Who Tells Her Story: Love & Legacy

How many software companies originate from a love story? PATHS did.

For me, our work and mission supersedes all the business jargon and buzzwords of the day. While everything from product-market fit to KPI’s are important, it’s not our “why”. Our “why” “ is a promise–a vow to carry forward the legacy of the person who made me believe that healthcare could be both precise AND deeply compassionate.

My wife, the late oncologist Dr. Linda Farmer.

She was 5’1”, 112 pounds, and an absolute force of nature. A relentless educator. She started every day at 3:45 a.m. so she could pour over her charts, review radiology scans herself, and walk into her first appointment fully prepared. She gave every single patient her full undivided attention, even if that meant always being 2 hours behind schedule (and her patients didn’t mind).

She didn’t let a single stone go unturned. She had a way of removing fear and doubt for her patients. That’s what great medicine is, and what great doctors can do, and that’s what we’re trying to replicate through PATHS—but in a way that reduces energy and time doctors spend on the logistical clumsiness of the day when it comes to patient navigation.

A Monument and a Mission

Two years after my wife passed, I found myself standing at the base of the Taj Mahal. I had promised myself that if my book, Losing Wonder Woman, hit the bestseller list, I’d travel to India to see the greatest manifestation of  love the world has ever seen. This physical ode to love has given me so much hope to create great things to push our mission forward.

Commissioned in 1631 by Emperor Shah Jahan after the death of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, the Taj Mahal took 22 years and more than 20,000 artisans to complete. Every inch, its symmetry, its intricate detail, its overwhelming presence, was crafted to honor her memory. It is grief turned into architecture. Devotion made permanent.

During my visit, a local guide walked me through the ruins of Shah Jahan’s palace, through the courtyard, living quarters, and where visiting dignitaries would've been welcomed. In the bedroom, I noticed a window. Through it, a clear view of the Taj Mahal. I wondered if Shah Jahan had chosen the site for this very reason, so he could see her legacy being built every morning from the intimate space of their bedroom where no doubt he held many cherished but painful memories.

I stood there and imagined him looking out that window during the long years of construction and in the years that followed. Remembering her. Talking to her. Staying rooted in his purpose and in her memory. He intentionally built something that would outlive him, a love story etched in marble, now one of the eight wonders of the world.

I suggest Linda and I share a love story that rivals this one. And in her honor, we’re building something just as enduring, with the added power to save lives. That was her life’s calling, after all–just like every oncologist before and after her.

Meeting Linda

We met walking dogs. Her golden retriever was dragging her down a hill. I offered to help. She didn’t need it.

Linda was a storm with skin. She was tough, brilliant, impossible to outwit. Not easily impressed. Not easily wooed. So I married her–so I could spend the rest of my life trying.

Our first date was a Broadway show (Rent). Later, we saw Hamilton together. In her final weeks fighting stomach cancer, when she was home on hospice, we played and I sang the last song to Linda, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”. More than once. Many more. We didn’t avoid the hard conversations about what was next. We welcomed them. She repeatedly rolled her eyes at the gesture. I mused with delight every time. It was always an honor to serve her.

From Grief to Breakthrough

I’m writing this blog now because of a breakthrough we had over a fifteen minute period in a code development meeting, and how my thoughts were flooded by my time spent with Shah Jahan a year before, walking in his shoes trying to build the impossible with the tools and resources available to him in the day. In the meeting with our engineering team,we’d been exploring how to incorporate AI into PATHS to help clinicians to create care journeys without starting from scratch every time, without having tons of manual work. The goal was to make it easier for providers to give patients everything they need–educational videos, podcasts, zoom sessions for support, nutrition tips, etc.–without spending so much time building manually.

Our head engineer looked at me and said something profound that caught my attention. In my mind I heard, “Hey Kermit, I think I cracked it.”

He showed me a demo. Using nothing but a single prompt, he’d generated an entire personalized Path. Videos. Documents. Quizzes. A complete, seamless experience for the patient.

It’s safe to say I cried… thankful for the team building something so beautiful and elegant.

In that moment, I saw it clearly: the thing we’ve been trying to build - the very thing Dr. Farmer had always fought for–clarity, education, and compassionate care. The same relief and reassurance she gave her patients, now made scalable and accessible for so many more.

I kept thinking, “It’s not going to take 22 years to tell her story and build something of substantial importance.” I get to continue her legacy in a powerful way. Tears, happy tears, in my eyes all the time.

Building Something That Lasts

Startups are messy. You’re in the trenches. You make bets without knowing if they’ll pay off. The slog of every day is grueling and can numb your senses.  When guided by purpose rather than money, you do the hard things the right way.You see the end result, that is so clear but not yet tangible for the world to see yet is worth it.

Sometimes it feels like a construction site–sloppy, messy, and somehow still beautiful. But then a provider shares how your product is helping. A patient leaves heartfelt feedback. A caregiver expresses relief in the midst of a difficult journey. And in those moments, you see the mission come to life–you see the origin story unfolding. You remember why you started. And why you keep going.

Linda had a waitlist because her patients knew they’d get the best care. Not just medically, but emotionally. She built trust through preparation, detail, and presence.

We’re honoring that spirit in every corner of PATHS. In the precision of the product. In the depth of the content. In the simplicity of delivery.

And now, with AI, we’re closer than ever to realizing a product that will outlive the creator as intended, a tool that gives patients everything their doctor or care team knows, even when they’re at home, sitting on the couch.

Her Light is my North Star

Linda still lights my world. I live for her. She drives me. It’s my calling to serve her as she served her patients.

Today I have my own quintessential window in Shah Jahan’s palace that is overlooking the construction site from sunsets to sunrises. I start my days looking out this window each morning. I think about what he built, grounded in grief, driven by love.I feel tied to him in more than one way. We both share an immense project scope that is both costly and daunting. I’m no king with 20,000 workers at my disposal by way of decree to follow orders. No unlimited budget to build a manifestation of love to share with the world. However, I do have time. A few dollars remaining. A reason to get out of bed every morning. I am so thankful for this.

When the day is hard. When decisions weigh heavy. I remember who I’m doing this for.

PATHS is my Taj Mahal. But instead of marble, it’s built in code and care plans, architected in the belief that putting the patient first in healthcare, with exemplary onboarding and education, creates a patient experience that all in medicine needs and quite frankly deserve. Medical teams today work too hard to meet patient needs. Fragmented services confuse the patient and their journey. We can do better. I want to be a part of that story.

Dr. Linda Farmer proved to the world, with empirical evidence, proper patient guidance and navigation made all the difference in the patient’s lives and the medical team’s quality of life. Proper navigation leads to fewer complications and lower costs in healthcare. This mission, though ambitious, is worth the effort. I live to tell her story, to carry her to touch, to make the most of my time here on earth.

Again, it might take 22 years to build and scale Dr. Farmer’s empathy and compassion with efficiency but it will be worth it.