How to prepare your house before surgery
Somebody at the hospital told you to prepare the house. Maybe it was on a printed sheet, maybe the surgeon's nurse said it on the way out. Nobody said what it meant.
I've had two shoulder surgeries. Both times I was the patient sent home with that instruction and no list. So here is the list I wish I'd been given: what the house is about to ask of you, room by room, and which fixes are a week's rental and which are worth doing properly while you're at it.
Start with what you won't be able to do
Your surgeon has already told you the restrictions. Write them down in house terms, not medical ones. Most restrictions come down to one of five things:
Steps. Stairs, a step into the shower, the step at the front door.
Reaches. Anything above your shoulder, below your knee, or behind you.
Transfers. Sitting down and standing up. Getting into bed, onto the toilet, in and out of a car.
Minutes. How long you can stand at a counter or a sink.
Hands. Anything that needs two, when you'll have one, or one that can't grip.
Shoulder surgery is mostly reaches and hands. Hip and knee surgery is mostly steps and transfers. Abdominal surgery is minutes and reaches below the waist. Your restrictions tell you which list you're on.
Then walk the day
Do this before the surgery, on a normal day, with the restrictions in mind. Walk the route you'll take on the first day home and notice what the house asks for.
Getting in. How many steps to the door? Is there a rail? Where do you put the bag down while you open the door? If the entry has a step and no rail, that's the first thing.
The bathroom. Can you get onto and off the toilet without pulling on the sink? Is there a step into the shower? Is there anywhere to sit in it? Can you reach the shampoo without lifting your arm above your shoulder? Where is the towel?
The bed. How high is it? A bed that's a little high is easier to get out of than one that's low. Which side do you sleep on, and is the surgical side against the wall? Where is the lamp switch, and can you reach it from lying down?
The kitchen. Where are the plates, the glasses, and the one pan you'll actually use? If they're above your shoulder, move them to the counter for a month. Can you open the fridge with one hand? Where will the medications live, and can you open the bottle?
Sitting. One chair with arms, at a height you can get out of without help. Not the couch.
Write down everything that made you pause. That's your list.
Which fixes are temporary
Most of what you need for six weeks can be borrowed, rented or bought cheaply and given away afterward:
A raised toilet seat with arms, or a frame that goes around the toilet.
A shower chair or a bench that straddles the tub edge, and a handheld shower head, which is a ten-minute swap.
A reacher for the floor and the high shelf.
A bed rail that slides under the mattress, if getting up is the hard part.
Lamps you switch by touch, plugs you can reach, and everything you use daily moved to between your waist and your shoulder.
Your surgeon's office or an occupational therapist can tell you which of these fits your restrictions. That's their part, not mine. Mine is what the house does with them.
Which fixes should be permanent
Here is the question worth asking before you buy anything temporary: is this the only time?
If this is one surgery with a clean recovery and you'll never think about the bathroom again, rent the chair and move on. If this is one of several, or the recovery is long, or the reason for the surgery is a body that's changing anyway, then some of the temporary fixes are telling you what the house should have been doing all along.
A handheld shower head is permanent. A grab bar into wood is permanent, and if the wall's ever open, the wood goes in for a few dollars. A door you struggled through with a walker is a door that should be wider next time the wall comes down. A step into the shower you couldn't cross is a step the next shower shouldn't have.
None of that has to happen before surgery. It has to be written down, so that when you next renovate, the list already exists.
The one thing to do this week
If you do nothing else: sit in every chair and on every toilet and bed you'll use, and stand up from it with the restrictions in mind. Whatever you can't get up from without your bad arm or your bad leg gets fixed first. Everything else can wait for the second week home.
I keep a short guide to which house decisions close when, called The Decisions Your Renovation Makes Without You. If a surgery has you looking at the house differently, it's the list to start with. It's set in large print for reading on a bad day. Sign up and the download is yours.
