Walkers + insurance co. = comedy!

We went shopping today for a rollator-transport wheelchair combo. (Actually had my wife "test drive" one, pushing me in the wheelchair. A first, probably not the last, but I think we both weathered the experience, and what it portends, reasonably well.)

The folks at the store were absolutely wonderful. We had so much fun talking to them! They were so nice!

And oh, the stories they told about working with insurance companies! Howls of derisive laughter!

For example, this combination device that I'm going to obtain, a "rollator" that can turn into a wheelchair that someone can push... well, it seems, the insurance companies usually won't pay for those.

No charge code for them, you see. Takes many years for the insurance companies to figure out what number to assign to a device, and these things have been out for what, only like four years now? Not nearly long enough for the insurance companies to figure out whether they're any good and worth paying for, much less how to classify them in their Sacred Charge Code systems. So, this one device that replaces two pieces of equipment, that is fantastically convenient both for me and for someone assisting me, that is light enough for one of my high-school students to fold up and tuck into the back seat of a car, that's easy to push and comfortable to sit in and will make a huge difference to my independence and happiness... they probably won't reimburse me for it because they can't figure out what number to file it under.

And it's insurance systems like this that our lawmakers are fighting to maintain, instead of permitting us to suffer under the evils of a single-payer system.

Some jokes write themselves... but even then, they aren't really the right kind of funny.

Four out of five

Well, let's see... physical therapy today, assessed some of my leg muscles as "four out of five, five being normal." When you drop to "three," you need leg braces. So, at four, on the border between "needs no help" and "needs a lot of help," it's no wonder I don't enjoy walking. At all.

The good news is that I can still walk. Sort of. Well, in the MS world, you take what you can get, right?

We're going shopping tomorrow for a rolling walker that can also convert to a "helper pushes you" wheel chair. God only knows if the insurance company will pay for it, or how many people who don't know me and who'll never meet me will need to be convinced that I actually need locomotion assistance in order to live what passes for a "normal" life, nowadays. (Actually, except for the walking and the fatigue, it's a pretty nice life, all in all.)

But... one battle at a time. Another lesson of MS.

Supermarket tribulations

So, partially because "I needed to get stuff" and partially because "#$#@$dammit, I'm going to go to the supermarket, myself, and do this, myself, just to prove that I still can," I hit the supermarket this morning to clear a short shopping list.

It was amazing how hard it was. Even with the rolling walker.

And it took forever.

Major-chain supermarket taxonomy... some "clever" internal department has tracked shoppers, and through some mysterious computation decided how to shelve their products, and how to label the aisles. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the elements in said computation was to encourage people to roam, so that their eyes are cast across lots o' products and thus generate lots o' sales.

I came to the store with a list of what, six? Eight items? I had to traverse the entire store, maybe forty yards long, at least four times. Going up and down aisles, scanning the shelves, looking for the six things I wanted because I couldn't tell where I might find them. I finally ran into someone who worked there (wasn't easy) and even after I found some assistance, I had to go from one end of the store to the other, twice. (Because although she was extremely nice and helpful, she didn't know where to find what I was looking for, either.)

Trader Joe's, a southern-California staple supermarket, is even worse. They rearrange the store. Weekly, it seems.

I'm sure nobody from Joe's or Vons is reading this, but just so's I can get it off my chest...

Have pity on those of us who can't walk so good. You're not creating sales by making us walk around and look at more and more products. You're eliminating sales.

Whole Foods is notoriously expensive. Purposelessly so, it seems sometimes. But their store--and their parking lot--is easily navigable. I can find things in Whole Foods immediately. Product doesn't wander overnight from place to place; if it was in place X last week, it's in the same place this week. So, Joe's and Vons, even though it costs me more to go to Whole Foods, I'll probably be shopping there more... because shopping there doesn't make me walk until it hurts.

Something to remember, for all of us who design systems... yeah, the system (whatever it does) may work beautifully for you, the designer or the enterprise who uses it, but if it makes the people it's inflicted upon suffer...

You suck. Go back to the drawing board. Try again; this time, more compassion, please.