About Me
Your health is my passion
My journey into Chinese medicine began unexpectedly in 2009, during the height of the US housing market crash. My parents had just opened a small restaurant, and like many small business owners, they poured everything into making it work—working 13-hour days, seven days a week. I was there to help, and the stress took a toll on all of us.
By mid-2010, I had gone from 186 pounds to 225 pounds—the heaviest I’d ever been. I was depressed, struggling with thoughts I’d rather not revisit, and catching what seemed like a cold every single week. I popped cold medicine like candy. My dad, worried about what all those pills were doing to my liver and kidneys, suggested I try something different: the herbs that had been sitting around our house.
That suggestion changed everything.
The herbs did something completely unexpected. Unlike the cold medicine that always left me feeling foggy, the herbs actually gave me energy back. They restored my appetite. And over time, my cold symptoms became less frequent. With the restaurant struggling and time on my hands, I started researching Chinese medicine online—and discovered something I never knew existed: acupuncture schools.
I had always assumed that learning Chinese medicine meant going to a temple, becoming a monk, or finding an old master to apprentice under for years. The idea that I could study it in my own backyard was revelatory. That afternoon, I told my dad I wanted to go back to school.
The Path to Five Branches
Getting there took time. I needed an associate degree first, which took a year and a half. Then came the search for the right school. Most programs I contacted sent back form letters asking me to call them for more information—which felt ironic, since I’d asked them to send me information in the first place.
Two schools stood out. One sent a beautiful color magazine from Los Angeles. The other, Five Branches University, sent a black-and-white packet with a Taoist diagram on the cover and detailed information about their program, faculty, and specialties. Their application asked one question: “Why did you choose this profession?”
When I saw that question, I knew. This was the school for me. I never applied anywhere else.
The Puzzle Pieces
I moved to California in August 2012. At 26, I was one of the younger students in my class. My classmates came from all walks of life—physical therapists, accountants, psychology majors, registered nurses. We were all looking for a fresh start.
The first year was overwhelming. TCM foundation, herbology, channel theory, point location, anatomy, Pinyin—each class was like opening a new puzzle box and examining the pieces without knowing what the final picture looked like. I had a small advantage: I could read and speak Chinese, so while taking classes in English, I’d supplement them by reading Chinese medicine books in their original language.
But even with that advantage, I was confused. The question that had bothered me since starting school kept nagging: When we see patients, how can we be certain they’re getting the relief they seek? That frustration followed me through my early years of training.
Finding My Teachers
Everything shifted when I met Dr. Pan. Her approach to pulse diagnosis was unlike anything I’d seen—delicate, detailed, time-consuming. While most teachers prescribed based on symptoms, Dr. Pan used classical formulas from the Shang Han Lun and Jin Gui Yao Lue, often with small doses of just a few herbs. Yet her treatments were remarkably powerful. When I got sick, one bag of her herbs would set me right, while other teachers’ prescriptions left me feeling little different after a full week.
I started attending her Tuesday night intern classes, staying late, asking questions. Eventually she noticed and gave me the best study advice I’d ever received: “Remember herbs by their categories. Within each category, the properties are mostly the same—just remember what makes each one stand out.” I followed her for three years, though much of what she did remained mystifying until later.
Then, in my final semester, Dr. Pan introduced me to Dr. Liou. He had recently moved from Taiwan, where he and Dr. Pan had been colleagues at a TCM hospital. Dr. Liou taught a small study group at his home that summer, and suddenly, all the acupuncture pieces started fitting together.
Dr. Liou emphasized channel pathways, point indications, and needle techniques—but he also simplified things for beginners. Instead of memorizing 28 classical pulses, he taught us to distinguish forceful from deep. For tongue diagnosis, we focused on coating and body color first, adding complexity only after mastering the basics. Most importantly, he showed us a systematic approach: use the pulse as immediate feedback, so you can troubleshoot and improve your treatments with every patient.
The Breakthrough
That last semester, I organized a petition to get Dr. Liou’s intern round class added to the schedule. Four classmates joined me. In that class, Dr. Liou did the diagnoses, and we gave the treatments. I watched him work—how he felt the pulse, selected points, adjusted based on feedback. And because I was needling, I could ask exactly how to locate each point more precisely.
That semester flew by. But I can honestly say I learned more about acupuncture—and about how quickly the body can recover with correct treatment—in those few months than in all my previous years of school.
One afternoon, after I’d already graduated and was waiting for my board exam results, I was translating for Dr. Liou’s class. A second-year student named Bob (not his real name) came in excited to show off a device he’d invented: a wooden plank with a knob that massaged Du 1, the point at the tip of the coccyx, which he’d learned could prevent hemorrhoids from sitting too long. He was convinced his classmates would love it.
Dr. Liou and I listened patiently, I then asked quietly, “Would Du 20 accomplish the same thing more comfortably?” Du 20 is on top of the head—same channel, same general function, but with stronger qi-lifting properties and certainly more comfortable and easier to massage or apply pressure on.
Then Dr. Liou stood up, took my hand, shook it firmly, and said, “Congratulations. You have become an acupuncturist.”
What I Practice Today
The truth is, most products on the market are made by people like Bob—well-intentioned but missing the bigger picture. Hemorrhoids can stem from many causes: heat or cold, excess or deficiency. More than one channel crosses the anus area; the closest is actually the urinary bladder channel, whose luo channel enters directly. That’s why clinically, we use bladder channel points to treat hemorrhoids.
This is what I try to bring to my practice every day: not just treating the symptom, but understanding the channel, the constitution, the whole person. I spend about 45 minutes with each patient—sometimes still not enough—because diagnosis requires gathering information from pulse, tongue, inquiry, observation. And treatment requires precision: selecting points below the knee and elbow that specifically address the organs involved, using the pulse to confirm each step.
Over the years, I’ve treated patients with conditions ranging from shoulder pain and frozen shoulders to stroke recovery and post-cancer . I’ve learned to recognize when a patient needs a hospital instead of needles—like the man with leg weakness who turned out to have an ischemic stroke, or the elderly woman with back pain who had a broken rib and COVID. Those moments, and the Western medicine training that prepared me for them, have saved lives.
If you’d like to schedule an appointment or learn more about how Chinese medicine might help you, please reach out. I’d be honored to be part of your journey.
