My Letter to Oura Ring: Why Health Tech Needs to Do Better for Disabled Users

I was so excited to get my Oura ring.

I wanted to better understand my sleep patterns, my stress levels, and my overall health. As someone with Spinal Muscular Atrophy, I already know my body works differently. What I didn’t expect was how little the device and the app seemed to acknowledge that people like me exist.

Health tech is booming. It seems like every month, there’s a new wearable promising deeper insights, smarter recommendations, and a more personalized wellness journey. But if that technology doesn’t consider disabled bodies, then it’s clear who it’s really built for and who it’s leaving behind. That needs to change.

Over time, I've grown more frustrated with the Oura experience. My baseline heart rate was flagged as “stress.” Sleep tracking ignored my actual bedtime. I was reminded to “get up and stretch my legs” while sitting in a wheelchair. And while their activity list is extensive, it does not include any disabled sports.

So I wrote a letter. And I’m sharing it here, not just to vent, but to raise awareness about how much more inclusive health technology could be. Here’s what I sent to Oura:

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Hi Oura​ team,
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I’m writing to share some feedback on the Oura Ring and app experience, especially from the perspective of someone living with a physical disability.

I have a neuromuscular condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy, and while I was excited to try the Oura Ring to help me better understand my body, I’ve been feeling increasingly frustrated. The current setup doesn’t seem to take into account people with disabilities, particularly those with mobility-limiting conditions.

For example, my resting heart rate is naturally higher and yet after months of wearing the ring, it still hasn’t adapted or recognized my baseline. I’m regularly flagged as being in stress mode​ when I’m completely calm. It feels like the device isn't truly learning from my data or offering meaningful insights based on my actual health.

Sleep tracking has also been disappointing. There are nights where I went to bed around midnight, but the app insists I didn’t go to sleep until 4:30 a.m. I assume this may be tied to heart rate or movement, but either way, there should be a way to manually adjust or confirm ​an earlier bedtime. The app also repeatedly suggests a 9 p.m. bedtime, even though I don’t have caregivers until at least 10 p.m., so an earlier bedtime just isn’t possible for me. I’ve turned off those notifications because they don’t reflect my reality, but it’s frustrating that I can’t train the app to understand my schedule.

The same goes for the activity tracking. I know I can turn off the notifications, which I did, but the tracker itself just isn’t very useful for someone who uses a wheelchair full-time. Being told to “get up and stretch your legs” feels thoughtless. It could easily be reworded into something more inclusive, like “time for some movement,” to acknowledge that not everyone can or needs to stand up.

I also play competitive wheelchair soccer and have to manually log it every time as a custom activity. It would be amazing if the app included common adaptive sports like wheelchair basketball, power soccer, and other activities for people with disabilities. The lack of inclusive options makes it feel like we’re an afterthought.

The Oura Ring was a significant investment, and I’ve been disappointed in how little value it’s providing for someone with my needs. I truly hope you’ll consider improvements that make the app more accessible​ for everyone. Smarter personalization, manual input options, inclusive language, and better flexibility could go a long way in making the Oura experience more welcoming and effective for everyone.

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The truth is, I’m not alone.

Millions of people live with disabilities, whether physical, degenerative, or neurological, and we deserve access to the same health insights as everyone else. But that access requires intention. It requires product teams that think beyond the default user. It requires feedback loops that include us.

I hope Oura reads this and takes it seriously. I hope other health tech companies do too. Because inclusive design isn’t just about accessibility checkboxes. It’s about respect, equity, and the belief that all bodies are worth understanding.

Let’s do better.