Ook beschreven in het :
“Again, my apologies it took so long,” the Disability Service guy says, when I let him in.“Ah well,” I answer. In November we ordered a special neck support system for Ties’ wheelchair. It’s April now. Something went wrong with the order, but that is probably not the mans fault. It is never anyone’s fault. And anyway, the thing has arrived.
Ties is home from school, watching Pat and Mat, his favorite show featuring animated clay dolls with a love for drilling, hammering and sawing. Everything these not-so-handymans undertake, ends in total chaos and destruction, much to my sons delight.
We’re waiting for the supplier who will mount the neck support system on the spot.
“So,” I break the silence “How are you doing?”
“It’s hectic!” the man sighs, “Cutbacks, you know. The same amount of work, but less people. It’s hard to get anything done. You’ve seen for yourself how difficult it is to even schedule an appointment. “
“Ah well,” I answer.
When the doorbell rings, we’re both relieved.
The supplier, a young man with a big toolbox examines the system plus accessories.
Then he looks up: “How many of these did you order?”
“One,” says Disabilty Service guy. “Why?”
“I need two.”
“Oh.”
I take a slightly too hot sip of my coffee.
“Wait,” the supplier discovers, “I have another one in the car!”
Disability Service guy nods at me, reassuringly.
The men get to work. Once positioned, I’m amazed how good the headrest works. Finally Ties will no longer bend over all the time with his head on his knees. He’ll be able to participate more actively in class and his drooling will also be minimilized. This was well worth the wait!
They tinker a while with the wheelchair.
A long silence follows.
“Uhm. Ma’am? We have kind of a challenge here.”
“The headrest actually doesn’t fit on this wheelchair.”
“This is strange,” Disablilty Service guy says, flipping nervously through his notes. “This is so strange. I’m sure we measured it correctly the last time.”
We discuss the options. Disabilty Service guy jots down everything we say. The only solution appears to be a new appointment, this time with the wheelchair manufacturer present: “We don’t want to do things twice, or reinvent the wheel, now do we?”
“We’ll be in touch as soon as possible,” the men promise when we say our rather uncomfortable goodbyes. After they’ve left, I join Ties in the living room. On screen, Pat and Mat stare at us in bewilderment, through a huge self-inflicted hole in their wall.