Today we’d like to introduce you to Susan Jung.
Hi Susan, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
As the first girl born into a family of all boys, my grandmother gave me the nickname Pan Pan, meaning “long hoped for.” My grandmother had four sons and, until I came along, only grandsons. Growing up in 1970s Taipei, Taiwan, I always felt deeply cherished and loved by my large extended family. The rich traditions and close-knit relationships gave me a strong sense of security.
Perhaps it was that security that made me more adaptable to change. By the time I entered college, I had attended ten different schools—across Taiwan, Wisconsin, and California. Often, I wasn’t just the new kid—I was the one who looked and acted differently.
At five, I started kindergarten in Milwaukee. Each day, I walked alone through the snow to catch the school bus. At eight, I returned to Taiwan and had to quickly catch up in reading and writing Chinese. At fourteen, my family moved to Los Angeles, where I was placed in ESL. I remember flipping through the dictionary, searching under “Q” to find how to spell the word cute—just to complete a sentence in my assignment. I watched Sesame Street every afternoon—not for fun, but out of the need to learn the language everyone else already seemed to know.
The truth is, I was so focused on catching up that I never really minded not always belonging.
What grounded me, beyond family, was my love of reading. Books opened worlds beyond my own, shaped my character, and helped me understand my place in the world. My childhood heroes were Mother Teresa and Dr. Albert Schweitzer. I dreamed of one day following in their footsteps—serving others with compassion, especially those most in need.
I still remember my father’s words: “Well, you don’t have a special talent, and you’re not particularly smart. But you’re responsible, and you’re willing to work hard. I think you can be a good doctor.” It wasn’t the compliment most people expect, but I took it to heart—coming from a father who knew me well and loved me as the child most like him. I went to medical school, chose family medicine, and stayed true to that early dream of serving others.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Before the 80-hour workweek rule was adopted for residents in more recent years, it wasn’t unusual for us to work 36-hour shifts, take q4 calls (every fourth night), and log up to 120 hours a week during the toughest rotations. Those were grueling days—but being young and driven, I was single-minded in my pursuit of medical training.
The greatest challenge came not during those long nights in the hospital, but at the very end of residency—when I became a mother for the first time.
This is where I must speak about my own mother, who has always been my role model. She graduated from National Taiwan University and had many promising career opportunities. But she chose what she considered the highest calling: to be our mother. She is capable, wise, the steady rock for my father, and the safe harbor for her three children.
While I aspired to be like my father in his devotion to patients, I also dreamed of being like my mother—raising children, reading to them, going on long walks, sharing hugs and conversations, and cooking meals that filled both stomach and soul.
So when my daughter was born, I was suddenly confronted with the impossible: I couldn’t be in two places at once. I asked everyone I trusted—my husband, my parents, my in-laws—what I should do. They all said the same thing: Take care of yourself first. It’s your decision.
But this time, there was no answer in the textbooks. I was lost. In desperation, I prayed:
“Dear Heavenly Father, You’ve given me the skills to be a doctor, and I want to serve You. Please, could You give me a job that’s within five miles of home, and only in the mornings—so I can be with my children in the afternoons?”
God answered that prayer—exactly.
I prayed that same prayer again when my second and third children were born. Each time, our family had to move, and each time, God was faithful.
Now, with my oldest in college and the other two in high school, I look back with immense gratitude. I was there. To my children, I was like a full-time mom—because I was always home when they were. And that has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I first met Caroline Eng, the current CEO of Herald Christian Health Center, in 2008 after receiving a letter from the Christian Medical and Dental Association (CMDA) about a new clinic seeking support. This was before the Affordable Care Act—when many uninsured individuals, especially immigrants, were afraid to seek medical care due to the overwhelming cost.
Caroline had been volunteering with Herald’s Cancer Support Group, where she witnessed firsthand how many patients’ cancers might have been curable—if only they had sought treatment earlier. With this burden on her heart, she began operating a small clinic out of a converted liquor store at the corner of Mission Drive and San Gabriel Boulevard.
In those early days, the clinic relied almost entirely on donations and volunteers. The small staff took steep pay cuts and worked without benefits, united by a shared commitment to serve the underserved, even with extremely limited resources. Over time, the clinic achieved Federally Qualified Health Center (FQHC) status, which brought stable funding and allowed it to grow. Today, Herald operates multiple sites across the San Gabriel Valley, offering high-quality, comprehensive, and holistic care to thousands of patients.
I truly enjoy my work. I often tell my children that even if I weren’t paid, I would still want to do what I do. Every time I put on my white coat, it feels like stepping into a telephone booth—transforming, like Clark Kent into Superman. Patients place their trust in me and share their deepest fears, struggles, and stories. I’m honored to walk alongside them through hardship, to celebrate their victories, and to build relationships that endure.
To be a good physician, one must be knowledgeable. Medicine is constantly evolving, with new research, treatments, and technologies emerging every day. But medicine is also a craft—an art that must be refined through lifelong learning and daily practice. Recently, my family watched the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, about a renowned sushi chef who dedicates each day to making his sushi just a little better than the day before. That mindset resonated deeply with me. Like Jiro, I see each day as an opportunity to improve—to deepen both skill and insight.
But beyond skill, there is the heart. A good physician must be humble and empathetic. Having been a patient myself—and having experienced the emotional rollercoaster that illness brings—I’ve learned to listen more patiently, more compassionately. I understand, more deeply now, what it means to be on the other side.
I’m also grateful for the life experiences that help me connect with people from all walks of life. Growing up in Taiwan gave me fluency in Mandarin and Taiwanese. Studying abroad in Mexico during college helped me learn Spanish. I love being able to speak to patients in their native language. It builds trust, creates connection, and is deeply fulfilling.
What matters most to you? Why?
What matters most to me is to be a faithful servant. Whether my days are many or few, I want to be a good steward of all that I’ve been given.
I haven’t always lived up to this, but it remains my daily hope and intention. I often remind myself of a truth paraphrased from Leo Tolstoy’s The Three Questions:
“The most important time is now,
the most important person is the one in front of you,
and the most important thing is to do them good.”
I am deeply thankful for all that I’ve received—and for the many people who have supported and encouraged me along the way. I want to give special thanks to my husband, whom I met nearly 28 years ago at UCSD medical school. He is my best friend—the one who has stood by me, supported me wholeheartedly, and always had my best interests at heart. He knows me fully—my flaws, my quirks, and all my imperfections—and loves me still. That, to me, is a rare and beautiful gift.
