Ladies and gentlemen, it has taken four years, one house move and two occupational therapists (one useless, one worth her weight in gold) but at long last we have a hoist!
Now, to the majority of normal human beings, the arrival of a piece of ceiling-mounted medical equipment does not light a fire of joy in their heart and soul….
I am not one of these people.
Until you’ve had to lift a child who can’t support their own body weight every day for over five years I’m not sure anyone would really understand the joy this hoist has brought.
It’s more like lifting a bag of potatoes weighing around 25Kg; he can’t help by holding on or using his core muscles, so it really is a dead weight.
Add in abnormal movements that he can’t control, seizures and the fact that he is a five year old child who does not always WANT to be lifted…. Yeah, you get the picture.
Day in, day out, this takes a huge toll on us physically.
On the advice of many parents who’ve gone before us we started the process of getting a hoist in place early on, when lifting Sam was still a doddle.
And thank God we did, because four years down the line we were starting to get pretty desperate for things to move forward!
Take a bow, OT #2 (aka one of the most wonderful people alive); after an interesting evening a week ago resulting in my being hospitalised overnight due to severe pain she went on the warpath and lo, days later this beauty was fitted in the front room.
Last night, for the first time in a year, I was able to lift my little boy off the floor and into his p pod.
No longer must his poor Dad do all the lifting, now we can both do so.
Sam was picking up that lifting was causing us pain and it made him feel less than safe – not anymore.
Now my boy is lifted in comfort and safety. And I can verily hear my spine singing with sheer relief x
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