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SNAFU: Situation
Normal – All Fixed Up
Journal of Healing – Nov. 29, 2006
By Mary Koch

Always expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. In fact, you’ll be downright thrilled when things go well.

Cynical? Nah. It’s how you survive if your life is enmeshed with the health care system, as ours has been for the 13 years since my husband was paralyzed by stroke.

A lot of the time – possibly most of the time – things go as they should. Lab reports don’t get lost, insurance benefits do get paid, doctors are not running two hours late for appointments. But if you begin to count on that, you let down your guard. You set yourself up for disappointment and frustration.

So when the Hoyer lift began to dribble oil onto our dining room floor, I knew I had to act quickly. I was mindful of the months and months of letter writing and red-tape weaving it took to replace John’s power wheelchair last year.

Our fix-it man pronounced the lift terminal with mere months of serviceable life remaining. It was second-hand and who-knows-how old when we got it 13 years ago.

The lift is essential for “transfers,” a frequent event in the daily life of a disabled person. You get “transferred” from bed to commode and back, in and out of the wheelchair, etc. These are the moments most likely to result in injury, both to the transferee and assistant.

* * *

AT THE rehab where John was a patient immediately after his stroke, all his transfers were accomplished with a “two-person lift.” It was an inelegant heave-ho, with one person grabbing the shoulders and the other the legs. Because the staff was perpetually short-handed, I was frequently one of the two persons. Transfers tended to be bumpy and scary.

After a few months of that, John moved to the University of Washington Medical Center. When it was time for his first transfer, the nurses wheeled in a metal contraption that looked like a miniature gallows. They slid a sling under John – something like a backyard hammock – attached it with chains to the rolling gallows, cranked John into the air and smoothly carried him from bed to wheelchair.

It was a “Eureka!” moment. I’d never seen such a thing and had been fretting over how I would transfer John once he came home. Hoyers were relatively rare around here 13 years ago, but I see them commonly used now at most hospitals and nursing facilities.

Learning how to use the Hoyer is a little nerve-wracking as your loved one swings to and fro, no matter how gingerly you guide the rolling lift. But I’m told the Hoyers are almost indestructible, at least until they start leaking their life-blood, the hydraulic oil.

* * *

I CALLED the doctor’s office for a Hoyer lift prescription Monday afternoon. The prescription was signed Tuesday morning, and then, I figured, we’d hurry up and wait for the slow grinding of the wheels of Medicare.

I was dumbstruck when, by noon that same Tuesday, there on our front porch stood Larry from Allied Medical with a shiny, new Hoyer lift. Yes, there was a stack of papers to sign, but that was quickly accomplished.

It was Medicare (not to mention the local service providers) at its best. To be fair, surveys do show that Medicare patients tend to be happier with the service they receive than patients with private insurance.

So am I changing my philosophy about expecting the worst? Absolutely not. If I got used to everything going right, then I’d forget to be thankful when it happens.

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