When I look back on my experience as a caregiver and as a patient, I recall numerous stories of jury-rigging a situation so that my father and I could accommodate my mother’s physical challenges. My father will vividly recount the hours he spent researching wheelchairs, patient lifts, door hinges, intercom systems, portable ramps, female urinals, and the indispensable bedpan, known more colloquially as a “piss pot.”
To be sure, standardization in design offers certain elegance when it comes to a company’s bottom line. After all, mass production often equates to profits. But, there exists no better contribution to one’s own “bottom line” than a comfortable bedpan—and yes, they do exist!
Tammy's Tip: Check out Allegro Medical Supply for good product designs.
Clearly, I’m touting personal experience here. I helped my bed bound mother use a bedpan on a daily basis for nearly 17 years. On an even more personal note, I used one myself following an emergency appendectomy when I was in my early 20s. All the more reason I was struck by the antiquity of design during my recent trip to the pharmacy.
Now, there are bedpans and then there are bedpans. They are made from a variety of materials, including metals, glass or plastic. Plastic is more popular for home use. Bedpans also come in a variety of shapes and sizes. A European style looks like an oversized cooking pot with a long handle. Then, there’s the traditional oval style which reminds me of an episode from the popular television series, “M.A.S.H.”
More recently, an ergonomic style of bedpan was introduced by Cleanius. It looks like something out of a Star Trek episode, and boasts a design that offers privacy, reduced stress and odor, and less juggling for men who often require a urinal with the traditional bedpan.
Well, men may have their own challenges when it comes to using a traditional bedpan, but we can all relate to the immediate hours of discomfort that follow any lower abdominal surgery. One doesn’t want to cough, sneeze, or roll over, anticipating the shockwaves of pain that will accompany such an act. Foregoing the dignity issues involved (because that’s a story all by itself!), I do not know of a bed pan that would not require patients to bend their knees, secure traction with their feet, and use their stomach muscles to lift the lower back, in order for the bedpan to slip into the proper position.
Herein rests my main quandary. Twenty years later while scanning the shelf at the pharmacy, I took note of high-tech walking canes, crutch pads, bed pads, shower chairs, urinals for men and women—all helpful products. On the top right shelf, however, was a sleek looking bedpan with advertising boasting easy clean-up, strong construction, and the number of liters the receptacle would hold. The designers overlooked the comfort factor altogether. The four-inch high sides of this standard design require bent knees, lifting of the “bottom line,” more commonly referred to as bridging, and an arched back—none of which consider the comfort or pain-level of the patient. Where is the sensitivity in design?
Fortunately, there have been some movements by engineering designers to improve on healthcare aids. My personal favorite is the “slipper foot” or “fracture” bedpan, tapered with a wedge that allows the patient to find a comfortable position with few worries about having ample room in the receptacle. Clearly, Cleanius is putting some thought into their design, but how can we encourage other designers and engineers to do the same?
“Spark Innovation Through Empathic Design,” written in 1997 by Dorothy Leonard and Jeffrey F. Rayport for the Harvard Business Review, was one of the few reports available on the internet that addresses the need for business to survey and listen to customers. “Sometimes, customers are so accustomed to current conditions that they don’t think to ask for a new solution,” writes Leonard and Rayport. “Consider how subtle are preferences of smell and sound, yet car manufacturers can design automobile interiors to evoke the specific scent of expensive leather that U.S. buyers expect in a luxury vehicle.”
Well, now why can’t we give this attention to healthcare aids? This technique is called “Empathic Design,” and while many leading corporations employ these techniques in their research and development, Empathic Design still is not common practice. Leonard and Rayport indicate that unless a current product exists in the marketplace, one that “embodies at least the most primitive form of a new product, consumers have no foundation on which to formulate their opinions.”
In my experience, consumers who are dealing with healthcare issues and challenges have little energy left to solve their immediate problems, let alone change an industry. Still, a tidal wave of consumers with special needs is looming on the horizon. This consumer base will be looking for products that give them a positive experience. Simple communication about what’s working and what’s not will be the dividing line between successful businesses and those that fail. After all, this just isn’t about bedpans. It’s about everyone’s bottom line.
Clearly, I’m touting personal experience here. I helped my bed bound mother use a bedpan on a daily basis for nearly 17 years. On an even more personal note, I used one myself following an emergency appendectomy when I was in my early 20s. All the more reason I was struck by the antiquity of design during my recent trip to the pharmacy.
Now, there are bedpans and then there are bedpans. They are made from a variety of materials, including metals, glass or plastic. Plastic is more popular for home use. Bedpans also come in a variety of shapes and sizes. A European style looks like an oversized cooking pot with a long handle. Then, there’s the traditional oval style which reminds me of an episode from the popular television series, “M.A.S.H.”
More recently, an ergonomic style of bedpan was introduced by Cleanius. It looks like something out of a Star Trek episode, and boasts a design that offers privacy, reduced stress and odor, and less juggling for men who often require a urinal with the traditional bedpan.
Well, men may have their own challenges when it comes to using a traditional bedpan, but we can all relate to the immediate hours of discomfort that follow any lower abdominal surgery. One doesn’t want to cough, sneeze, or roll over, anticipating the shockwaves of pain that will accompany such an act. Foregoing the dignity issues involved (because that’s a story all by itself!), I do not know of a bed pan that would not require patients to bend their knees, secure traction with their feet, and use their stomach muscles to lift the lower back, in order for the bedpan to slip into the proper position.
Herein rests my main quandary. Twenty years later while scanning the shelf at the pharmacy, I took note of high-tech walking canes, crutch pads, bed pads, shower chairs, urinals for men and women—all helpful products. On the top right shelf, however, was a sleek looking bedpan with advertising boasting easy clean-up, strong construction, and the number of liters the receptacle would hold. The designers overlooked the comfort factor altogether. The four-inch high sides of this standard design require bent knees, lifting of the “bottom line,” more commonly referred to as bridging, and an arched back—none of which consider the comfort or pain-level of the patient. Where is the sensitivity in design?
Fortunately, there have been some movements by engineering designers to improve on healthcare aids. My personal favorite is the “slipper foot” or “fracture” bedpan, tapered with a wedge that allows the patient to find a comfortable position with few worries about having ample room in the receptacle. Clearly, Cleanius is putting some thought into their design, but how can we encourage other designers and engineers to do the same?
“Spark Innovation Through Empathic Design,” written in 1997 by Dorothy Leonard and Jeffrey F. Rayport for the Harvard Business Review, was one of the few reports available on the internet that addresses the need for business to survey and listen to customers. “Sometimes, customers are so accustomed to current conditions that they don’t think to ask for a new solution,” writes Leonard and Rayport. “Consider how subtle are preferences of smell and sound, yet car manufacturers can design automobile interiors to evoke the specific scent of expensive leather that U.S. buyers expect in a luxury vehicle.”
Well, now why can’t we give this attention to healthcare aids? This technique is called “Empathic Design,” and while many leading corporations employ these techniques in their research and development, Empathic Design still is not common practice. Leonard and Rayport indicate that unless a current product exists in the marketplace, one that “embodies at least the most primitive form of a new product, consumers have no foundation on which to formulate their opinions.”
In my experience, consumers who are dealing with healthcare issues and challenges have little energy left to solve their immediate problems, let alone change an industry. Still, a tidal wave of consumers with special needs is looming on the horizon. This consumer base will be looking for products that give them a positive experience. Simple communication about what’s working and what’s not will be the dividing line between successful businesses and those that fail. After all, this just isn’t about bedpans. It’s about everyone’s bottom line.
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