The Lift

The last time a social worker came to assess Dennis, she decided we needed a lift to help move Dennis from one place to another. Yesterday a representative came out to show us how it works, before he started the insurance paper work process.

"I hate it, I hate it, I hate it," Dennis yelled throughout his visit.

The man understood. He told me he generally gets that reaction from customers.

I ordered it, anyway, much to Dennis' chagrin. "It's for me, not for you," I told Dennis. I explained it was for my back, the PCA's backs and to help prevent any further bruising of my body.

"It's out of the dark ages! It's barbaric. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."

I do too. It's huge, it's a lot of work, it's ugly and it takes up too much room. However, I know even if we do not need it right now, we will need it soon. And since the wheels of government dollars runs so slowly, we should take it when it is offered, or we may not have it when we really do need it everyday.

If the days do not come when we need the lift, it will most likely mean Dennis isn't around anymore. I know enough about this disease to be assured that this will be the case. I don't mean to be maudlin or even discouraging, but it is a fact that Dennis isn't going to become easier to move and position as his disease progresses.

So, in a way, we are stepping back to the dark ages. We are dependent on what is available, and the lift is not the most innovative pieces of equipment I have seen. It's not computerized, it's not even operated by batteries. Some days we simply need to be grateful for what is at hand, even if it isn't up to our normal standards.

Until late,
Ann and Dennis


(View the video above if you want to see what this looks like and how it works.)