They’re Patients, Not Clients: Language as an Ethical North Star in Aesthetic Medicine

Spend a few minutes scrolling through the #injector reels on TikTok and you will hear it again and again: “My client wanted a little more lip volume,” or “I tell my clients to ice afterward.” The vocabulary slips by so casually that many practitioners barely notice; or worse, they no longer care. Yet the difference between client and patient is more than a quibble over semantics; it is a barometer of whether we see our work as fundamentally commercial or fundamentally medical.

The American Medical Association’s Code of Medical Ethics opens with a covenant that the welfare of patients must come before the self-interest of physicians. That fiduciary duty is woven into the very word patient, which implies a person entrusted to our care and protected by professional standards that reach back to the Hippocratic Oath. Public perception mirrors this distinction. In a survey conducted in Trinidad, most respondents said they preferred to be called “patients” rather than “clients” or “customers,” signaling that society still views medical encounters as separate from retail transactions. When we swap patient for client, we risk recasting the encounter as a quid-pro-quo purchase rather than a therapeutic alliance grounded in trust.

Aesthetic medicine may be elective, but it is never trivial. We inject neurotoxins capable of inducing ptosis, introduce fillers that can occlude arteries, and deliver energy that can scar. Every consent discussion reminds us that we function under the same legal and ethical frameworks as our surgical colleagues. Framing the visit as a sale tilts decision-making toward revenue optimization—more syringes, more sessions—rather than toward an honest calculus of risk, benefit, and necessity.

Commercial language does more than signal priorities; it shapes behavior. Regulators understand this power well. HIPAA defines “marketing” as any communication designed to persuade someone to buy a product or service and strictly controls the use of protected health information for that purpose. When we adopt the word client, we align our messaging with that transactional mindset, blurring the boundary between therapeutic education and sales pitch. The result is a social-media culture where before-and-after reels masquerade as infotainment yet subtly normalize overselling and overtreatment.

Reclaiming the word patient recenters the profession in three tangible ways. First, it places safety back at the top of the pyramid. Staff and trainees who hear patient are subconsciously reminded that clinical judgment, not customer-satisfaction metrics, drives dosing, device choice, and retreatment timing. Second, it guides ethical marketing; images and captions must respect privacy, have genuine informed consent, and present balanced information when the subject is unmistakably a patient. Third, it builds public trust by signaling that well-being, not profit, governs our recommendations. That trust differentiates physician-led practices from purely commercial spas and is arguably the most durable brand asset any clinic can own.

How, then, do we make the language shift without sounding preachy? Start with a quiet audit of the clinic’s digital footprint, such as biographies, captions, consent forms, even voicemail greetings, and replace every client with patient. Pair the change with a brief staff meeting that explains why the term matters; employees quickly understand that the word is not about prestige but protection. During education sessions, illustrate the concept with real-life decisions to decline treatment: the filler addict seeking an eighth syringe, the 22-year-old who wants buccal fat removal, the adrenaline-fueled executive begging for a midday CO₂ laser treatment. Recounting those moments reinforces the idea that medicine, not merchandising, governs our advice. Finally, model the vocabulary yourself. When the team leader consistently uses patient in every podcast, keynote, and social media clip, the team—and the algorithm—eventually follows suit.

Our specialty occupies a fascinating intersection of science, beauty, business, and art. Yet the moral geometry remains simple: The injector may profit, but the patient must benefit. Vocabulary is the first and most public declaration of where we draw that boundary. By reserving the word patient for those seeking our help, we reaffirm the oath that set us on this path: to heal first, to do no harm, and to let commerce trail, never lead.