Climb Every Mountain
Through eight promotions in nine years, DAP Health’s Chief Transformation Officer C.J. Tobe emerges with the biggest, best job of his still-young career.
Words by Kay Kudukis
The inherited first name didn’t enthuse his pregnant mother, but when his paternal grandfather died three months before her baby’s birth on January 1, 1986, she acquiesced and wrote “Cletus Joseph Tobe III” on the birth certificate. One caveat: “We’re calling him C.J.”
They lived in Fort Recovery, Ohio. Population 1,273. With their clan making up a good portion of that number. Tobe has over 70 first cousins on just one side of his family, plus a younger brother and sister, so childhood was really fun. But when he was 13, Mom got cancer, and he was the only one cheerleading through the mastectomy, chemo, radiation, and bone marrow transplant, rocking “Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba — “I get knocked down, but I get up again” — until she finally did. Today, Mom is cancer free and, unsurprisingly, divorced.
When he wasn’t in class, Tobe tutored, and served on the student council. On the field and on the court, he was a total jock, and like many of that ilk, broke many a girl’s heart. Academically he was all about history, but he did well in all classes. To anyone on the outside, he was crushing it. On the inside? He didn’t fit in. Maybe when he had his own life and family, he thought, things would click.
It Only Hurts When I’m Breathing ~ Shania Twain
“I was going to Wright State University in Dayton to be a special ed teacher and coach sports,” Tobe recalls. “I was also tutoring a group of kids with autism, and working retail making seven bucks an hour.” He felt the aforementioned click when he met his first boyfriend. He casually told Mom, who was very much not OK. So, he moved out — and in with the boyfriend — continuing college while coaching basketball. The once unbreakable bond between mother and son teetered between strained and vanished.
In 2009, Tobe woke up deaf. He was 23.
The ER put him on steroids, suggesting he follow up with his primary care physician. Many insurance hoops later, a specialist put him on antiviral meds, shot his ears full of steroids, and restored 20% of his hearing in his right ear. Nothing helped his left. Most mysteriously, no one had any idea why. His only other symptom was a headache.
When he eventually got shingles, and started losing weight, a friend working at the local AIDS service organization tested him at his dining room table. Tobe had AIDS.
Mystery solved. Studies have now shown 14 - 49% of HIV-positive patients have hearing impairment.
Abandoned by Almost Everybody
Within 90 days of starting lifesaving treatment, Tobe’s diagnosis was downgraded (or upgraded, depending on your outlook) to HIV-positive, where it has remained ever since. But the first 30 days were not only terrifying but emotionally devastating. “Everybody found out my status,” says Tobe, adding he’d granted no permission. “I pretty much lost my entire social network, except for my two best friends, who remain my besties today.”
Mom was there tubthumping, as he had for her 11 years prior, but it took a referral to Dr. Stephen Emerick, a psychologist and certified advanced grief counselor, to help him hear the part about getting up again. “He saved my life,” Tobe says, voice full of gratitude. “He had me sign an ‘I will not complete suicide contract’ with my mom and him. He led me to grieve and heal and take control of my life through Native American teachings.”
In 2013, at 27, Tobe and his dog took a plane to Palm Springs. They had $20, didn’t know a soul, and didn’t care. Tobe just wanted to live where he was accepted. Ruth Hardy Park was the bedroom he sometimes occupied with other unhoused people, until an Ohio friend also moved to Palm Springs and upgraded Tobe to his spare bedroom.
Later, a boyfriend Tobe was living with got a job in Grand Junction, Colorado, and so Tobe and the pup went too. He was already looking for work when he went to Western Colorado Health Network, the town’s AIDS service organization, to become a client. His case worker heard his story and encouraged him to apply for a case worker position. After rigorous interviewing, he got the job.
Never be Bitter. Be better ~ Stephen Emerick, MD, PhD
Helping those like him — those living with HIV and AIDS — turned out to be his jam. It lit a fire in his soul, gave him passion, imbued him with purpose. He knew without a doubt that this was what he wanted to do. But man, he missed Palm Springs.
So, when Senior Director of Social Services Zayda Welden, at what was then still known as Desert AIDS Project, responded to Tobe’s unsolicited resume with a Zoom request to interview for a medical case manager position, Tobe instead said, “I’ll be right there.” He got the job. It was 2015. He was a year shy of 30.
Within six years, he was promoted to a) clinic case manager, b) community health intervention and education manager, c) community health prevention programs manager, d) interim director of community health, e) director of community health, and f) director of community health and sexual wellness — all while furthering his education online.
Tobe earned his bachelor’s from Arizona State University, graduated with honors in health care management at California Primary Care Association (CPCA), and received his master’s in organizational leadership from Gonzaga University. In late 2023, he was promoted a seventh time, to chief of community health.
Jumping Into Executive Leadership
During subsequent staff and senior leadership meetings, Chief Operating Officer Corina Velasquez observed Tobe’s energy and hunger. “What I’ve always seen in C.J. is his drive, and his strong sense of mission for everyone — just doing the right thing,” she says. But what really got her attention was the way he recently took on a “monster project” of process-mapping (AKA bringing groups together). Seeing gaps in things or identifying where there’s overlap. He nailed the assignment.
Curious, she asked him what filled his cup. Is DAP Health where he saw himself in five years? From that conversation, she recognized his strong passion for developing people and teams. “It prompted me to start conversations with [CEO David Brinkman] and other executive team members,” Velasquez notes.
Tobe was tasked to build his own “honey do” list, and presented 15 pressing processes he’d like to strengthen. The executive leadership team (ELT) chose three to start: partnering with compliance and operations to improve access and quality care for patients (including transportation), maximizing in-house pharmacies to increase patient access, and unbooked appointments (making sure patients are on a wellness track by utilizing clinics to operating capacity). In early June of 2024, Tobe ascended an eighth time, to the newly created role of chief transformation officer. He now has a seat on DAP Health's aforementioned ELT. For the record, he’s still only 38.
“It’s really the next step in our integration,” Tobe explains, referring to the nonprofit’s absorption of the Borrego Health system almost a year ago. “Coming together as one, creating synergy by inspiring people, and making sure we have the right people at the table. It’s about making sure communication is happening, playing to people’s strengths, building that culture, and embodying and simplifying our values, which all leads to greater patient access.”
Tobe claims the scope of this new position allows him to “address the things that keep me up at night.” He’s jazzed about eventually coauthoring solutions for them all. He smiles contentedly. “I just love my work.”