Mom & Me Three Archive

...the solution for which might also generate a tidy sum of change: Mobility assistance devices for the Ancient and/or those suffering from dementia-lite (or, perhaps, even full blown dementia). Let me explain what I mean.
    Yesterday we did indeed purchase a claw-bottom cane (it goes by another name but the proper nomenclature escapes me, at the moment). The seller counseled us on its use, humored us with a good 45 minutes of Mom/cane practice before we decided to purchase it and I was able to extract an agreement that we would fool with it over the weekend and if we decided it was inappropriate for her we could return it for a full refund on Monday. Considering its reasonable price, despite what transpires this weekend we'll probably keep it but I asked for the return consideration because the one thing we don't need around here is yet another item that we don't use. We barely have room for the items we do use.
    My mother's first difficulty with the cane is a common one: She couldn't divest herself of the "natural" inclination to use the cane on the weak side of the body, despite the fact that, in explanation, she agreed that using it strength-with-strength made sense. As well, although she seemed to have a natural facility for when to lean on the cane she also is going to have to break the tendency to use it as a hiker would use a walking staff: Which is to say, her tendency is to carry the cane for a few steps then put it down at the wrong time and falter when she leans her weight on it. My concern, of course, is that, considering her whimsical short and long term memory loss, even with prodigious practice the use of it will never be natural for her and she and I will both become so frustrated with the necessity for her having to relearn how to use it every time she reaches for it that it will only render itself useful if and when she suffers a truly debilitating injury due to a fall and shows signs that she will heal (mostly) from it. As well, my mother will also have to be divested of the tendency to use it to arise from a sitting position, for which it is not designed.
    I didn't think to fill in the salesman on my mother's permanently but very slowly declining state of health before he began to explain the use of the cane. One of the aspects of both cane and walker usage that he highlighted was that these devices are designed to be used in order for the users to strengthen themselves and graduate out of the usage of mobility assistance devices. Although I should have guessed this from the way my mother uses such devices, I was astonished.
    "You know," I responded, "for all practical purposes, my mother is not going to 'get better'. She is 88, has a variety of chronic ailments which, while well controlled, will eventually take her out and she has periods of extreme lethargy studded with periods of what, for her, is hyper-physical-activity, so she simply isn't going to be graduating off these devices. If anything, there's the possibility, the gods forbid, that she may, if she suffers severe injury from a fall, 'graduate' to constant use of a wheelchair. Besides this, as you can see, she's a little on the light side mentally, now, and using these devices requires constant relearning and constant coaching."
    Before I had a chance to launch into an aren't-there-any query, the guy shrugged. He knew where I was heading. His shrug told me all I needed to know. I couldn't help but recall what MCF, who works with lots of old, disabled and demented people told me, "They all [use their walkers] that way. If you can use a walker correctly, you don't need one."
    In fact, when we visited the pharmacy after our cane session, a fellow who appeared to be in his late 60's/early 70's pulled into the handicapped parking space next to us used a walker. I noticed that he was quite facile with it and was doing all the things right that my mother was doing wrong. I decided to take the opportunity to ask him about his use of the walker, if he didn't mind. As is true of most people who use these devices, he didn't. It seems that he suffered a stroke "a while back" and was using the walker to help strengthen his muscles and reflexes and make it possible for him to once again walk unaided.
    When I commented that his technique with the walker was stellar, he replied, "Yup, I'm almost there. My doctor thinks I should be walking on my own in a month or so."
    I asked him about difficulties he might have had when he started using it.
    "Oh, I was all over the damn thing. I was a sight. Couldn't get out of the habit of pushing it, like your mother is. It still helped, it got me out, but it was a trial, at first."
    I thought about what he was saying while we discussed the features of his deluxe model with hand brakes, a basket, and a seat that could be retracted while the walker was in use.
    "I know this is going to sound confusing but I'm not sure how else to put it," I prefaced. "Did the walker help you use the walker better, or did you do something else to make it easier?"
    I guess no one had ever asked him about this. He thought a minute. "I see what you mean," he finally answered. "Nah, now that I think of it I'd have to say the better I got at my therapy exercises, the easier it was to use the walker the way it's supposed to be used."
    I thanked him and he shot off down one of the store aisles.
    So, here's the problem: Mobility assistance devices need to be invented that truly assist the permanently mobility challenged in the following ways:

1. They do no require the need to be learned in order to be used effectively. My mother's dementia-lite plight is not uncommon. As us baby boomers age it will become more common. The learning and training that current mobility assistance devices require needs to be dispensed with.
2. The devices need to be constructed so that they so easily work with the body's engineering and debilities that they truly assist movement, rather than require a whole set of new movements that are unnatural and, initially, at least in some cases (like my mother's), carry the risk of later discomfort and mild strain from the use of the devices.
3. They should all be extremely light, environmentally insignificant and extremely durable.
4. They should all work without batteries or some other power source besides the body.
5. They should be developed with the idea that their use will be permanent.
6. They should be absolutely mistake-proof. In other words, there should be no way to use them incorrectly to any purpose (like, for instance, my mother's desire to use the cane and the walker as rising assists).

    It's entirely possible that within the next century internal mobility assistance devices and procedures will be developed that restore normal movement while requiring no conscious awareness on the part of the user and can be safely implanted even in those who are now considered to be frail and to carry high surgery risks. This eventuality, though, will probably not manifest before many baby boomers are in need mobility assistance and have begun to mentally phase. In the meantime, the entire mobility assistance industry needs to stop shrugging their shoulders at the plight of the permanently mildly disabled with dementia and consider that making movement easier and mistake free for these customers will also benefit the industry.
    I have a hunch, too, considering the inventiveness of our species, that the solution is probably incredibly simple and can be cost effective to produce. So, is anyone out there up to the challenge?