Our Verified Medical Experts — page 31

I am that girl doc next door you probly didn't expect to be an infertility specialist — but here I am, and I honestly love what I do (even on the messier days). Helping people navigate the emotional chaos, endless tests, and let’s be real — the silent heartbreak of infertility, is kinda what I’ve built my life around. My focus? Fertility. Reproductive health. Hormonal imbalances. PCOS. Unexplained infertility. Male factor issues too, which are often overlooked tbh. I’ve seen all shades of struggle, and no, I don’t judge. Never have. Never will. Whether you're just starting out, tried 5 rounds of IVF already, or just want to *finally* understand your own cycle, you're safe with me. I don’t talk down to patients or drown you in jargon — I explain things straight, like I’d want someone to explain them to my own sister. I believe the science *and* the soul both matter. There’s a lab side to this journey — AMH levels, follicle scans, luteal phase deficiencies — but there’s also the human side, like why no one told you how lonely this would feel or how much waiting you’d have to do. We talk about all of that here. The numbers, but also the feelings. Sometimes it's not a diagnosis that needs fixing first — it's the weight of expectations. I’m not the kind of doctor who rushes. I sit with my patients, sometimes longer than I should. Listen. Sometimes you just need space to breathe, vent or ask that “silly” question you’ve googled 4 times already. (ps: it's never silly) If you're looking for someone hyper polished or strictly textbook, that’s not quite me. I’m serious about medicine, but not too serious to be real with you. My clinic's got charts on the walls but also tissues and tea for when days are hard. Sometimes we celebrate follicle growth. Sometimes we grieve losses. And in all of it, I’m right there. This isn’t just my profession, it’s very much my purpose. You deserve to feel seen in your fertility story, not just scanned and scheduled. And if I can help even one person feel a little more hopeful, a bit less broken — well, then that’s a good day. Let’s figure it out. Together. Even if it's a little messy.

I am an oncologist who’s seen how a single diagnosis can flip life upside down — not just for the patient but for everyone around them. Cancer isn’t just a medical condition to me, it’s a deeply personal journey. I try not to treat just the disease — I treat the person carrying it. Whether it’s breast, lung, colon, blood-related or less common types, I’ve worked across many cancer types and no two cases ever feel the same. My approach? I focus on advanced cancer treatment protocols, backed by solid science but delivered in a way that’s still, I dunno, human. Immunotherapy, chemotherapy cycles, radiation planning, staging and biomarkers — yes, all of that matters. But also, do they understand what we’re doing today? Are they sleeping okay?? Did anyone explain that test clearly last time? These small things start adding up fast. I try to make sure that both patient and family aren't just informed but supported. There’s always so much medical lingo flying around, it’s easy to feel lost. And when the scan results don’t come back as hoped, it gets heavier. I try to be honest without being cold, optimistic without being fake. That balance is tricky. Some days, it still rattles me. Supportive care, pain management, nutritional guidance — these aren’t “extras” in my practice, they’re part of treatment. Whether someone’s just been diagnosed or they're going through their 3rd line of treatment, I want them to feel like they aren’t going thru this alone. Also, not everything is textbook. Some cases take weird turns. Responses vary. Emotions show up in unexpected ways. I think being open to all that — the unpredictablility — helps me stay grounded. You can't promise outcomes, but you can promise presence. At the end, I want people to remember that yes, we fought it together. Carefully, clearly and with compassion. Not as a doctor standing apart, but walking right beside.

I am currently working with Aarvy Healthcare in Sector 90 and have been here for about 1.5 years now — doesn’t sound like a lot, but honestly it’s been full of learning curves, challenges, and weirdly satisfying moments too. This place gave me the kind of real-time exposure no textbook really preps you for. From managing high patient flow days to helping families understand what’s *actually* going on with their loved ones — it’s made me sharper, faster and also way more patient. My daily work involves close coordination with seniors, nurses, and support staff — figuring out diagnostics, doing rounds, following up lab trends, adjusting meds and yeah sometimes even chasing reports that didn’t upload right! I’ve been involved in OPD and IPD settings both, and honestly that mix keeps you grounded. You see the full cycle — from first consult to discharge (or in some cases, longer stays that stay with you emotionally for a while.) It’s not just about giving the right drug or ordering one more scan. Sometimes it’s sitting with someone who’s scared out of their mind and just breaking down their report in plain language. Aarvy’s setup allowed me to do that more — because you’re not just another number here. I’ve worked on a mix of cases — fever panels to post-op care, pregnancy monitoring to cancer symptom support — which helped me slowly find my rhythm. Still figuring a lot out, tbh. But I know one thing: I show up, I care, and I don’t clock out mentally the minute my shift ends. That part matters. You can’t fake that. This phase of work has been real, messy, humbling and valuable — all at once.

I am a Senior Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon with around 14 years in the game — long enough to see how bones break, heal, re-break sometimes, and what it really takes to put people back on their feet (and keep them there). My core areas are joint replacement surgeries — both primary and revision — and yeah, revision work can be real tricky, especially when previous implants have failed or bone loss complicates things. But that’s kinda where my brain kicks in hardest. I work a lot with sports injuries too. Ligament tears, meniscus issues, shoulder dislocations — young athletes with high expectations and limited patience make it challenging but also rewarding. You don’t just treat the injury; you treat their fear of missing out, their frustration, their urge to return too soon. Sometimes managing the mindset is half the treatment plan. Fracture management’s another part of my day-to-day, and not just simple wrist or ankle fractures. I’ve dealt with complex trauma cases — polytrauma, open fractures, those unpredictable ER moments where you don’t know what’s coming until you're knee-deep in a case. I try to be quick but methodical. Get stabilization first, then rebuild, step by step. It’s not always clean work, but it’s real. Each patient walks in with pain, but they also carry stories — of old injuries ignored, surgeries that didn’t quite work, fears of not walking right again. And as much as I operate, I also listen. Or I try to. Not every decision is surgical. Some need rehab. Some just need time. My job isn’t just to cut and fix. It’s to know *when* to cut and *when not to*. Ortho isn’t just bone and metal, at least not to me. It’s restoring movement, confidence, and a bit of dignity that pain usually takes away quietly. That’s what I’m really here for.

I am working in Paediatrics and Neonatology for the last 3 years — and honestly, every single day’s different. Some days I’m managing a full-blown asthma flare in a hyperactive 5-year-old who still refuses to sit still for a neb, and on others, I’m watching a preemie baby slowly gain weight gram by gram in the NICU. Both sides of this field are intense, but in very different ways. In neonatology, the smallest things matter — literally. I deal with newborns needing respiratory support, feeding assistance, thermoregulation issues, infections — the whole bundle. You can’t afford to miss tiny changes. One bad ABG, or a slightly off feeding pattern, and it shifts everything. I’ve learnt to pick up on those silent alarms, the kind you only get better at spotting with hands-on NICU time. On the paediatrics side, I see the wide range — fevers that won’t go down, delayed milestones, weird rashes parents googled 3 wrong things about, nutrition issues, coughs that sound scarier than they are. But also the regular checkups, vaccinations, and anxious first-time parents asking if their baby’s crying “too much or too little??” I try to balance clinical clarity with a little calm — for both the kid and the parent. What I love about this field is that you treat growing bodies — which means the goal isn’t just to “fix” a problem but to help the child reach their healthiest version long-term. It’s not always linear, and sometimes there’s setbacks. But when that NICU baby goes home without a tube, or the toddler you’ve seen for a year finally speaks their first sentence, that’s the stuff that stays with you. I work closely with nurses, nutritionists, and sometimes speech or occupational therapists too — especially in complex or high-risk cases. It’s always a team effort. But I stay closely involved, I don’t check out once the prescription’s written. Kids deserve continuity. Parents need that too. Three years in, and there’s still more to learn — but I’m here, showing up, one small patient at a time.

I am working as a Dental Surgeon at AIAD, Area Dental Hospital in Hyderabad right now, and before that I spent time in different clinics where I got about 2 years of clinical exposure. Dentistry for me isn’t just drilling and filling, it’s more about fixing smiles, managing pain that keeps ppl awake at night, and helping someone eat again without wincing. From routine cleanings to root canals, extractions to prosthetic work, I’ve pretty much dealt with the usual and the not-so-usual that walks into OPD. Alongside dentistry I trained and practice as a Clinical Cosmetologist with around 1.5 yrs of hands-on clinic work. That opened up a whole new set of cases for me — skin procedures, acne management, pigmentation, hair fall treatments. It’s different from dental, yeah, but also overlaps in ways you don’t think of until you’re in the chair explaining why oral health and skin sometimes go hand-in-hand. Most of my days are a mix — one patient walks in with a fractured tooth after a cricket match, the next one is anxious about acne scars before her wedding. And honestly I like that balance. It keeps me from going numb with repetition. I deal with dental, skin and hair related concerns, and I try to approach each with clarity — evidence-based treatment, but explained in a way that makes sense to patients. Cosmetic work especially needs trust. People come in with high expectations and sometimes a lot of doubts. I try not to push quick fixes. Instead, I talk about gradual improvement, safer choices, and realistic outcomes. Same with dental care — it’s not about making it look good for a week, it’s about making sure the results last. My focus, whether with teeth, skin or hair, is not to overpromise but to support. Patients should feel guided, not pressured. That’s what I carry from one clinic to another, and even now at AIAD — that small reminder that behind every case is a human who just wants to feel better in their own body.

I am Dr. Gurrala Dharani, a licensed Physiotherapist registered with the Andhra Pradesh Physiotherapy Council. I hold a Bachelor of Physiotherapy degree and for the last 2 years I’ve been working with patients in both hospital wards and smaller clinic setups — each place taught me something different. Right now I practice at Lyfe Fly Clinic, Tirupati, where my focus is on evidence-based physiotherapy treatments that actually fit each person’s condition rather than one-size-fits-all plans. Most of my work is around recovery and rehabilitation. Post-surgical care, sports injuries, spine or joint pain, neurological issues like stroke rehab — I get to see a wide range. Some patients come in barely able to move, others just want to get back to daily routines without pain. My goal is simple: restore movement, reduce discomfort, and improve their quality of life, step by step. I use a mix of manual therapy, electrotherapy, exercise-based rehab and patient education. Sometimes it’s about retraining muscles, sometimes it’s posture correction or teaching breathing techniques. And yes, a big part is explaining why we do what we do — patients heal better when they understand the process. Physiotherapy isn’t only about treating pain after it starts, it’s also preventive. Many people ignore early signs, thinking it will settle. I try to guide them on ergonomics, lifestyle tweaks, stretches that can keep them from coming back with bigger problems later. What keeps me motivated is watching progress — like when a patient who struggled with stairs takes them again without holding the rail, or when someone recovering from surgery finally walks on their own. Those moments remind me why I chose this field. For me, physiotherapy is not just techniques or machines, it’s being present with patients through their ups and setbacks. Healing takes time, but when done right, it changes lives in very real ways.

I am a surgeon with more than 15 years of clinical work behind me, and my main focus is minimally invasive laparoscopic surgery. I work with abdominal and gastrointestinal conditions — gallbladder issues, appendix, hernia, bowel surgeries — all those cases where precision really matters. Laparoscopy is not just about smaller cuts, it’s about giving patients safer procedures, less pain after, quicker recovery and overall better outcomes. That’s the reason I leaned into it early in my career and kept refining it over years. In theatre I pay attention to details, from trocar placement to energy device handling, because small slip can mean big complication. But outside of the OR, I try to balance the surgical expertise with compassion. People come in scared — they hear “surgery” and immediately think of risk. My job is not only to operate but to guide, explain clearly, sometimes repeat the same answer till the anxiety settles. Clinical excellence for me is not a word on a CV, it’s about how patients leave after the treatment. Do they feel safe? Did we reduce their suffering? Did they heal without major setbacks? These are the markers I count. I see surgery as more than cutting and stitching, it’s a way to restore dignity when pain, illness or fear has taken it away. I’ve been trusted with both routine cases and complex ones, including revisions where earlier surgeries failed or complications arose. Each case brings its own lesson — sometimes technical, sometimes human. And even after so many years, I don’t take that trust lightly. Minimally invasive surgery has changed the way we practice medicine, but it only works if we keep patients at the center, not just the technique. For me, every operation is about combining precision with empathy — two sides of the same coin in healing.

I am a pulmonologist with over 3 years of experience working in one of the busiest hospitals in Kerala, where patient flow never really slows down and every case teaches you something new. Passing out from Government Medical College, Trivandrum — one of the most reputed institutes — gave me not just a degree but exposure to complex respiratory conditions that shaped my skills in a big way. My work is centered on diagnosing and treating diseases of the lungs and airways — asthma, COPD, pneumonia, TB, interstitial lung disease, sleep disorders, and post-COVID complications that still keep showing up. In a single day I might be managing a critical ICU case with respiratory failure and then step into OPD to guide someone struggling with chronic cough. The contrast keeps me grounded. Personalised treatment is something I focus on a lot. No two patients present the same way, even with same diagnosis. A smoker with COPD needs a different approach than a young patient with uncontrolled asthma. I try to combine evidence-based protocols with careful adjustments to fit the individual’s needs — medication, lifestyle tweaks, pulmonary rehab, oxygen therapy if required. In the wards and ICU, quick decisions matter — whether to escalate oxygen support, when to intubate, how to balance antibiotics with patient condition. Outside the ICU, it’s about building trust, making patients and families understand what’s happening inside lungs in a way that isn’t overwhelming. Many times I end up spending more time explaining than treating, and honestly that’s just as important. For me pulmonology is not only about treating disease but also improving quality of life. Helping someone breathe easier, sleep through the night without coughing, or simply walk a few steps without stopping — those small improvements are the real milestones in this field. Each patient reminds me why I chose this branch: the breath is life, and being able to protect it is responsibility I don’t take lightly.

I am a young pediatrician who’s been in the field long enough to know that no two kids — or their parents — are ever quite the same. I focus on delivering evidence-based care but with a human side, where parents feel seen, not just prescribed. I stick to strict OPD protocols to make sure each child gets a proper evaluation, from history to follow-up, and I don’t cut corners just because the complaint sounds “common.” One thing I take seriously is antibiotic stewardship — way too many kids are getting unnecessary meds. I always explain *why* I’m not prescribing something, not just why I am. Rational treatment isn’t just safe, it’s respectful. I’d rather spend an extra five minutes talking than rush into writing down antibiotics for every fever or cough. And surprisingly, most parents actually appreciate that. I’m known to be calm and soft-spoken (sometimes too soft, I’ve been told), but I believe that helps in pediatric practice. Kids pick up on energy. So do anxious parents. I try to explain every diagnosis and plan in a way that makes sense — no heavy jargon, no rushing them out the door. Whether it’s simple viral fever, a growth concern, nutritional doubts, or chronic allergies, I make sure the family walks away feeling supported, not confused. I’m still learning — every case, every child teaches you something. But I care deeply, I stay updated, and I work with full attention to detail. Whether it’s managing newborns, routine immunization, or figuring out those tricky “not eating properly” complaints, I give it my 100%. And yes, sometimes that means running late in OPD. But I’m okay with that — because rushing isn’t how trust gets built.