Before I began working with veterans on these expeditions, I was, like many physicians, focused mostly on the physical aspects of healing.  But the mountains have a way of stripping away the superficial and revealing the raw core of what it means to be human, to suffer, and to find the will to take just one more step when you think that you can’t anymore.
 

On Mount Vinson, for example, enduring temperatures of as low -60°C with the wind chill factor,  you quickly realize that access to the most advanced medical equipment is useless.  The ability to adapt, improvise, and maintain morale becomes far more critical.  I learned to trust my instincts, to rely on the strength and resilience of the human spirit, and to appreciate the vital role of human connection in the face of adversity.
 

One particular incident stands out to me from Vinson.  We had a 250-pound soldier herniate a disc in his back when we got to high camp.  His leg kept collapsing as his quadriceps no longer was receiving sufficient neural input. Evacuating him down the mountain was one of the most physically demanding tasks of my life, especially when a foot of fresh snow had just fallen overnight, which rarely happens in Antarctica, and the evacuation sled, designed with a braking system made to work over ice, rendered it practically immobile.  That experience and the vulnerability  it brought out in all of us in those Antarctic mountains, very far away from ANY help, made me realize that the strength in each of us is much more than we realize and as a TEAM we can achieve almost anything.
 

These lessons have had a profound impact on my clinical practice.  When a patient comes to me struggling with chronic pain, I see more than just a physical ailment.  I see a whole person, with their own unique history, experiences, and challenges.  I know that healing is not just about addressing the physical symptoms; it's about empowering the individual to tap into their own inner resilience and find their own path forward.  I firmly believe that everyone has an “INNER HEALER” and that the disconnection from this part of ourselves is what often keeps us stuck.
 

I often share my expedition stories with patients, not to boast, but to inspire hope.  I want them to understand that even in the most extreme circumstances, it's possible to find strength, purpose, and even joy.  This is particularly familiar to veteran patients as expeditions are somewhat of a metaphor for deployments.  The mountains have taught me that "We've got this" isn't just a slogan; it's a state of mind.  If we can face the challenges of the Himalaya’s or Antarctica, we can certainly find a way to navigate the challenges of everyday life.

 

The greatest gift these expeditions have given me is a profound sense of gratitude and a deep appreciation for the simple things in life – a warm bed, a hot meal, a roof over our heads.  These are things we often take for granted, but they are luxuries to those who have faced the harsh realities of war or the unforgiving wilderness.  I bring this perspective to my practice every day, reminding myself and my patients that even in the darkest of times, there is always something to be grateful for.  And with gratitude, we have the strength to heal.