The Tools We Choose: Why We Picked Telehealth & What It Cost

“The earth does not need new continents, but new men.”
— Jules Verne, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

It’s easy to believe that the next great fix in healthcare will come from a new technology. A better portal, a smarter app, a faster algorithm. But what if the real work isn’t in building new tools—it's in becoming the kind of people who use them well?

That idea has followed us at Storyline. Especially as we’ve made decisions about what kind of care to offer, and how to deliver it.

A Warning from Captain Nemo

Later in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Captain Nemo marvels at the power of electricity. But he’s not naïve. He says,

“It is a wonderful thing… but is it not a terrible weapon in the hands of those who know not how to use it?”

It’s a warning that feels startlingly relevant today. The tools may have changed, but the question hasn’t.

We live in an era of endless health tech—platforms to track, record, connect, and prescribe. These tools promise to make things easier. But when misused or overused, they can also fragment care, distract from connection, and make people feel more lost, not less.

We thought deeply about this when we decided to integrate telehealth into our work. Not because it was trendy, and not because it was convenient. We chose it because it met people where they were—offering relief in a system that already asks too much, without compromising the care they deserve.

What Cars Have to Do with It & The Modern Commute of Care

To explain why that mattered, it helps to go back—way back—to when the automobile first entered everyday life. Cars brought mobility. They opened up access to schools, hospitals, jobs, and family far away. But they also reshaped our communities.

As the nonprofit Strong Towns points out, when car ownership became the norm, cities spread out. Neighborhoods were redesigned around traffic flow, not people. Commutes got longer. Public gathering spaces faded. And we found ourselves spending more time in motion—and less time in community.

The very thing that brought us freedom eventually isolated us. And in a quieter, subtler way, healthcare has followed a similar path.

Today, it’s not unusual for a person with a complex condition to see half a dozen different specialists. That means multiple appointments, across different systems, all requiring time off work, transportation, and the cognitive effort of keeping each provider up to speed.

We’ve seen the toll that takes. Not just the logistical stress, but the emotional weariness. The fragmentation. The feeling that no one—not even the patient—has the full picture.

Telehealth, for us, became a way to relieve that burden. Not to cut corners, but to cut friction. Not to replace human connection, but to preserve it where it matters most.

Choosing Thoughtful Technology

When used with intention, virtual visits can give providers the time to prepare in advance, the space to ask better questions, and the ability to focus on the person in front of them—not just the checklist. It’s not the right setting for everything. But it’s a powerful option for many things.

So we chose it. Not because it was new. But because it felt right. Still, like Nemo, we stay cautious. Tools are only as good as the people who hold them.

The Infrastructure We Actually Need

It’s common to hear healthcare leaders talk about “infrastructure.” Usually, they mean routers, networks, and data pipelines. But we think the real infrastructure problem runs deeper than bandwidth. It’s in the fact that providers don’t have time to think. That patients don’t feel known. That care happens in silos—and no one is responsible for weaving it all together. What we’ve built in healthcare often looks solid from the outside, but it’s fragile underneath. A patchwork of quick fixes and flashy tools. Veneers of access without the depth of relationship.

What we need is something different:
An infrastructure that doesn’t just appear stable—but actually is.

That means systems built to last. Thoughtful from the ground up. Where it’s clear who you’re supposed to see, when you’re supposed to see them, and why. Where every visit has a purpose, and the length of that visit reflects what’s needed—not just what can be billed. We need care plans that are holistic and real, not a chain of disconnected ten-minute slots.

This kind of infrastructure is more than software. It’s a philosophy. One that values discernment over default. That looks beyond the dollar-for-minute exchange and asks deeper questions:

• What does this patient need right now?

• Who should be responsible for following up?

• What’s the long-term value of one more visit, one more test, one more medication?

And:

• What’s the cost if we get it wrong?

The truth is, cheap systems often become expensive ones. Not just financially—but emotionally, relationally, and clinically.

At Storyline, we’re building differently. Not just a new front-end for the same old problems. But a slower, steadier structure that supports the weight of real care. Something designed to serve people—not just process them. Because good infrastructure shouldn’t just function. It should feel like it thought about you ahead of time.

Becoming the “New Men”

Jules Verne’s quote is deceptively simple. The earth doesn’t need new continents. It needs new men. We take that to heart. Because what healthcare needs most right now isn’t another platform or pilot. It needs a posture shift. A way of showing up—prepared, attentive, and human. So that’s what we’re building. Systems that honor your time. Tools that reduce confusion, not add to it. Encounters that are grounded in story, not just symptoms.

We don’t need to start from scratch. We just need to use what we already have—with care.