The wheelchair tinkerer came yesterday and pimped my ride fixed my chair. New seat back, new cushion, and new arms. I feel so pretty! No more Hobocrip. I hadn't realized how badly I was slouching until I sat in my new seat. I grew three inches. It's so much better, and in truth, it's been a boon to my confidence to know that I don't look like a panhandling con artist and that I'm not going to fall through the seat back and tumble ass over teakettle down a steep embankment.
The refurbishing cost $574, and unless Medicare pitches a fit and tries to claim the cushion is a luxury-a likely scenario, the more I consider it-I'll be responsible for $107. It's a bite, but not as agonizing as I'd feared.
Medicare chaps my ass, and I'm not just being figurative. I don't understand how they can claim that is cushion is a luxury for someone who has no choice but to sit 16+ hours a day in the same position. The lack of movement and blood flow makes the buttocks susceptible to tissue breakdown, which, if left untreated, can lead to lesions, festering bedsores, and, in severe cases, gangrene and death. It's ugly, nasty, hideously painful, and expensive as hell.
Let's break it down:
Cushion that prevents tissue breakdown: $474
Hospital stay that tissues breakdown often warrants, including antibiotics, excising of necrotized flesh, constant dressing changes, and rehab: $20K
But the blob of gel costs too much. Right.
Then again, these are the boobs that have classified things like oxygen, insulin, and wheelchairs as "luxury items" according to Medicaid in the state of Tennessee.
Because no one needs to breathe, control their blood sugar, or get out of bed and contribute to the world around them. That's frivolity.
Asshats.
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