listening, and that community truly saves lives.
❤️ Learn more:
https://www.EssentialDPC.com
https://www.theolympiafreeclinic.org/
#TheOlympiaFreeClinic #TOFC #StoriesOfHope #HumanismInMedicine #CommunityCare #Volunteerism #Unisured #Underinsured #DirectPrimaryCare #OlympiaWA
Posts
