Elma Dandić, Blagaj, Bosnia & Herzegovina
I want to be the voice of people with disabilities
Author: Elma Dandić
The local community where I come from is known as Blagaj. This small suburban settlement is home to a single clinic, which is open to all residents irrespective of their nationality, sexual orientation, and political or religious beliefs. However, the family medicine clinic is currently not operating efficiently in its original state, failing to adequately meet the diverse medical and healthcare needs of its users and patients.
As I pen this narrative, I find myself expressing not just events but also a part of my identity. I am a young woman, but I also happen to have a disability. However, the phrase “person with a disability” is not commonly used. Unfortunately, my local clinic falls short in providing me with the comprehensive medical and healthcare services I desire and require, particularly as a woman with a physical disability, specifically a shortened right leg.
As I reflect on both the positive and negative aspects of the family clinic’s role in primary healthcare in Blagaj, I must acknowledge its vital and beneficial presence. However, it is imperative to duly attend to the specific needs of individuals with disabilities, encompassing not solely the adverse facets. For those with disabilities, this entails the mitigation of architectural obstacles and the assurance of extensive accessibility and entry points. In my case, as someone with a singular physical disability, I can attest that the access and entrance aspect does not pose a problem, as I am physically capable of managing it. However, it is essential to recognize that if I were to transition to using a wheelchair, crutches, or a prosthesis in the future, this aspect remains unresolved and necessitates attention.
The reception counter at the clinic is not adequately accessible for individuals with disabilities. We also face a shortage of healthcare workers and doctors proficient in sign language. Moreover, there are no audio cues for the visually impaired, no specially adapted toilets for individuals with disabilities, no manual addressing the needs of working with people with disabilities, no dental clinic, and no psychologist available. There are instances when I enter the doctor’s office and witness the absence of chairs, stretchers, or any other medical equipment tailored to the requirements of individuals with disabilities, which can be disheartening.
My mind is filled with both heartwarming anecdotes and poignant memories that evoke a sense of nostalgia and disappointment. Among them, I recall a paradoxical yet all too real situation within the healthcare sector. At the tender age of eight, I required dressing changes at my local clinic following seven months of wearing an Ilizarov frame—a leg extension device also called a fixator. Regrettably, even after receiving treatment and care at the Military Hospital in Sarajevo, I struggled to find an orthopedic specialist or medical professional in Blagaj or even Mostar who was familiar with the concept of a fixator. They would often remark, “We never performed such procedures in Mostar,” or in Blagaj, “We lack the knowledge on how to dress a fixator, as it wasn’t practiced even during the war period.” This left me feeling deeply sad, isolated, and acutely aware of the challenges I faced at a young age.
It was my father who then took on the responsibility of performing the dressing changes for me, and I had access to essential supplies at my local clinic, including iodine, hydrogen peroxide, Rivanol, bandages, gauze, and medical adhesive. However, I did not receive the essential services and support from doctors and medical staff that were necessary. I no longer harbor anger, but rather a deep sense of disappointment, betrayal, and isolation. I witness negligence, a lack of knowledge, and inadequate accessibility. I observe the actions that should have been taken, but unfortunately were not.
My medical records remain incomplete due to limited knowledge and a lack of coordination within the healthcare system, which hampers the comprehensive overview and documentation of my medical history. Furthermore, I encounter doctors who are not always well-versed in the necessary medical topics and terminology crucial for addressing the unique needs of a young woman with a physical disability. Currently, my greatest disappointment lies in the working hours of my local clinic, which only operates in two shifts. The first shift runs from Monday to Friday, starting at 8 a.m. and concluding at 2 p.m., while the second shift operates merely three days a week, beginning at 2 p.m. and ending at 7 p.m. These restricted shifts are determined by the specific settlements within my local community, leading to inadequate coverage that fails to meet the healthcare demands of the population, particularly for individuals with disabilities.
It would be of immense significance for the clinic to operate around the clock, 24 hours a day. I often find myself hesitant to travel and visit the Emergency Department in Mostar, as I firmly believe and know that my local clinic would be fully capable of providing the necessary care and assistance with just a bit of additional human resources and support. I am determined not to have my story merely echo the narratives that were written just for the sake of being written. Instead, I aspire to raise my voice and share as much as my education, knowledge, and personal experience allow regarding the lives of individuals with disabilities. This is particularly important because it directly reflects and impacts my own life. I do not wish to solely dwell upon distressing and disheartening situations. I yearn to shed light on the lives of people with disabilities, which may differ in some aspects but are ultimately very similar to those of anyone else in my community. I witness this truth as I write about my local clinic in this manner. My intention is not to write merely to be “heard,” but to genuinely be heard and have the voices of people with disabilities acknowledged and respected.I am not defined solely by a diagnosis or a medical condition; I am more than that, encompassing a multitude of experiences and perspectives. I yearn for a transformative change to take place within my local clinic.
My clinic stands as more than a mere descriptor; it serves as a poignant symbol for the pressing need for transformative and profound change within the society I presently inhabit. To me, my local clinic embodies a living entity, one that breathes and exists in a distinct yet strikingly relatable manner. Our paths intertwine, as we rely on one another, yet we are bound by certain freedoms, regulations, and principles that must be upheld and adhered to.
At the most fundamental level, within the intricate realm of cells and atoms, there exists a universal essence characterized by a singular principle and pattern. This essence manifests itself in the recognition that nothing surpasses the intrinsic worth of human freedom and the profound appreciation for fundamental human rights, particularly in the context of individuals with disabilities. My aspiration is for my local clinic to transcend its current state of crowded schedules and erratic shifts and evolve into an institution that truly serves the needs of all individuals, including myself and others.