DIY Pest Control Review
Family-run pest supply house since 1982: pro products from $12.97, free lower-48 shipping, 4.4 stars on 4,500+ Trustpilot reviews — but you pay return shipping, and delays top complaints.
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Dignity Lifts makes exactly one category of product: electric lifts that raise and lower you on and off the toilet, so that the hardest part of using the bathroom — standing back up — doesn’t end independent living. Press the button and the seat lowers you down; press it again and it lifts you back to standing, taking your weight instead of your knees, your grab bars, or your caregiver’s back. The company’s motto is “Stand up, for yourself,” and the entire catalog is variations on that single idea.
The corporate story is more interesting than the category suggests. Dignity Lifts was built as a division of PriveCo Inc., a Michigan e-commerce company founded in 1998 by Tom Nardone that built its name selling products people find embarrassing to buy in person. Toilet lifts fit that thesis exactly: a high-need, low-glamour product for customers the mainstream mobility industry tends to treat as an afterthought — the company’s about page says it is “actually proud to help our customers” in a segment others overlook. The business started in Troy, Michigan, about 10 miles north of Detroit; as of July 2026 the published contact address is 10725 Harrison Rd., Suite 100, Romulus, Michigan 48174, with a listed phone number (248-525-3372), and Michigan records show a Dignity Lifts LLC registered in Clarkston. One recent change worth knowing: PriveCo’s own page states that as of May 2026 it “no longer owns the Dignity Lifts brand and company” — the brand was acquired by another company, which PriveCo does not name, and now operates as DignityLifts LLC. The site, catalog, and contact details continue unchanged, and the brand’s products are carried by established third-party mobility dealers — MobilityWorks, Rehabmart, DME of America, Top Mobility, Premier Bidets, and others — which is meaningful, because dealer networks vet suppliers in ways one-page storefronts never face.
One framing note before the details: this is mobility equipment, not medical treatment. A toilet lift doesn’t treat any condition — it performs a mechanical function, raising and lowering a seated person — and this review evaluates it on that basis: what it costs, how it’s built, what the buying terms are, and what actual customers report as of July 2026.
The range is five models (a sixth, the Commercial CL1 for care facilities, was sold out at research time), and the differences between them are concrete and published.
Deluxe DL2 — the flagship. The DL2 delivers 14 inches of lift — the most in the line — moving from fully seated to standing in about 20 seconds, with a 300 lb capacity. It runs on a rechargeable battery that lasts roughly a month per charge (the company’s own test data: 210 full cycles for a 280 lb user, 300 cycles for a 150 lb user), recharges in about 4 hours, works plugged in, and keeps working through power outages. Controls sit on both sides so either hand can operate it while the other grips the handlebars, and a wireless remote lets a caregiver run the lift from a distance. Hip room is 19.5 inches between the handles, and it fits toilet bowls from 14 to 18.5 inches tall. A “chute”-style seat design is meant to keep cleaning simple, which matters more in this category than in any other.
Basic BL1 — the budget option. The BL1 keeps the 300 lb capacity but drops to 9 inches of lift over 26 seconds, has no battery — it stays plugged into a GFI outlet — and uses a wired remote. It stands on four wide feet with dual lifting actuators and fits 16-18 inch bowls. The $500 saving versus the DL2 buys less lift height, slower travel, and outlet dependence; it’s the right call only if the user needs a modest boost and the outlet is already there.
XL1 — the bariatric lift. A 650 lb capacity from four lifting actuators and four parallel 4-bar linkages, 9 inches of lift in 26 seconds, 25 inches between handles, removable arms for transfer space, wall power. The company is refreshingly blunt about one limit: the strongest commercial toilet seat it could source is rated to 450 lb, so users between 450 and 650 lb may need to remove the plastic seat and sit on the painted metal platform. Very few manufacturers publish that kind of caveat; it builds more trust than it costs.
Bidet Toilet Lift WL2 — lift plus hygiene. Essentially the DL2 lift geometry (14-inch lift, ~20 seconds, 300 lb, 14-18.5 inch bowls) with a full bidet built in: adjustable water temperature and pressure, two nozzle positions, a heated seat, warm-air drying, automatic deodorizing, and preset wash modes. It has its own internal water heater, so it needs a nearby GFI outlet but no hot-water line. For anyone who struggles with both standing and self-cleaning, this is the model that addresses the whole problem instead of half of it.
Helper Lift HL1 — for caregivers. The outlier: not a toilet lift but a 250 lb-capacity transfer lift with about 9.5 inches of rise, a rechargeable battery, and a 23-inch width that fits through residential doorways. It’s pitched as an alternative to a Hoyer lift for someone who can sit upright but can’t stand, letting a live-in caregiver move them between seated spots without manual lifting.
Around the hardware, the pre-purchase tooling is unusually good for this industry: a bathroom fit-checker, a toilet-style compatibility guide, a model-selection flowchart, a screening tool for whether a lift is appropriate at all, free online consultations, and published spare-parts stock. Installation is DIY-friendly but not trivial — the company says a handy person needs one to two hours, and wired models need a GFI outlet within reach — with white-glove delivery and installation available for a fee.
All prices below were taken from the official site in July 2026. Every model displayed a “sale” price against a higher list price at research time; treat the sale column as the real-world price.
| Model | Price (July 2026) | List price | Capacity | Lift height | Power |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Basic BL1 | $999.00 | $1,499.00 | 300 lb | 9” | Wall outlet (GFI), wired remote |
| Helper Lift HL1 | $1,299.00 | $1,999.00 | 250 lb | ~9.5” | Rechargeable battery |
| Deluxe DL2 | $1,499.00 | $1,999.00 | 300 lb | 14” | Battery (~1 month/charge) + plug-in, wireless remote |
| Bariatric XL1 | $1,999.00 | $4,499.00 | 650 lb | 9” | Wall outlet (GFI) |
| Bidet Lift WL2 | $2,999.00 | $3,499.00 | 300 lb | 14” | Wall outlet (GFI), integrated bidet |
| Commercial CL1 | Sold out | — | — | — | — |
Shipping is normally real money — the company publishes $50-$100 per lift for UPS ground, 4-7 days, higher to Alaska and Hawaii, with expedited options at roughly double — though a free-shipping promotion was running in July 2026. On funding: the brand’s own insurance page tells you Medicare will not pay (“Medicare does not cover any toileting or bathroom safety items”), private insurance almost never does, the VA sometimes will for approved patients, and FSA/HSA dollars are the practical way to soften the hit.
Is the price fair? Context helps. A basic mechanical raised toilet seat costs under $100 and a non-powered spring-assist seat runs a few hundred, but neither actually lifts a person the way a powered unit does. Powered toilet lifts from any maker cluster in the $900-$3,000 band, and comparable US-sold electric lifts at mobility dealers sit right alongside Dignity Lifts’ pricing — this is roughly what the category costs, not a brand premium. The honest comparison is the alternative expense: the company’s positioning against assisted-living costs is self-serving but not wrong, since a one-time $1,499 device is a rounding error against institutional care if toileting is genuinely the blocking problem. The perpetual “sale” pricing is the one practice worth an eyebrow — a $4,499 list price on a $1,999 bariatric lift looks like anchoring, and you should never expect to pay list.
The fair summary as of July 2026: consistently positive verified-buyer reviews with credible, specific complaints in the minority — and limited review volume overall, concentrated on platforms the brand hosts.
The main body of evidence is the brand’s Judge.me review profile, which shows 4.6 stars across 200 store reviews as of July 2026. Judge.me is a verified-buyer platform (reviews tie to actual orders), but it’s installed and displayed by the brand, so read it as verified-but-brand-hosted. The recurring positive themes are consistent: the lift is “sturdy” and “very well made,” battery life on the DL2 draws specific praise, customer service is described as responsive, and the dominant story is regained independence — one reviewer called it “a game changer” for their mother’s quality of life. Per-product counts on the site are small but directionally similar: the DL2 shows 21 reviews (86% five-star), the WL2 bidet lift 34 reviews (68% five-star, 21% four-star), the HL1 8 reviews (all four or five stars), the XL1 6 reviews (five 5-star, one 1-star), and the BL1 — the weakest showing — 7 reviews split 43% five-star with one 3-star and one 1-star.
The negative reviews deserve equal airtime because they’re specific rather than ranty. One reviewer reported rust on components with the pointed complaint that rust “is not under warranty” — a real concern for steel hardware living next to a toilet, and consistent with the warranty’s coverage of manufacturing defects rather than corrosion. Fit complaints recur: one buyer found the lift “won’t fit a standard 19-inch high comfort height toilet without risers,” which is exactly what the published 14-18.5 inch compatibility range predicts but still catches people out. Low-mobility ergonomics draw criticism too — “the seat slopes DOWN, so the user slips down when sitting,” a “large gap between the seat and the bowl, so mess is inevitable,” and one user calling the bidet lift “clugey for a $3K product.” To the company’s credit, it publishes these reviews and responds to them, in one case saying it is “actively exploring a back support for people with low levels of mobility.”
Beyond brand-hosted channels, the record thins out fast. No Trustpilot profile exists for the company as of July 2026 — the page simply isn’t there — and no BBB profile surfaced in research, though Michigan business registries confirm a Dignity Lifts LLC in Clarkston. Third-party dealer sites display the same Judge.me-derived 4.6-star widget (DME of America showed 4.6/5 at 239 reviews at research time), and trade press like Rehab Management has covered product launches, but there is no large independent review pool — no Amazon anchor surfaced in research, no Reddit consensus thread. For a brand with a 1998-rooted corporate lineage, the empty watchdog boards cut both ways, exactly as they always do: no independent TrustScore to lean on, but also no accumulated complaint pile, and unhappy buyers of $2,000 medical-adjacent equipment are exactly the people who file BBB complaints when a company goes bad.
On the is-this-a-real-company question, the answer is clearly yes. Dignity Lifts was built inside PriveCo Inc., an e-commerce company trading since 1998 under a named, publicly visible founder (Tom Nardone, who has done trade-press and podcast interviews about the business), with a published street address in Romulus, Michigan, a phone number, an LLC registration visible in Michigan records, and — the strongest structural signal — distribution through established national mobility dealers like MobilityWorks and Rehabmart that don’t onboard fly-by-night suppliers. Research surfaced no non-delivery patterns, no billing complaints, no anonymous-operator red flags. The legitimacy caveat is evidentiary, not substantive: PriveCo says the brand was acquired in May 2026 and now operates as DignityLifts LLC, but the buyer isn’t publicly named, so part of the track record technically belongs to the previous owner; and with no Trustpilot presence and no BBB profile as of July 2026, you’re trusting that record and the brand’s verified-but-self-hosted reviews rather than an independent complaint history.
On product safety, the calibration matters. This is powered equipment that physically moves a person, and the company’s published engineering details are the right kind of specific: rated capacities (300 lb standard, 650 lb bariatric), dual actuators or four actuators depending on model, lift speeds slow enough to be controlled (20-26 seconds), controls on both sides plus caregiver remotes, and honest disclosures like the 450 lb toilet-seat limit on the XL1. The battery-powered DL2 working through power outages is a genuine safety consideration for anyone who’d otherwise be stranded mid-lift. What Dignity Lifts does not do — and should not — is promise health outcomes: a lift performs a standing function; whether it’s appropriate for a given person’s condition is a question for their doctor or occupational therapist, and the company’s own screening tool and free consultations point buyers in that direction. Two practical safety-adjacent flags from the review record: measure your toilet height before ordering (comfort-height bowls above 18.5 inches are a known fit problem), and users with very low trunk control should probe the seat-slope complaints before buying, because the lift assumes you can sit upright.
The buying terms are where the score takes real damage. The warranty is respectable — 90 days of parts-and-service support, then free replacement parts for manufacturing and workmanship defects out to 3 years, covering the components that matter (actuators, linkages, structure, batteries, electricals) — though it excludes grips, remotes, and toilet seats, and reviewers report corrosion falls outside it. The return policy is the harsher document: 30 days, a 10% restocking fee even on an unopened box, 20% if you tried to install it, return shipping to Michigan on your dime, claw-back of any free outbound shipping, and absolutely no returns once the seat wrap is off or the lift has been used. That last rule is defensible — nobody wants a returned used toilet seat back in circulation, and hygiene-product no-return policies are industry standard — but the combined effect is that a wrong purchase costs you $150-$400 in fees and freight even if you never sat on it. The mitigation is to over-verify fit before ordering: use the fit tools, measure the bowl height, confirm the outlet, and take the free consultation. On a purchase this size, that hour of homework is the whole game.
Dignity Lifts earns a 3.8 out of 5 from LegitScout — good with reservations. The legitimacy case is solid: a Michigan brand with a 1998-founded parent-company lineage and a named founder, real addresses, a dealer network that includes the biggest names in US mobility retail, published specs and honest limitations, a 3-year parts warranty, and a 4.6-star verified-review record across 200 Judge.me reviews as of July 2026, with the company visibly answering its critics. In a category that attracts anonymous drop-shippers selling unbranded lifts at similar prices, that profile is worth real money.
What holds the score under 4 is the evidence base and the exit terms. Third-party review coverage is thin — no Trustpilot profile, no BBB listing found, roughly 200 total store reviews hosted on the brand’s own platform — so the reputation rests on a smaller, less independent pool than we’d like for $1,000-$3,000 purchases, and the May 2026 sale to an undisclosed buyer means the longest part of that track record belongs to the previous owner. The return policy stacks restocking fees, return freight, and shipping claw-backs on top of a hard no-returns-once-used rule, which shifts nearly all fit-and-suitability risk onto you. And the review record contains legitimate durability and ergonomics complaints — rust outside warranty coverage, comfort-height fit failures, seat slope for low-mobility users — that you should check against your specific situation before ordering.
Buy from
Yes. Dignity Lifts is a real Michigan business. It was built as a division of PriveCo Inc., an e-commerce company founded in 1998 by Tom Nardone, and — per PriveCo's own site — was acquired by another company in May 2026 and now operates as DignityLifts LLC. The brand publishes a phone number (248-525-3372) and a Romulus, Michigan address, its LLC registration is visible in Michigan records, and its lifts are carried by established third-party mobility dealers including MobilityWorks, Rehabmart, DME of America, and Top Mobility. Its Judge.me review profile shows 4.6 stars across 200 verified store reviews as of July 2026. The caveats are about coverage, not character: no Trustpilot profile exists and no BBB profile surfaced in research as of July 2026, and the new owner hasn't been publicly named, so the independent evidence base is thinner than the brand's 1998-rooted history would suggest. Nothing in the public record points to scam behavior — this is a niche specialist with limited review volume.
As of July 2026, the wired Basic BL1 is $999 (list $1,499), the battery-powered Deluxe DL2 is $1,499 (list $1,999), the caregiver-oriented Helper Lift HL1 is $1,299 (list $1,999), the 650 lb bariatric XL1 is $1,999 (list $4,499), and the Bidet Toilet Lift WL2 is $2,999 (list $3,499). The Commercial CL1 was sold out at the time of research. Standard UPS ground shipping normally runs $50-$100 per lift, though the site was running a free-shipping promotion in July 2026, and white-glove delivery with installation is available at extra cost. Note that every model was showing a marked-down 'sale' price against a higher list price at research time — treat the sale price as the effective everyday price.
Almost certainly not, and the company says so directly: its insurance page states that 'Medicare does not cover any toileting or bathroom safety items' because Medicare classifies them as convenience items rather than medically necessary equipment. Very few private insurance policies reimburse bathroom safety equipment either, so call your insurer before counting on it. The realistic funding paths are the VA (which may order a lift for approved patients through a VA doctor or representative), rare exception cases pursued through a Medicare-enrolled physician and DME provider, or paying out of pocket with FSA/HSA funds, which are tax-advantaged for this kind of purchase.
Returns run 30 days from purchase and get progressively more expensive: an unopened box with intact strapping takes a 10% restocking fee plus a charge-back of any discounted or free outbound shipping; if you attempted installation and it didn't work out, the fee rises to 20% and everything must go back in the original box with the original packing materials; and once the protective wrap is off the toilet seat or the lift has been used for toileting, it is not returnable at all. You pay return shipping via UPS to Michigan, and lifts without their original packaging can't be returned. The warranty is 90 days of parts and service support (the company will work with you and, if needed, a local appliance repair person), then free replacement parts for manufacturing or workmanship defects out to 3 years — covering linkages, structure, actuators, rechargeable batteries, and electrical components, but excluding grips, remote controls, and toilet seats.
It comes down to power, lift height, and body size. The Deluxe DL2 ($1,499 as of July 2026) is the flagship: 14 inches of lift in about 20 seconds, a rechargeable battery that runs roughly a month per 4-hour charge (210-300 cycles depending on user weight), dual side controls plus a wireless remote for caregivers, and it works during power outages. The Basic BL1 ($999) saves $500 but gives only 9 inches of lift over 26 seconds, must stay plugged into a GFI outlet, and fits 16-18 inch bowls only. The XL1 ($1,999) is the bariatric option at 650 lb capacity with four actuators, versus 300 lb for the DL2/BL1/WL2. The WL2 ($2,999) adds a full bidet — warm water wash, heated seat, warm-air dry, deodorizer — to the DL2-style lift. The HL1 ($1,299) is different: a 250 lb transfer lift a caregiver uses to move someone between seated positions around the home, pitched as an alternative to a Hoyer lift.
The company says installation 'typically takes a handy person one hour' and generally under two, using the included instructions — the lift installs around your existing toilet rather than replacing it. You'll need to confirm fit first (the site provides bathroom-fit and toilet-style checkers; bowl-height compatibility is 14-18.5 inches for the DL2/WL2 and 16-18 inches for the BL1/XL1) and you'll need electrical access: the BL1 and XL1 plug into a GFI outlet full-time, the WL2 needs a nearby GFI outlet for its heater, and the DL2's rechargeable battery needs an outlet about once a month for a 4-hour charge. One reviewer noted a 19-inch comfort-height toilet wouldn't work without risers, so measure before you order. White-glove delivery with professional installation is available if there's no handy person around.