When the Medical Model is too Dominant

A few months ago, we moved across the country to a new state, and I found myself working in a different health environment. For years, I had always maintained part-time work in a clinical role — because I love it so much — alongside my private practice. So after our move, I started a new role. But this role was different. On paper, it was fine. In reality, the system was overwhelmingly medically heavy. The medical model was just too dominant.

And this experience made me stop and reflect on the meaning of the term "allied health". When you hear the term "allied health", what comes to your mind? I had always pictured us as "allies" to the medical profession. (I'm sure there is a lot more to the definition, but this is the view that I always had in my career). A group of health professions that were distinct from medicine and nursing, but still allied to medicine. That word "allied" means we work alongside, contributing our own expertise, not in service to but in partnership with the medical professionals.

But this new role didn't feel like a partnership at all. I didn't feel like I was working alongside the medical team. I was working in support of them. I was waiting for their instructions, waiting for their approval, listening to their conclusions before engaging with clients.

I raised my concerns with management, but was met with a response that essentially said: "We understand, but nothing will change." After six weeks, I resigned — the shortest time I've ever stayed in a job. It felt strange, but also necessary. And then, of course, the questions came: Could I have lasted longer? Should I have tried harder? Was I too quick to decide? Could I have pushed for change?

As allied health practitioners, when we step into health roles in hospitals, outpatient clinics, or other medical environments, the weight of the medical model is always present. In the medical model, the treating consultant — the doctor — holds ultimate responsibility for the patient's care. While this makes sense from a clinical governance perspective, it also creates space for dominance. That dominance can subtly (or not so subtly) shape team dynamics. It can position allied health as "supporting roles," when in reality, we bring perspectives that are just as critical to recovery, quality of life, and long-term outcomes.

If this type of dynamics in the workplace is not adequately dealt with, acknowledged, and changed, it becomes a culture. In the role I described earlier, the culture was well-established, and there wasn't much I could have done on my own to make changes.

While I was reflecting on my decision to leave, I asked myself:

• Is this care truly multidisciplinary?

• Is this care truly patient-centred?

The honest answer? (for me). Sometimes yes, but most often no. When you filter decisions through a medical lens only, a client's voice and allied health expertise are frequently overshadowed. Psychologists, social workers, OTs, speech pathologists, dietitians, physios, and others bring dimensions of care that medicine alone cannot deliver — dimensions that speak to functioning, wellbeing, environment, meaning, and lived experience.

What Can We Do Differently?

As allied health practitioners, we don't need to fight against the medical model — but we can do our best to balance it. Here are some ideas on how we can strengthen the partnership:

• Educate through being present and doing. Every interaction is an opportunity to show the value of allied health — whether it's how physio shapes recovery time, how social work prevents readmission, or how dietetics reduces long-term complications.

• Speak the language of medicine, but don't lose our own voice. Translate our expertise into outcomes and risk language that resonates with medical colleagues, while still advocating for psychosocial and functional perspectives. For example, an OT might say, “With the right equipment, the patient can safely return to their daily routines and feel confident managing at home, which lowers carer stress and improves quality of life.”

• Hold firm to patient-centred practice. Ask the questions others might miss: "What matters most to you?" or "How will this impact your daily life?"

• Model collaboration, not hierarchy. Invite medical colleagues into shared problem-solving rather than waiting for permission.

Final Thought

The medical model isn’t going anywhere — nor should it. Medicine saves lives. But allied health transforms lives. When both are respected equally, care moves beyond treatment and survival to recovery, meaning, and quality of life.

That’s why, when I found myself in a role where the balance wasn’t there — where my work felt more like support than partnership — I knew I couldn’t stay. Resigning after six weeks was uncomfortable, but it was also a reminder: culture matters, and so does knowing when your voice isn’t being heard.

So perhaps the real challenge is not in proving ourselves as “allies” to medicine, but in standing shoulder to shoulder with it — confident, collaborative, and clear about the value we bring.