A cadre of staff members. Each highly trained in their specialties. Armed with a stringent set of protocols to maximize efficiency and safety.
But also imbued with a deep sense of responsibility and devotion. Because in front of them stands not a customer or a client but a frail human being who is depending on them. And so when the unusual appears, they rise to the occasion because Ezer Mizion is not about filling orders. It is about people battered by life’s crises. People who need them.
Like the terminal cancer patient who was being driven by an Ezer Mizion ambulance driver from clinic to home. She made a casual remark about a beautiful lake. The driver put his own schedule on hold and detoured to a nearby lake allowing her to stay and enjoy as much as she liked.
Or the supervisor of a medical equipment branch who received a text saying that a wheelchair was ready. It was after hours. She was home already. But she knew how anxiously the boy was waiting for it so, keys in hand, she made her way back to work enabling the child to have it that night.
Hundreds of pieces of medical equipment stand in rows waiting to be loaned out to those who need them. An immense array of models, sizes, special features. Something perfect for everyone. Or almost everyone. A young boy arrives with his parents. They are desperate. A wheelchair will mean freedom. Freedom for the child. Freedom for the mother. Freedom for the whole family. The staff member smiles, anxious to help. He puts every ounce of his expertise into play. Model after model. But none are right for this child with his unusual short stature. It would be easy for him to conclude the meeting saying, “I am sorry but we can’t help you.” The family would slowly trudge out, in a black cloud of disappointment. ‘No!” he said to himself. If there is no suitable wheelchair, I’ll just have to create one. Once again, he painstakingly analyzed the boy’s very specific needs and the safety measures required. He customized. He adjusted. And soon the family walked out surrounded by a pink cloud of joy, the boy in a wheelchair tailored just for him.
A child has been receiving therapy for months. Insurance has covered the cost but that is now coming to an end. The physical therapist says her goodbyes and makes recommendations for certain exercises to be continued at home. Mommy nods her head vigorously. What parent doesn’t want the best for her child?
But then reality kicks in. “My home is not a rehab center. I don’t actually have a sequence of stools or a pull-out fitted walkway.
How do I cope? At the center the therapist used a ‘this’. Maybe I can manage with a ‘that’???” Her head is reeling with possibilities (none of them very good) for substitution for each exercise. She felt discouraged before she even started. All those hours lay ahead of her. All that effort. And such very mediocre results?
She was hardly listening any more as the therapist emphasized the importance of continuing therapy. Until she heard two words. Two words that blew away all the discouragement that had been welling up inside her. Two words that told her she would not be alone in this journey. “Call Ezer Mizion.” The therapist was saying.
“Ezer Mizion offers the loan of professional rehabilitation equipment for children and toddlers, from birth to 12: Senso-motor equipment, sensory equipment, stools, walkers, a variety of chairs, and everything children need to move forward towards rehabilitation. You’ll be in good hands.”
