Front Porch: Surprise hospitalization highlights smaller details that need attention

We older folks are getting a lot of advice about how to live safely, spend wisely and to prepare whatever assets we may have for a smooth and easy transition to wherever we want them to go when we’re gone.

Wills and trusts. Appropriate diet. Scam prevention. Banisters for stairs. Hearing aids. And, yes, how to still enjoy the world while minimizing the risks. It’s not necessarily fun, but it is smart to take appropriate care of ourselves, adjusting expectations (pickleball instead of tennis, for example), as well as taking precautions so we can be out among ’em as long as possible.

I’ve discovered recently that in addition to these personal big and obvious changes, there are smaller ones that are most useful to pay attention to as well. For background, when I was to have knee replacement surgery last February, along with all the medical preparations, I made some for the home after surgery.

My handy husband has one flaw in all of his McGuyvering ability to fix or manage most everything – the kitchen. He can make a peanut butter sandwich. That pretty much covers it. He still doesn’t know where most things are in the kitchen, nor what to do with them once they’re in hand.

If I’m out of commission, he either doesn’t eat or just opens cupboards or the refrigerator to grab whatever is in site to nibble on. He’s not inclined to eat out or have food delivered, though he did venture into a hospital cafeteria, once, for a salad … progress.

Also, in our distribution of labor, I’m the check writer in the family. First, it’s a matter of hand-writing, one being legible and the other … well, less so. And early in our marriage, it was a matter of who had more time to do it, and it’s just never changed. (We’re not much for online banking or direct pay, so checks are still written and the checkbook balanced every month.)

So, when the surgery was approaching, I prepared a number of meals that were frozen for later (Bruce can operate a microwave) and I made sure all bills were paid right up to surgery day.

Things worked out well.

Then last month, I had a surprise hospitalization. Out of nowhere, blam, in the hospital for six days. On the mend now, but it was a bit of a siege.

But on the home front, there were no advance-prep meals in the freezer. Bills were waiting to be paid. Garbage and recycling weren’t being gathered and taken out to the appropriate cans. Flowers on the deck weren’t being watered. And all the smaller things on my side of the ledger stopped cold.

Bruce was with me most of the time at the hospital, as things were evolving and tests being done and new discoveries happening, so much of his own work was being neglected, too. Our son came over from Seattle, which was a great help.

Happily, Sam functions quite well in the kitchen, so he made sure his father ate, even when Bruce didn’t want to

As I lay in my hospital bed, I worried about all these undone smaller things in life. That’s on me, but it did occupy space in my mind. What if this goes on a long time? What if I emerge debilitated? What if I die? We weren’t in danger of our electricity being shut off, but would Bruce figure out that our supplemental health care bill needs to get paid by a certain date, and then see to it that it gets done?

So here we are, on the other side of the emergency. I haven’t turned into a crazy woman (I don’t think), but I am making sure that there are frozen meals on board; I pay bills at least weekly; I make sure the cupboards are appropriately supplied with items for foraging. And we are talking about one another’s tasks and how to step in to cover them where we can.

There are some of my things that Bruce isn’t good at, and there are certainly some of his things that I know I can’t manage well. That’s an issue we’re going to have to work on.

And while we’re in pretty good shape for the big stuff – will updated, tripping hazards mostly taken care of, etc. – I realize that you also have to tend to the lesser unseen and unanticipated details, too, once you realize that those things can cause trouble or discomfort in surprising ways.

This getting-old business involves doing a lot of things and making adjustments that I never anticipated.

There’s more to thinking ahead than I thought. It’s kind of like when your grandmother reminded you to be sure to have clean undies on lest you wind up in an accident and taken to the hospital and it will be discovered that you are not at your tidiest.

OK, maybe that’s a reach, but you know what I mean.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net.