I enter the medical supply store to pick up a walker in advance of my upcoming surgery. No one greets me as I approach the counter on crutches.
A clerk is chatting with another employee about their weekend. No one is attending to customers.
The clerk finally acknowledges me, and I explain why I am there. She asks me to come over to another counter, where she is standing, though I am on crutches and it would be easier for her to come to me.
I walk over to her, and she explains that insurance may not cover my walker. I tell her I will pay cash.
She says “No” and insists I fill out paperwork to potentially receive insurance coverage. This paperwork includes a permission form asking my PCP for verification of need, a disclosure stating that I know I may need to pay out of pocket, and various other forms asking for demographic information.
I say again that I would rather pay cash.
The clerk insists it is worth the attempt to apply for coverage.
I am in pain and tired of waiting and wading through all of these steps to get a $20 walker. I choose the simplest one and pay.
I walk out of the medical supply store carrying my walker while maneuvering my crutches.
As they watch me struggle, no one offers to open the door.
* * * * * *
At the time the incident above occurred, I had been on crutches for seven months and was temporarily disabled. I was between hip surgeries, was unable to walk without support, and was in constant pain.
Most of my experiences during that time were amazing. Many people offered help, including strangers at grocery stores who would load my groceries for me and return my cart without being asked.
My experience at the medical supply store, though, was eye-opening. I thought about those who are chronically disabled—how stressful it must be to navigate appointments, equipment, medications. I would hope that most of those who provide such services would show more compassion than I was shown during the incident above.
Susan Miller
Fort Collins, Colorado