In the years since the enactment of the American’s with Disabilities Act (ADA) there have been some improvements made in the public’s sensibilities of the issues disabled individuals face. Everything from parking spaces to access is improved and the things that are not actually improved are at least on the radar. We have had many experiences of improved access or sheepish apologies because people are at least aware of the issues now.
Interestingly one of the places we have had the most difficulty is the hospital. Two separate hospitals, in fact. Why is it that there are seven disabled parking places in front of the supermarket but only three at the hospital. The second hospital has many disabled spaces but they are not wide enough to get a wheelchair unloaded. Isn’t it apparent that more people at a HOSPITAL will use a wheel chair than people in the general population? Also, haven't they figured out that an absence of steps does not automatically make things accessible? I hate to play enforcer of rules they already know.
When we were registering Maggie for her procedures the other day we had to go into Hospital admitting. It is a busy place with numerous chairs for patients waiting to be called into the cubicles for the admission process. There is room for Maggie’s chair, but she is inevitably blocking someone. That is no problem; we just roll her out of the way. Once called to the cubicles, it is more difficult.
The cubicle has a desk for the admissions person and two chairs for the patient and a companion. There is not much room for anything else. Especially not a wheelchair. As I tried to get in from the corridor, I automatically pulled one of the armchairs out of the way. The following dialogue ensued:
The admissions woman wagged her finger at me and, smiling, said, “NO don’t move that. She can wait in the hallway.” (“She” is Maggie.)
I said, “No she can’t” and continued. I thought she was concerned that I was going to the trouble, but that was not it. She did not want me messing with her chairs.
She said, (more insistent) “No. Leave that there.”
I looked up puzzled and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll put it back.”
She said again, “But she can just wait in the hallway.”
I said, with a bit more emphasis this time, “NO, She cannot. I have to be next to her to suction her.”
I proceeded to move the chair and put Maggie’s wheelchair in its place. The wheelchair is bigger and the cubicle was crowded.
She smiled thinly and said insistently, “The problem is I have to be able to get out.” At one point in the process, she would have to make copies of something.
Undeterred I continued situating Maggie and sat down in the other chair, looked directly at the woman, and said, “No, the problem is that Maggie’s the patient… (pause)… she needs to be admitted, and she needs attendant care. I will certainly move her so you can get by.”
Then I get the doe eyes and gentle correction for my impatience. “Wow, you’ve probably been here all day.”
I just smiled broadly and said, “Nope, we just arrived.” (The “You pissed me off” was inferred).
Admission went smoothly and she was able to get by the chair without any problem. (Whaaa??) I backed Maggie out of there, looked at her armchair in the corridor, looked at her, smiled and left.
She can put her own chair back.
Interestingly one of the places we have had the most difficulty is the hospital. Two separate hospitals, in fact. Why is it that there are seven disabled parking places in front of the supermarket but only three at the hospital. The second hospital has many disabled spaces but they are not wide enough to get a wheelchair unloaded. Isn’t it apparent that more people at a HOSPITAL will use a wheel chair than people in the general population? Also, haven't they figured out that an absence of steps does not automatically make things accessible? I hate to play enforcer of rules they already know.
When we were registering Maggie for her procedures the other day we had to go into Hospital admitting. It is a busy place with numerous chairs for patients waiting to be called into the cubicles for the admission process. There is room for Maggie’s chair, but she is inevitably blocking someone. That is no problem; we just roll her out of the way. Once called to the cubicles, it is more difficult.
The cubicle has a desk for the admissions person and two chairs for the patient and a companion. There is not much room for anything else. Especially not a wheelchair. As I tried to get in from the corridor, I automatically pulled one of the armchairs out of the way. The following dialogue ensued:
The admissions woman wagged her finger at me and, smiling, said, “NO don’t move that. She can wait in the hallway.” (“She” is Maggie.)
I said, “No she can’t” and continued. I thought she was concerned that I was going to the trouble, but that was not it. She did not want me messing with her chairs.
She said, (more insistent) “No. Leave that there.”
I looked up puzzled and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll put it back.”
She said again, “But she can just wait in the hallway.”
I said, with a bit more emphasis this time, “NO, She cannot. I have to be next to her to suction her.”
I proceeded to move the chair and put Maggie’s wheelchair in its place. The wheelchair is bigger and the cubicle was crowded.
She smiled thinly and said insistently, “The problem is I have to be able to get out.” At one point in the process, she would have to make copies of something.
Undeterred I continued situating Maggie and sat down in the other chair, looked directly at the woman, and said, “No, the problem is that Maggie’s the patient… (pause)… she needs to be admitted, and she needs attendant care. I will certainly move her so you can get by.”
Then I get the doe eyes and gentle correction for my impatience. “Wow, you’ve probably been here all day.”
I just smiled broadly and said, “Nope, we just arrived.” (The “You pissed me off” was inferred).
Admission went smoothly and she was able to get by the chair without any problem. (Whaaa??) I backed Maggie out of there, looked at her armchair in the corridor, looked at her, smiled and left.
She can put her own chair back.
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