One of the things I loved most after finishing residency was sharing interesting cases online.

Back then, I was working full-time as a clinical pathologist and had started posting cases in a little Facebook group that eventually became the Veterinary Cytology Coffeehouse.

At first, it was just fun. I loved teaching and I loved seeing what questions people had.

But as the group grew, I started noticing something.

No matter where people practiced or how long they'd been out of school, they kept asking the same questions.

"What am I looking at?"

"How do you know that?"

"Why does that matter?"

And what struck me most wasn't that people didn't know the answer.

It was how many veterinarians quietly assumed that struggling with cytology meant they just weren't very good at it.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, "Of course you're confused. This stuff is hard."

Not because veterinarians aren't smart.

Not because they don't care.

But because nobody had ever shown them a simple way to think about it.

That lit a fire in me.

I could see exactly where people were getting stuck. I could see the patterns. I could see what they actually needed to understand—and just as importantly, what they didn't need to spend mental energy worrying about.

So I started teaching.

Case by case.

Question by question.

Lecture by lecture.

Eventually, those conversations turned into courses.

And then in 2020, in the middle of a pandemic with a three-year-old, another baby on the way, and a move back home to Tennessee ahead of us, I found myself facing a decision.

Keep doing this on the side, or go all in.

It was scary.

But I never seriously considered walking away.

By then, I knew too many veterinarians who wanted to understand cytology and just needed someone to explain it in a way that made sense.

So I took the leap.

And that's still the mission today.

To help veterinarians finally understand cytology.

Not by making it more complicated.

But by making complex things make sense.