C L O S L E R
Moving Us Closer To Osler
A Miller Coulson Academy of Clinical Excellence Initiative
The Journal of Hopkins' Center for Humanizing Medicine

Caring for neurodivergent patients 

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Takeaway

After receiving an ADHD diagnosis at age 52, I better understood how clinicians’ communication styles are geared toward people who are neurotypical. Patients with hidden disabilities—often labeled as "slow," "quiet," or "difficult"—may actually be neurodivergent.  

Lifelong learning in clinical excellence | April 23, 2026 | 1 min read

By Nettie Reynolds, MDiv, interfaith chaplain 

 

At 52, my ADHD diagnosis brought relief and clarity. I finally understood why I tracked conversations while monitoring everything else, and why I needed extra time to process what I heard. This insight transformed how I see patients: not everyone presents in ways healthcare professionals are trained to recognize.

 

How we learn to read patients

In clinical settings, we’re trained to read behavior quickly. We assume patients who respond rapidly and follow conversational rhythms are engaged and understanding. These shortcuts work in fast-paced environments, but they’re not universal. When we rely on them too heavily, we miss what’s actually happening.

 

Neurodivergent patients often move differently through interactions. Slower processing gets labeled as confusion and quiet patients are labeled as withdrawn. Sensory overwhelm becomes difficult behavior. These quick interpretations stick, shaping everything that follows.

 

The hidden cost of masking

Many neurodivergent people—patients and providers alike—arrive in clinical settings after years of masking: consciously or unconsciously adopting neurotypical behaviors to fit in. Also called “camouflaging,” masking develops through observation and imitation, becoming automatic over time. But research shows higher masking correlates with increased stress, especially in neurotypical-oriented environments.

 

And healthcare settings intensify this strain. Bright lights, fast pace, and constant interruptions compound existing stress. Even those who manage well elsewhere can reach a breaking point.

 

A real example

My autistic son performs comedy at Columbia College Chicago—present, himself, hilarious. But in a large, brightly lit classroom with constant noise, something shifts. The environment becomes too much, making engagement harder to demonstrate in recognizable ways.

 

The power of slowing down

When healthcare professionals slow down they speed of interactions, they discover patients perceived as distant are actually responding at their own pace. What looked like disengagement was genuine effort. This recognition makes providing appropriate care possible.

 

Learn more

“A Clinician’s Guide to Neurodivergence,” by Sarah Ashworth-WattsNatalie Brotherton, & Hannah Carton

 

 

This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.