Alzheimer's is a terrible disease. Cutting a neurological swath through the brain, it destroys memory and thinking, and leads, invariably, to death. But the process can take years. As the disease progresses and memories vanish, its victims lose identity, and families and friends are robbed of the loved ones they once knew.
The debilitating mental losses are accompanied by behaviors and impaired physical function that can turn even basic activities, like eating or bathing, into upsetting ordeals for patients and challenging tasks for caregivers. Some patients, for example, develop a fear of water. Some don't eat, because it is too overwhelming to choose among the foods on their plate. Those who do eat may forget to swallow.
The individual differences that we normally celebrate as human beings also can take a nightmarish turn with Alzheimer's, which follows an unpredictable path in each person it strikes. Some may have the urge to wander, moving constantly toward an unknown destination but never reaching it, making safety an issue of utmost importance. Others may not move or speak at all.
For now, doctors and scientists can only describe Alzheimer's frightening symptoms and effects as they work to find a cure for the 4.5 million Americans who have the disease. Without one, the Alzheimer's Association expects that number to rise to tragic levels over the next few decades, perhaps to as many as 16 million, particularly as the baby boomers pass age 65 when they will be at greatest risk for the disease.
Associated financial statistics are no less staggering. By 2010 — only five short years from now — Medicare costs for beneficiaries with Alzheimer's are predicted to reach $49.3 billion, and Medicaid expenditures on residential dementia care will rise to $33 billion. Those are, respectively, increases of 54 and 80 percent from 2000 figures.
Given these trends, it seems clear there is an increasing role providers might play in working with Alzheimer's patients, especially since seven out of 10 live at home. In the article we call “Cents & Sensitivity” (page 26), writer Denise McClinton explores various ways to reach and serve this rapidly expanding population, as well as that of bariatric patients and those with COPD.
While you might think otherwise, there is a true knowledge void among these consumers and, surprisingly, some health care professionals who counsel them, about home medical equipment and services. I assure you that both patients and caregivers are eager to learn about — and purchase — any products that can ease their lives. I speak from hard experience as my family participated in my father's agonizing, six-year struggle with Alzheimer's as a home-based patient.
To capture this growing market, positioning your company as a valuable resource not only for products but also for education can be a key strategy in influencing referral sources. And, assuming you do a good job of starting a dialog when patients or caregivers come in to make that first purchase, delivering this additional value can earn you years of repeat sales.
One other thing: If you or any of your employees are hanging on to the notion that “selling” equipment versus filling orders is too capitalistic, adjust that attitude right away. Diseases are devastating foes. Marketing to patient needs, whatever the diagnosis, is an opportunity that can only benefit your customers, and your business.
