Voices of the BCA is a member spotlight series sharing the perspectives, experiences, and insights of chiropractors across the UK.
In this edition, we hear from Amber Hodgson, a new graduate chiropractor working as an associate. Amber navigated her own disability through training, went on to complete undergraduate research into the experiences of disabled chiropractic students, and now sits on the BCA Student and New Graduate Committee. She thinks carefully about how she communicates with patients, is open about a period of serious doubt early in her training, and describes a placement moment that has quietly shaped every consultation since.
What is one experience you have had that genuinely changed how you practise, and why?
During a university placement, I observed a patient attend shortly after the loss of their spouse. The chiropractor provided gentle soft tissue treatment, but more importantly, they demonstrated active listening, compassion, and thoughtful signposting to appropriate support, including the GP and bereavement services.
The session wasn't driven by a rigid treatment plan. It was shaped around what the patient needed in that moment.
That experience fundamentally changed how I practise. It showed me that effective chiropractic care is not simply about delivering a pre-determined management plan; it requires responsiveness, adaptability, and recognition of the wider biopsychosocial context in which pain exists.
I later encountered a similar situation in my own clinical practice. A patient attended while experiencing significant family illness and bereavement-related stress. I had prepared to progress their rehabilitation plan, but it became clear early in the consultation that emotional strain was amplifying their symptoms. Rather than advancing the programme as planned, I adapted. I delivered gentle cranial and soft tissue techniques focused on symptom relief, prioritised areas affecting their ability to continue working in a manual role and temporarily paused the structured rehabilitation. I also encouraged rest, grounding strategies, and appropriate support-seeking.
The patient described the session as "exactly what I needed."
That experience reinforced for me that chiropractic practice is a careful balance.
Evidence-informed protocols, structured rehabilitation plans, and clear clinical pathways are essential, particularly when identifying red flags or managing acute presentations. However, effective care is not delivered by protocol alone. It requires interpreting those frameworks through the lens of the individual in front of you.
For me, that placement observation reshaped practice from being solely plan-led to being both evidence-informed and deeply person-centred; not choosing between structure and compassion but skilfully navigating both.
What is one thing you regularly find yourself explaining to patients about musculoskeletal health?
One thing I frequently discuss with patients is what a diagnosis actually means — and just as importantly, what it doesn't.
Diagnostic labels can sometimes be received with pessimism or catastrophising. Patients may hear terms such as "arthritis," "chronic pain," or "hypermobility" and assume they represent a single, inevitable pathway towards decline or lifelong dysfunction. In reality, most musculoskeletal conditions exist on a spectrum, and outcomes are often shaped by modifiable factors.
I often describe a diagnosis as a crossroads rather than a conclusion. One direction involves fear-avoidance, reduced activity, and disengagement from supportive habits, all of which can contribute to poorer long-term outcomes. The other focuses on informed self-management: appropriate movement, gradual strengthening, pacing, lifestyle considerations, and building confidence in the body's capacity to adapt.
Providing a diagnosis matters for clarity, shared decision-making, and informed consent. But how it's framed can significantly influence how it's received.
A label should guide management and collaboration, not limit a patient’s expectations of what is possible. Through education, reassurance, and collaborative goal-setting, we can help patients move forward with clarity rather than fear.
What is one belief about chiropractic that you had early in your career that has since changed?
Early in my training, as a student navigating my own disability, I experienced significant self-doubt. I searched for someone within the profession who shared my diagnosis — not for advice, but for reassurance that qualification and long-term practice were realistic, and that I wasn't alone.
At times, that search was discouraging.
I encountered claims suggesting chiropractic could resolve my condition. My personal experience didn't align with those claims, and reading them was unsettling. It made me question whether I could feel fully comfortable in a profession where some perspectives didn't align with my lived experience, or with the standards of evidence-informed healthcare I valued.
There was a point where I considered stepping away.
What changed was engaging more directly with the profession rather than forming conclusions from isolated examples. Conversations with my tutor, attending conferences, and becoming more involved professionally gave me a broader and more representative picture of chiropractic practice. This also shaped my decision to undertake undergraduate research exploring the experiences of disabled chiropractic students.
Presenting that research to the wider profession was significant, and the response was engaged and constructive. It reflected a profession comfortable with reflection and committed to maintaining high standards.
Over time, my early apprehension diminished. I came to recognise that, while the profession contains a range of views, there is a clear commitment to professional standards, patient-centred care, and responsible practice.
Through involvement in the student and new graduate committee and work within a placement clinic, I hope to contribute positively to that professional culture and be someone students can approach if they share similar concerns. If others are navigating comparable doubts, I hope they feel reassured that, although the journey can be challenging, it is entirely achievable.
The belief that changed for me was not about chiropractic itself, but about perspective. Greater engagement brought clarity and reassurance.
What is a small communication habit that has made the biggest difference to your patient relationships?
One of the smallest, but most transformative, habits I’ve developed is consciously translating clinical reasoning into clear, relatable explanations.
As I prepared to enter the student clinic, I practised explaining conditions and treatment rationales to family members. I realised I had fallen into the habit of speaking in what I can only describe as “OSCE language”, technically correct, but not always accessible. While I wanted patients to feel confident in my competence, I sometimes created a barrier to genuine understanding.
Over time, I’ve learned that patients value clarity far more than complexity.
Now, I focus on explaining diagnoses and management plans in ways that are both accurate and accessible, often supported by models or diagrams.
Providing a diagnosis is important for clarity, shared decision-making, and informed consent. However, terminology alone rarely provides meaningful understanding.
I aim to explain what that diagnosis represents functionally and biomechanically, what may be happening in the body, what is adaptable, what is treatable and what patients can influence.
This shift has made a noticeable difference. Patients engage more, ask more questions, and become active participants in their care rather than passive recipients of treatment.
I’ve also become increasingly aware of how language can shape expectations. Certain diagnoses, when delivered without context, can unintentionally trigger fear or catastrophic thinking. Framing explanations in a reassuring, evidence-informed way, while remaining transparent and clinically accurate, helps patients feel safe to move, exercise, and participate in rehabilitation.
It remains an ongoing process. I enjoy adapting explanations depending on who is in front of me. In paediatrics, for example, I might describe symptoms as the body’s protective response rather than something “wrong.” Finding those accessible metaphors that support understanding without diluting accuracy.
For me, that shift, from demonstrating knowledge to facilitating understanding, has made the greatest difference in strengthening therapeutic relationships.
Voices of the BCA is a fortnightly series where BCA members speak in their own words about practice, patients, and the profession they've chosen. If you are a BCA member and you’d like to participate, contact katrin.mahfuz@chiropractic-uk.co.uk.