In the news today, Medicare is proposing that payment be made for
only ONE artificial limb set in an amputee’s lifetime. What Medicare does, private insurance
companies follow. I have not seen any details,
like the age when one becomes an amputee – just a blanket one per lifetime. While indeed expensive, many amputees
consider artificial limbs a medical necessity, much like diabetic supplies or
catheters. To an amputee, they are not totally
optional, and new ones are needed as one grows.
I know there are some awesome artificial limbs created today – not
only those which allow basic function but those which allow sports and dancing,
etc. – individualized to allow as much “normalcy” as possible. Again, limbs are very expensive. Still, there is a current, ongoing debate as
to whether or not they should be considered a luxury.
As a high double leg amputee, my experience with artificial limbs
was just for basic walking. No frills,
just function. As you will see below, my
journey was difficult and expensive.
The sights, sounds and smells of a prosthetics office are
unmistakable. I can still smell the
fiberglass – a strong, distinctive odor that many consider offensive. I spent lots of time in such an office. During my appointments, I could watch workers
sawing, cutting, sanding, or polishing the limbs they were creating. Their hands, faces and aprons were totally
covered in a white powdery material that misted from them as they moved. And that smell. No mistaking that smell – over-powering and never
changing.
I remember well my appointments at the “Missouri Valley Brace
Shop.” I can still see my prosthetist. I always had the same one. He was an elderly (to me!) man with a very
kind face, soothing words, and gentle hands.
He was always, always covered in the fine white powder from head to
toe. While it looked white, his full-length
apron was gray. His face, hands and hair
were also white except where he had been wearing goggles. A cloud of white dust
traced his every move. He was so
soft-spoken you could barely hear him. He
was very kind and gentle as he molded plaster around me – a cradle to sit in to
which my left leg would be attached.
Eventually, I was totally covered in hardening plaster from the waist
down. As I lay on the hard table, I slowly
felt entombed as the plaster warmed, hardened, and tightened. I knew I could not move or it would cause them
to start over. I worried every time
about how they would get the cast off. I
fretted that the loud “saw” they used would slip and cut right through me. Eventually my “cast” was cut down one side and
I wiggled out of it. Manufacture of my
artificial limbs could now begin.
I had several ‘dates’ with the prosthetics office, but at the age
of 9, it was decided that my artificial limbs should be taller because clearly
a 9-year-old was taller than a 3-year-old. My limbs would now bend in the
middle just like a real knee. They would
be somewhat more cosmetic too, especially since I was a girl.
When I returned for a fitting, adjustments were made with black
marking pens, loud shavers and saws. The
brand-new white straps and buckles, not yet showing any sign of wear, were
tightened around me. Half of me was now
artificial. It was hard to imagine how I
would move them, let alone walk in them. I was convinced that these ‘bendable stilts’ were
dangerous and that I would fall a lot. Nonetheless, they stood me up and gave me
crutches. Being taller was a completely new
experience. The floor was so far away.
They took me to a room with a long rubber mat on the floor, going
from one end of the room to the other.
There were railings on both sides of this ramp and mirrors at either
end. An attendant held onto a white
sheet tie placed around my waist to prevent a fall. My soft-spoken prosthetist watched each step,
carefully watching for signs of rubbing or irritation. When he was happy with the fit, I began a
3-month hospital stay during which I learned to walk in them.
I wore artificial limbs for most of my childhood and they served
me well but when I began a more independent life, they soon became impractical. This was the beginning of my life in a
wheelchair.
I also had an artificial arm for a short time when I was about 3. Apparently, however, I used it more as a
weapon to my younger siblings, so it was taken away. I tried an arm again in my early 20s but for
me, I could function better without it.
Manufacture of artificial limbs has advanced drastically in
function, cosmesis and cost since my experience. In fact, it amazes me what is done today. Maybe if I were younger… The process of achieving a perfect fit is still
tedious but eventually artificial limb(s) become an integral part of an
amputee.
Had I continued with artificial limbs, I would have needed many updates. I
would have wondered why had my insurance company not covered this medical need
of mine.
This controversial debate is ongoing right now. Let’s help the insurance companies make the right
decisions. Let’s help them establish parameters
that will work for both sides. They need
to hear our concerns and understand better the needs of an amputee.
Send me your comments below.
I believe our conversation will be helpful to those tasked with making
these important decisions.
