The idea for HeadX came from a weekend that had nothing to do with physiotherapy or technology sales, but everything to do with possibility. A few years ago, I joined Hackcessible, a design hackathon at my old university in Sheffield. It brought together students, engineers and people living with disabilities to create solutions for everyday challenges that, until then, had been left unsolved. Over two days, I watched people build small but brilliant devices — simple tools that restored a bit of independence, confidence, or dignity. It showed me the raw power of practical innovation. That weekend was the moment I decided I wanted to build something that mattered.
After that, I became increasingly fascinated by the problem of concussion. It’s an area full of passion, complexity and unanswered questions. I started exploring how technology could be used to measure and monitor head movement during impact — to capture the kind of data that could help clinicians and researchers better understand the forces involved in concussion. The goal of that project was to take the principles behind existing smart mouthguard technology and make them more accessible and affordable for grassroots sport and schools — helping to bring meaningful head-impact data to environments that rarely have access to it.
The project is still ongoing, and while the potential is clear, the world of concussion monitoring remains complicated. A few more pieces need to fall into place — scientifically, clinically and regulatorily — before that kind of technology is truly ready. But it deepened my commitment to designing tools that help clinicians understand and protect the human body better.
The next step came almost by chance. In September 2024, I met David Bartlett from Your Brain Health in the lobby of a Bristol hotel. We were there to talk about another project, but as the conversation wrapped up, he said something that stopped me: “Do you think you could put a crosshair laser on a headband?” He explained that he and Associate Professor James McLoughlin had been searching for such a tool for years but had never found one. Every available system missed a critical third dimension — lateral tilt. Flexion and rotation could be trained, but that vital plane of movement was missing. It was a simple question that opened a door.
A few days later, I began tinkering in my workshop. The first prototype was crude — elastic and 3D-printed parts holding a few laser modules I’d built myself — but it worked. It could track lateral tilt. I shipped the first few units halfway around the world to James in Australia. He tested them in clinic, sent feedback, and then, with a bit of adjustment, gave a quiet thumbs-up. That was all the encouragement I needed. Soon after came conversations with neurophysiotherapist Nicola Hunt and Emma Edwards at the University of Exeter, who helped me see how this could fit into real clinical pathways.
At first, I struggled to explain to people what a “crosshair laser on the head” actually achieved. The concept of Joint Position Sense isn’t familiar to most, and it took time to articulate why visual feedback matters for head and neck control. But the clinicians filled in the gaps for me. Each conversation added another application — whiplash, balance, ocular motor activation, post-stroke recovery, neck pain, concussion. The list kept growing, and so did my sense of how under-served this area of rehabilitation really was. The challenge now is not invention, but focus.
Bringing a physical product to market is always hard, but medical-adjacent hardware is another level. Regulatory approval was a steep climb — countless tests, documents and risk assessments to prove what we already knew: that the device was safe. The process taught patience, humility, and respect for the people who keep patients safe by making us justify every decision.
When the time came to name it, I wanted something simple, memorable, and clear about its purpose. HeadX Kross just felt right — strong, deliberate, and with a hint of play in the “K.”
Our early collaborations with Your Brain Health and Blue Sky Physiotherapy were turning points. They validated that this wasn’t just an engineer’s experiment, but something clinicians genuinely needed. My background was in product development, not neurophysiology, so having experienced practitioners willing to test and refine the concept was a gift. They shaped the direction far more than they probably realise.
HeadX began primarily as a concussion and cervical-assessment tool, but its reach has expanded. Every discussion with a clinician seems to uncover another unmet need. Recently, reading Roger Kerry’s new book, The Head and Neck: Theory and Practice, was another reminder of how broad this field really is. Nearly every chapter contained a line or concept that resonated with what we were trying to do — to help people regain precise, confident control of their head and neck movement.
The ethos has stayed the same: keep learning and keep improving. Since those early prototypes, we’ve added structured exercise wallcharts, developed a full training programme, and created advanced neurocognitive exercises for athletes. There’s plenty still under wraps, but the direction is clear — smarter, more accessible tools for clinicians, from the neck up.
HeadX has been a crash course in combining everything I already knew with everything I didn’t. I’ve learnt to build, to listen, and to communicate — and I’ve realised how crucial that last part is. A brilliant product is no use if no one hears about it. No business survives as a well-kept secret.
From that first hackathon in Sheffield to clinics and sports teams across the world, the journey has been unlikely but consistent: see a need, build something that helps, then make it better. That’s the whole story, really — and it still feels like the beginning.