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When creative minds work together day-by-day and side-by-side, they just can't help but brainstorm creative solutions for the rest of us. In this instance, a group of Weizmann Institute professionals are quietly revolutionizing the field of products for the physically challenged.
The men whose talents combine to make life easier for those in physical need are the former head of the Scientific Services Department, Danny Barak, together with a group of technicians, including Yaacov Saranga in planning and draftsmanship; Yoel Halaf in welding; Benyamin Dado in machining, and others.
The action takes place at the Institute's technical workshops. This is the address that oversees the planning, building and maintenance of the sophisticated equipment requirements of the Institute's 300 scientists. Since 1974, their abilities have also been applied to assisting the disabled world.
The project was born when an Institute neurologist made an informal request for a device to ease the life of one of his patients, a young man injured in the Yom Kippur War. It's continued on an ad hoc basis ever since. That's two decades of supplying hardware solutions to people's disability problems.
In 1995, Professor Haim Harari, President of the Weizmann Institute, formalized the arrangement, placed it under the auspices of Daniel Tamari, the head of the Research Services Division, and bestowed upon it a title, the Technology and Accessibility for the Disabled Project. Support for this dynamic, purposeful corner of the Institute is derived from special donor funding.
The assistive devices created within the project give the disabled the freedom of movement, comfort and protection most of us take for granted: a wand that allows the wheelchairbound to reach elevator buttons; a method that allows a person on crutches to simultaneously carry a small suitcase; an emergency fix-it kit that allows the blind to repair the all-essential guide stick and to reach home, safely; a fold-up rain shield that gives the physically challenged the ability to move from a car seat to a wheelchair without dampening the chair's seat cushion.
The group reworked a motion detector originally designed to deter burglars; in its second incarnation, it sits over the bed of an Alzheimer's patient in constant need of supervision. The device now alerts family members if the patient gets up during the night.
On several occasions the team has been asked to create a hospital call button for immobilized patients incapable of movement. In one case, they placed a wireless doorbell at the nurses' station linked to a small transmitter at the patient's bedside. Wired through a hollow tube with a micro-switch, it could then be activated by the war veteran with the tip of his tongue. These and other devices have resulted from their creative activity.
When asked, the understated gentlemen who make life more liveable are all humility; they claim their work is not complex. In fact, it takes a mighty amount of brainstorming to invent the innovative appliances. Yet these public-spirited problem-solvers simply shrug and explain that their investment of time and materials is minimal, and that the equipment and tools are already available in the well-equipped workshop.
Yet for the recipients, like an injured soldier paralyzed in war and assisted in his breathing through a tube placed at the base of his throat, calling a nurse could mean the difference between life and death.
Commercial product designers for the physically challenged deal with problems of the disabled in general, and may take years to develop a tailor-made product. For Messrs. Barak, Saranga, Halaf, Dado et al., addressing specific challenges is all in a day's work.
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