In a sunlit rehabilitation clinic in Boston, physical therapist Elena Ortiz sighs as she adjusts the straps of a standard lower limb exoskeleton robot on her patient, 45-year-old Marcus. A construction worker recovering from a spinal injury, Marcus stands at 5'10" with a muscular build—but the exoskeleton, designed for an "average" male frame, pinches his thighs and misaligns his knees. "It feels like wearing shoes two sizes too small," he grunts, sweat beading on his forehead. Down the hall, 72-year-old Clara, a retired ballerina with a petite 4'11" frame, stares at the same device, defeated. "I tried it last week," she tells Elena. "The controls didn't even reach my hands. I just felt… invisible."
This is the reality of modern rehabilitation: robotic lower limb exoskeletons, once hailed as revolutionary tools for mobility and recovery, often fail to account for the stunning diversity of human bodies. From height and weight to limb proportions and muscle mass, patients come in all shapes—and fixed-size exoskeletons leave many behind. For clinics and hospitals, the solution has too often been buying multiple devices, each tailored to a narrow demographic—a costly, space-consuming approach that excludes smaller practices and underserved communities. But what if there was a better way? What if exoskeletons could adapt, not just to a patient's injury, but to their unique body?
