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“There are informal collections and distributions of equipment at local nonprofits and churches, but the Department of State Health Services has safety and cleanliness requirements, and no other [nearby] organization meets those,” he says.

The operation started out small, functioning three days a week out of an East Dallas warehouse. Dr. Pomarantz, a few volunteers, including longtime White Rock area resident Jim Waldorf, and a staffer named Rigo Rodriguez, who is licensed to repair and inspect DME, managed things at first.

To deliver equipment, they used a handicap-equipped van that belonged to Waldorf’s wheelchair-bound late father (it remains their only vehicle).

Certain equipment, such as hospital beds, must be delivered and set up by qualified technicians, thus the van is essential.

“When I read about what DME Exchange of Dallas was doing, I had to get involved. It was personal,” says Waldorf, a staunch DME Exchange advocate who recently retired from its board.

Because of his own father’s impaired mobility, and because he cared for his terminally ill spouse, Miriam, before her death two years ago, Waldorf understands how essential DME is to quality of life.

“If the person has the right equipment, it amounts to a level of human dignity,” he explains. “And it is a great relief for the caregiver.”

A group of faith-based outreaches called Dallas Area Interfaith (Temple Emanu-El, St. Rita Catholic Church and Temple Shalom), after researching and uncovering Dallas’ drastic need for DME, directed resources toward DME Exchange Dallas, which opened as a nonprofit in 2012.

The financial assistance provided by Dallas Area Interfaith helped launch the program, the founders say.

Thanks to DAI and other early supporters, DME Exchange was able to hire an experienced executive director, White Rock area resident Betty Hersey, who is the backbone of the operation today.

Hersey, who is trim and energetic, despite exhibiting a limp and using a cane, leads a brisk warehouse tour. She fractured a bone while playing with her grandchildren.

“I guess I am a walking advertisement for DME,” she quips.

She takes several phone calls in between showing various rooms of the 2,400 squarefoot DME Exchange facility.

There is the back area, a concrete garage where new equipment comes in. It includes a wall of tools that specialists use to repair, adjust and inspect donations. Next is the receiving room, where gloved volunteers armed with Microban Antimicrobial sanitizer disinfect equipment. Every piece of gear, every stage of refurbishment and each transaction is meticulously recorded in a database, partly in preparation for a twice-yearly state inspection. There are two clean rooms filled with hundreds of fully refurbished and sanitized items including walkers, crutches, canes and chairs, ready to be dispersed to clients who meet the criteria.

They must show a doctor’s prescription, poverty at 200 percent below the national level, and a gap in insurance coverage or no insurance, Hersey says.

Like Waldorf, Hersey has been the caregiver for a loved one with special needs. Her adult daughter Jenny has Down Syndrome. Lately Jenny has been refusing to speak, Hersey says, which is frustrating. But Jenny