As I started gathering materials for my own projects, trouble was brewing in our other businesses. Medicare changed some key rules, and we had to adapt fast. This meant legal bills piled up, staff roles shifted, and in the end, we had to shut down one of our programs because the new regulations made it financially unsustainable.
Chapter 2 Lesson: Always plan for multiple streams of income in your business. You never know when one will dry up unexpectedly.
We all agreed to double down on our Functional Medicine model. We brought in more staff, expanded inventory, opened new insurance policies where possible, and developed protocols. I dove deep into studying nutraceuticals and how they affect different parts of the body. Dr. Hall was the go-to for understanding the endocrine and musculoskeletal systems, especially inflammation.
When I wasn’t managing staff, learning aromatherapy, or being a mom, my job was to find nutraceuticals that worked on the pathways Dr. Hall described. I became fascinated by the combination of amino acids and plant medicine. What really hooked me was seeing patients’ bloodwork improve and watching them feel better. I started connecting what I learned in my research to my aromatic and herbal studies—exploring how different plant compounds might work together, and what happened if you broke them apart and recombined them in new ways. Was anyone actually studying this? I wasn’t sure, but it kept me thinking.
I talked to a lot of nutraceutical sales reps about essential oils. Most of them dismissed it as “quackery” or “weed science.” I didn’t argue—I was still young and new to the field, and they were the experts. But after one heated conversation, Dr. Hall told me, “You’re not wrong. You’re just ahead of natural medicine. Keep going.” That encouragement meant everything.
So I kept going. I started writing formulas, filling Erin Condren journals like J.K. Rowling. My mind was racing with ideas about how these molecules interacted, both with each other and in the body. The more I read, the more I filled up notebooks—and the more confused I felt, or so I thought. I’d go into Dr. Hall’s office and start spouting theories, always with a “maybe” at the end.
When I launched the Aromatherapy Program in our office, safety was my top priority. I gave talks about essential oil safety as MLM products flooded the area. I’d like to think my team and I prevented some mistakes, but you never hear about the ones that didn’t happen—just the disasters.
Back then, dinner conversations revolved around the business and the kids’ school. When you’re married to your business partner, it’s easy to fall into that routine: he’d talk about patients and the front office, I’d talk about the back. That was our normal.
One day, Chris called me into an exam room to look at a patient’s toenail fungus. Dr. Hall looked at Chris like, “What do you expect me to do?” Chris turned to me and asked, “Can you do anything with your stuff?” I shrugged, “Maybe?” The patient insisted I try. How much would it cost? I honestly had no idea.
Chapter 2 Lesson: When building your inventory, keep a mental note of what things cost. I always had oils sorted in my head as “inexpensive,” “mid-range,” or “high.” Even if the numbers weren’t exact, it helped me cover costs and make a profit—and made pricing quick and intuitive.
Since I’d never done this before, I didn’t set a price. I said I’d make a small sample in a few days—no guarantees, just that it would be safe. It might work, it might not, but the patient wouldn’t lose anything by trying.
So, I made an “anti-fungal” spray. Chris gave it to the patient, and life moved on. Two weeks later, late in the day, Chris called me. “What the bleep did you do?” I checked my email, confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. He replied, “You got rid of the toe fungus.” I was stunned. “That’s great!” I said. He told me, “This patient has tried every OTC and prescription—nothing worked. Yours did. What did you do?”
My answer: “Plant science.”
Suddenly, I became a hot commodity in the practice. Those sprays flew out the door thanks to local word of mouth. I kept careful notes but struggled with how to chart these remedies. I worked with LabAroma to develop a SOAP note system and convinced our complementary medicine EMR to add oils and “Other therapies” to their inventory, so my formulas became part of the permanent record. Eventually, my notebook recipes looked like real medical prescriptions in the EMR.
Then came the requests: “Can I have two? I want to send one to a friend.” Now I was in a gray legal area—these remedies were dispensed under a doctor’s direction, not as retail products. I knew it was fine for a while, but it raised big questions. What could I actually do?
Back to the attorneys. At that point, I had two healthcare lawyers, one specializing in FDA matters. I asked him, and he said, “Meredith, you can’t do anything unless you make it a drug. You could go to jail.” Not exactly comforting.
I pushed back, pointing out the claims made by nutraceuticals. That’s when I realized how much language matters. I decided to call my anti-fungal spray “Foot Defense” and go the “aromatic cosmetic” route. My attorney still wasn’t thrilled, but being in a medical practice gave me layers of protection—the doctors had my back.
Around this time, Florida was in the grip of an opioid crisis. New laws cracked down on prescriptions, leaving many patients in pain with few options. Chris came to me and said, “We have to do something. Can you make a pain cream?” I said, “Maybe. I’ll try.”
I spent five weeks researching, filling notebooks, poring over books, websites, studies, and Dr. Hall’s notes. Could I create a plant-based COX-2 inhibitor? Chris and Dr. Hall gave me the green light.
The first batch was messy—four jars of something that looked like frosting. We put them in exam rooms. Within three weeks, Chris was asking for more, patients wanted samples to take home, and one man even asked if I could make him a gallon.
Things escalated quickly. I moved my “plant medicine” lab into the empty PT room. The State inspected and approved it. I developed SOPs, GMP processes, tracked lot numbers and material quality, made spreadsheets and labels. I was officially manufacturing—this wasn’t part of the medical practice anymore. It was the start of a new business. Faeve Plant Therapies (FPT) wasn’t just a corporate entity anymore. It was born.
The third child of my life.
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