The Story Behind Idaho Outreach Medicine

I grew up in a small town.

And when I say small, I mean small.

The population was 179. Not 179 thousand, just 179.

Midvale, Idaho is a place of wide open space, quiet streets, and the kind of community where you know every face… because there aren’t many you don’t.

A Childhood Shaped by Community

Many of my friends lived out in the country, on ranches or farms, while I lived in town. The people who lived in town were often elderly. Many had sold their land and moved closer to what little “downtown” we had. Many were widowed. Many were alone.

My parents were hardworking, and one of the gifts of living in a town that small was freedom. I could wander. And I did.

I spent my days visiting my elderly friends. My mom used to joke that most of my friends were on Social Security—and she wasn’t wrong.

The Lessons No Classroom Could Teach

What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was being shaped in ways no classroom could offer.

I watched bodies change. I watched strength fade. I noticed when someone stopped walking as well, or seemed more tired, or didn’t come to the door anymore. I would go home and tell my mom my observations—little things that didn’t seem important to me then, but absolutely were.

My Mother, the Nurse Everyone Needed

My mom was a nurse, and in a small town, that meant something different. She was practically the town doctor. When I shared concerns, she would go visit. Then she would make calls—to family members, to neighbors, to anyone who needed to know.

Often, family would come and take their loved one to appointments 30 miles away. Sometimes farther.

Life, Loss, and the Gift of Perspective

Sometimes my friends were gone for a long time.

Sometimes the next time I saw them… it was at their funeral.

I wasn’t afraid of death.

My friends prepared me for it.

They talked openly about meeting Jesus. About being reunited with spouses they had lost years earlier. About no longer being in pain. About bodies that would work again.

But before any of that, they taught me how to live.

Kitchens That Became Classrooms

They reminisced about their younger years. They taught me to crochet, knit, quilt, and can food. They showed me how to cook and bake. They told stories about doctors who used to visit on horseback.

Those kitchens became classrooms. Those rocking chairs became places of wisdom. Those conversations became the foundation of who I am.

Even then, I knew I wanted a life built on relationships like that.

I just didn’t know how.

The Moment It All Came Together

Years later, after completing my advanced practice nursing license, something became very clear: I didn’t want to work inside a large organization. I didn’t want rushed visits. I didn’t want medicine that missed the story.

And I saw the need—clearly—for someone willing to do house calls.

That was the moment it all came together.

Care Where Life Actually Happens

I realized I could go back to my childhood in the best possible way. I could spend unrushed, meaningful time with patients. I could sit where life actually happens. I could provide care that was personal, thoughtful, and grounded in dignity.

Helping People Stay Well at Home

What those early years also taught me is the power of staying well.

Most of my work today is not hospice care. It is helping people remain healthy, independent, and comfortable in their own homes for as long as possible. It’s managing chronic conditions before they become crises, catching small changes early, and supporting people through everyday healthcare decisions that keep them living full lives. Prevention, consistency, and time matter. And home is often the best place to start.

Why Outreach Is More Than a Name

That is why outreach is more than a name.

It means going to people—not waiting for them to come to you.
It means listening first.
It means kitchens, not clinics.
It means relationships before checklists.

Healthcare Should Feel Human Again

Idaho Outreach Medicine exists because I believe healthcare should feel human again—care that helps people live well, stay engaged, and feel supported at every stage of life.

And that belief has guided every mile driven, every door knocked on, and every patient I’ve had the honor of caring for.

- Dori Healey