Despite growing societal awareness and an increased focus on accessibility, there is still a significant gap in services available to people with disability. I have always believed that we live in an ableist world, and recent events continue to reinforce this for me, especially when I start to feel a spark of hope. Lately, I have become particularly fixated on the lack of assistive equipment in our medical centres, after struggling to find clinics with a hoist to assist me during medical appointments.
In 2016, I made the conscious decision to stop weight-bearing, choosing to prioritise the safety of both my support workers and myself. For those who are not familiar with the term, “weight-bearing” refers to the ability to support your own body weight while transferring. Until that point, I had been able to transfer myself from my wheelchair to a clinic bed with assistance, so I had not needed a hoist, and as a result, had not fully felt the weight of inaccessibility in these spaces.
From 2016 to 2023, I did not have any medical appointments where I required a hoist. However over the past year, I have had two appointments where a transfer from my chair was necessary. One of these was for an x-ray. I called several clinics in search of an accessible one, and it was no easy task. This experience left me feeling frustrated. How was it possible that an X-ray clinic would not have the appropriate resources to meet the needs of the clients who require medical care? It is no longer enough to simply build a ramp or include an accessible bathroom. Correction, it never has been. True accessibility is not just about ticking boxes or meeting minimum standards, it is about creating spaces that people with disability can navigate, use, and feel welcome in every aspect.
Accessibility needs to be woven into the very foundation of how spaces are designed, from the layout to the services they offer, especially within the medical industrial complex. Without this mindset, we will continue to see situations where people like myself struggle to find basic accommodations, like hoists in a medical centre. These are not just inconveniences, they are crucial oversights that perpetuate a cycle of exclusion with implications for serious harm to people with disability.
In early February, I developed a pressure sore on my bottom and knew I needed to have it checked by a doctor. I called multiple medical centres, but none had a hoist available to assist me. Even worse, none could recommend a place that did. After that dead end, I reached out to Nurse on Call, but after providing my details for a follow-up, I never heard back. I then tried searching for a community nurse but could not find any information about these services.
In a moment of frustration, I thought about taking photos of the sore in the hope that I could get some assistance that way. I visited my usual GP clinic but had to see a different doctor. Unfortunately, they could not identify the issue and suggested I go to the emergency department at the hospital. Both my worker and I found this to be a ridiculous suggestion because we knew we would likely be turned away, even if we tried.
Eventually, my mum suggested Bolton Clarke, a provider of home-care services. Even so, it still took them over a week to send someone to see me. By that point, my anxiety was growing, as pressure sores can escalate quickly if not addressed.
In the end, I was fortunate that one of my workers, who had previously worked in an aged care facility, was able to help. She had experience with pressure sores from working with elderly people, and I am not sure how bad it could have gotten without her intervention. The reality is though, that dealing with these kinds of issues is outside the scope of most of my support workers. This should be the responsibility of the medical system and health professionals. While I am grateful for the help I received, I am also horrified that this was the outcome. By the time Bolton Clarke was due for their visit, the pressure sore had healed. I kept this appointment though, thinking it would be easier to get a home visit next time if I was already in their system. This may just be wishful thinking.
Hoists are essential for some people with disability. They minimise the risk of injury for both patients and caregivers, while promoting independence and preserving dignity. For some people, a hoist is the only way they can be safely moved. People with disability often attend more medical appointments than most, so accessible assistance should be not just available, rather it should be a standard feature, especially in our medical centres. The failure of medical centres excluding these resources in the first place points to a broader pattern of neglect and harm.
My Occupational Therapist who has joined my team since this experience, has given me the details for a wound nurse and advised me to contact them if I ever feel another pressure sore coming on. I did not even know there were specialised services like these, which is yet another huge indictment on our healthcare system. Why does it appear that only allied health professionals who primarily work with people with disability, know about these kinds of services? It’s not good enough.
With all the strides made in “inclusivity” from the broader able-bodied community, there are still so many barriers preventing this unity. Medical institutions that claim to prioritise safety continue to fail in providing fundamental services, perpetuating a system that is not just inaccessible but it is also unsafe. If actions speak louder than words, it is obvious that the world does not care about people with disability.