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e don’t just fit limbs, we fix lives, says Darryl Grobbelaar, founder of one of the country’s top orthotics and prosthetics practices. The Durban-based business, which started in a small office at the Kings Park Sports Medicine Centre, is now a high-end practice that compares with some of the best in London and New York. The difference, says Darryl, is that while those practices fit limbs that are reminiscent of science fiction robotics on a daily basis, their practice only supplies this once every four months. That’s because there’s a lack of funding for prosthetics in South Africa. “You battle to get the primary prosthesis funded. People are under the perception that medical aid will pay – but that’s not always the case. People also think you come in and buy a leg and you have it forever. What ends up happening is that the shape and volume of a residual limb constantly changes, and you have to adapt the prosthesis to ensure the fit remains right,” he says. Although the practice has fitted a number of sophisticated sporting blades, the practice has funded them all. This is in marked contrast with the US where military injuries have not only driven ultra-high tech advancements, but where amputees have access to these as a matter of course. One of the recipients was
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A PASSION FOR OFFERING LIFECHANGING SOLUTIONS TO HELP PATIENTS RESTORE THEIR LIVES IS WHAT DRIVES GROBBELAAR & CASS, WRITES SHIRLEY LE GUERN
INSPIRATION triathlete Mhlengi Gwala. Brutally attacked by men wielding a chainsaw while out cycling in 2018, he ultimately lost the bottom portion of his right leg. Darryl and his partner, Luvan Cass, have supplied limbs suited to running, cycling and training in the gym and are celebrating his successes as a talented para-athlete who is working towards qualifying for the Paralympics. “But we also have everyday heroes – a woman who has a disabled child and deals with an above-knee amputation. Her prosthetic limb enables her to plant food for her family at home. Another of our patients – who also cannot afford expensive prosthetics – just wants a hook on the end of his arm so he can plant food and do a bit of woodwork. That’s true inspiration. These are
the people who have almost nothing, but they just try to get on with life,” Luvan explains. Darryl continues: “It’s easy if you can drive here in your Mercedes and park in the disabled parking. But what about the guy who has to travel from more than 300km
People are under the perception that medical aid will pay – but that’s not always the case away? The taxi that was meant to depart at 5am is only full enough to leave at 9am and he arrives in the afternoon for his morning appointment. Then he has to walk all the way. His foot
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breaks and he’s walking on a pole by the time he gets here.” Often Darryl and Luvan help those patients sleep over at a local bed and breakfast rather than sending them home to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. That’s because, they explain, theirs is more of a calling than a profession. It is about creating relationships and building trust with patients who are struggling with both the physical and psychological impacts of their injuries. Darryl’s own grandfather was an amputee and probably the reason why, after being a military diver for four years, he decided to study and then open his own one-man practice. He saw patients in the morning and manufactured prosthetics in his loft at home at night.
