Plain Words, Better Outcomes: Writing for Every Patient

Not every patient processes information the same way—and when communication fails, health outcomes suffer.

Imagine leaving a doctor’s office with this set of instructions:

Take this medication twice daily for ten days, with or without food. You might feel a little drowsy at first, so avoid driving or operating heavy machinery. If you experience any severe stomach pain, blurred vision, or swelling, stop taking this medication immediately and head to the emergency room. Afterwards, set a follow-up appointment with the specialist in two weeks, and another with your primary care provider in one month. We’ve sent the prescriptions to your usual pharmacy, but double-check that they received them and confirm your pick-up time. Remember to bring a list of your other medications to both appointments.

Clear enough? Not always. While these instructions cover dosage, side effects, follow-ups, and logistics, many patients still struggle to follow them. Why? Because no two patients process information in the same way.

Why One-Size Doesn’t Fit All

For neurodivergent individuals—those with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), dyslexia, or other differences—dense blocks of text can be confusing, overwhelming, or inaccessible. Neurodiversity recognizes these as natural variations of the human mind, yet many health communicators are unaware of how these variations can impact a patient's ability to understand health information. When health communicators assume every patient processes information the same way, those differences become barriers.

My Journey

I understand these barriers firsthand. For much of my life, building relationships and communicating felt like uphill battles. Too often, people judged me by surface impressions without seeing who I really was. Even as I earned a degree in physiology and neurobiology from the University of Connecticut and pursued medical school, I carried those struggles quietly.

During my final year of medical school, everything came to a breaking point. In a hostile clinical rotation, I endured belittlement, bullying, and false accusations—all without the support I needed. The result was a mental health collapse. At 25, after stepping away from medicine, I was finally diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder.

That diagnosis explained years of feeling misunderstood. It also gave me clarity: while I deeply respect the clinical world, I realized my strengths aligned better with education, research, and communication. Today, I channel my passion for medicine into freelance medical writing and editing, where I focus on making health information both accurate and accessible.

What Patients Taught Me

After leaving medicine, I worked with a therapist and an autism life coach, eventually assisting her in supporting other neurodivergent clients. Again and again, one theme surfaced: navigating health care was stressful, confusing, and often traumatic.

I call this challenge clinical communication mismatch—when medical instructions are delivered in ways that patients cannot process or act on. This mismatch can lead to poor adherence, delayed diagnoses, and worse outcomes.

Closing the Gap

The good news is that health communicators can help bridge this gap. Here are practical strategies writers, clinicians, and educators can use to make information more accessible:

• Involve patients. Co-design materials with neurodivergent people and test for comprehension, not just readability.

• Keep it clear. Use plain, direct language, and put the most important action first.

• Reduce cognitive load. Break text into short sections with headings, bullet points, and checklists.

• Support specific needs. Provide literal, step-by-step instructions for autistic readers; tools and reminders for those with ADHD; dyslexia-friendly design for others.

• Offer multiple formats. Easy Read versions, audio, captioned video, and screen-reader–compatible files ensure wider access.

• Use affirming language. Emphasize autonomy and access, not deficit. 

A Better Approach

Revisiting the original instructions, here’s how they might look when rewritten for accessibility:

Medication Instructions

• Take this medicine 2 times a day for 10 days

• Example: once in the morning, once in the evening

• You can take it with or without food

What You Might Feel

• You may feel sleepy or drowsy at first

• Do not drive or use machines until you know how it affects you

Warning Signs – Call 911 or Go to the ER If You Have:

• Strong stomach pain

• Blurry vision

• Swelling in your face, lips, or body

Next Appointments

• See the specialist in 2 weeks

• See your primary doctor in 1 month

Pharmacy

• Prescription sent to your regular pharmacy

• Call to confirm: Did they receive it? When can you pick it up?

Bring With You

• A list of your other medicines for both visits

The Bottom Line

Writing with neurodiversity in mind doesn't just help neurodivergent people--it can also be beneficial for those with limited literacy skills and non-native English speakers. When we write for diverse audiences, everyone wins.

Effective communication is a two-way street. It requires empathy, patience, and a willingness to meet patients where they are. Neurodivergent individuals bring unique strengths and perspectives, and it is our responsibility as communicators to ensure that health information reaches everyone.

As medical writers, we are the bridge between providers and patients. By breaking down barriers and writing with accessibility in mind, we don’t just improve compliance —we improve equity, outcomes, and trust.