Let me share something personal. A year ago, I had a routine medical screening done. Needless to say, I physically felt a little, shall we say, mishandled by the technician who conducted the screening. Not a lot, but just enough to make the experience mildly startling. I promised myself that this year, when I went to get that routine screening again, I would inquire about trauma-informed care.
When I arrived in the room this year, I asked the technician (same facility but a different technician from last year) if they were trained in trauma-informed care. This technician, as kind and as proficient as they were, told me they did not know what that was. I was more shocked about this year’s technician admitting they did not know what trauma-informed care was than by how I felt physically mishandled last year.
For those who do not know, traditional trauma-informed care began in the field of mental health. It is about knowing what the signs and symptoms of trauma are in a person, recognizing them when a client demonstrates them, proceeding with caution, addressing or treating the trauma, and avoiding retraumatization. As the field’s understanding of trauma grew, so too did the need for most mental health providers to become trained in it, even if they did not directly treat trauma. It is now a regular part of a therapist’s training.
But we now also know that people do not turn on or turn off their trauma symptoms; they are with them in all contexts. In addition, we now also know that trauma has a body-based component. And so, trauma-informed care needs to be necessary in any atmosphere where health providers are working with patients and their bodies—meaning medical (including all specialties), dental, and vision; alternative health care like chiropractic and acupuncture; even long-term/rehabilitative care (like physical therapy); and the list goes on.
In healthcare-based trauma-informed care, there are three main principles: partnering, consent, and pacing. Partnering involves the provider being aware of the power dynamic in the room and relationship and avoiding a “power over” position with the patient. Approaching the patient as a partner or peer in the maintenance of their health is a workaround to the traditional “power over” or “provider has the authority” mindset in the treatment room.
Consent involves obtaining the patient’s consent at every step of the interaction, including the opportunity to say no or stop. Offering the patient a way of communicating their no or stop can include the provider saying, “Raise your hand if you need me to temporarily stop.”
Interestingly, when I told a friend about feeling physically mishandled, my friend said, “Well, you were there for the screening, so you consented to it.” And this is where I think a lot of people, including providers and the larger healthcare system, go in their thinking and approach. As someone who tries to take care of her health, yes, of course, I consented to getting the screening, but I did not consent to being touched in a way that felt like I was mishandled. This is an important distinction and nuance to how care is delivered.
Finally, pacing involves taking cues from the patient as to whether the treatment is going at a pace the patient can manage and process. An oversimplified explanation of why trauma happens in a person’s psychology is that an event occurs too quickly for the person to process. This is where giving the patient explicit permission to say “Slow down” or “Give me a minute before we proceed” can be helpful.
With all this in mind, let me return to my routine medical screening from last year to illustrate how each of these principles could have occurred.
Instead of the technician just moving my body without warning, they could have said, “I am now going to move your body.” Or better, asked me, “May I move your body?” Or even better still, asked me to move my own body. When the technician moved my body without warning, they demonstrated they were in charge of the situation and that I needed to capitulate to them—the “power over” dynamic was present. Giving me a warning that they were about to move my body is a tiny step into partnering and pacing. Asking if they could either move my body or asking me to move my own body would have demonstrated that I still had autonomy over my body, they were respecting that fact, and it would have given me the opportunity to consent and control the pacing of the interaction.
If medicine claims to respect its patients and treat them with dignity, one of the most powerful ways the system can demonstrate that to its patients (and providers) is by training all providers at all levels (from office staff to nurses to physician assistants to physicians) on these core competencies of trauma-informed care. By attending to the principles of partnering, consent, and pacing in all interactions with patients, healthcare providers actually have the power to communicate to their patients, in multiple big and small ways during a single visit, that they see their patients’ humanity and honor it. In 2026, this is a deeply powerful message to send and receive.
I should also mention that historically, trauma-informed medical care has been given to women/people assigned female at birth who were sexually assaulted and seeking treatment for it (i.e., a forensic examination). However, we know that men/people assigned male at birth also experience sexual abuse and assault and that it is woefully under-reported and under-assessed. Healthcare across the board needs to provide trauma-informed care without needing to know if a patient has a trauma history because, in the end, trauma-informed care is truly dignified care.
I encourage all my clients (regardless if they have trauma histories), and everyone reading this, to start asking all their health care providers if they are trained in trauma-informed care the next time they see them. They might tell you they are not (like what I experienced), but with more patients asking, it could put appropriate pressure on our health care systems to invest in it.
