Those of us who have worn eyeglasses forever — say from early elementary school — don’t have to worry much about where we set them down. If your uncorrected sight is as limited as mine is, you learn very quickly to put those babies in the same place every night.
The smallest of my dad’s wheelchairs isn’t especially wide, but it just barely makes it through the kitchen door in our 50 year-old-home. My dad visits us, but if he lived here, the narrow clearance would be a daily inconvenience. Because our walls are lathe-and-plaster, it would be painful, costwise and aesthetically, to widen the doorways by tearing them down.
A less-invasive, easier, and far less expensive alternative is to install offset door hinges. These z-shaped hinges allow the door to swing free of the frame, widening it by approximately 2 inches. They’ll usually replace existing hinges without modification; a little bit of chiseling may be necessary if the plates don’t match perfectly.
You can buy them at Dynamic Living (where you can also read some helpful comments) — local hardware stores may have them in stock as well.
Sally Young, a Blogger from the UK, has written a self-described “rant” about prosthetics. Sally lost a leg to cancer in 2005, and writes about the changes and events of her life since. Her real-life post about her own experience acquiring a prosthetic through the NHS (British National Health Service) is an interesting counterpoint to my post about high-tech comesis (specifically, silicone coverings for prosthetics) like the one used by Heather Mills. Sally’s Blog is called Out on a Limb: Life After Cancer; her article’s called Grrrr.
The son of the previous owners of my dad’s van used a Permobil power wheelchair, and they had installed a Permobil-specific EZ Lock system on the floor of the van. It’s simplicity itself: there’s a bracket on the van floor; a bdocking base attached to the bottom of the power wheelchair clicks into the bracket.
The other night when my husband was searching our bookshelves for a copy of Eros and Magic in the Renaissance (don’t ask), he found a copy of a marvelous book I’d picked up years ago. Handmade Helps for Disabled Living (by Stuart Grainger) is a compendium of ideas and projects designed to make living with various disabilities easier.
A few weeks ago, in celebration of National Nutrition Month (that would be March), one of the dietitians at my dad’s nursing home hosted a informational get-together for residents, staff and family members. I wasn’t sure what to expect — probably I had in mind some kind of a part-lecture, part-seminar type of thing — but it turned out to be more like a party than anything else. A party with a message — no, a party with several messages, only some of which turned out to be about nutrition alone.
While engaging in one of my least favorite activities the other day — bra shopping — a woman standing next to me began grumbling. She was having surgery next month, and her doctor — male — told her to pick up a front-opening bra. “Where am I going to find one of those?” she asked. “Any store,” he said.
Visits to a nursing home are a critical component of caring for a resident, and rewarding for everyone involved. There’s no denying, though, that they can be difficult as well. If the visits are daily, the difficulties compound — how do you make the time interesting rather than dull and repetitious? Conversation can falter, imagination fail. How do you make interactions mentally stimulating?
In Parts 1 through 7 of this series of posts, I’ve written about how I found and purchased my dad’s used wheelchair-accessible van. In this, the final article of the series, I explain how we anchor his chair in the van.
When coordination is difficult, whether from age, injury, surgery or a disability, playing can be the best medicine. These marble run sets are made of wooden blocks with grooves or holes. You stack and arrange the blocks so that marbles roll through them, practicing dexterity all the while.