Most emergency preparedness plans start with a checklist: torches, bottled water, spare batteries. It involves providing essentials and eliminating risk.
Mine starts with two people.
My mother, 91. My father, 95. Still living in the house they bought sixty years ago.
They are determined to keep four things at this stage of life:
- Being with each other.
- Living in their own home.
- Having family nearby.
- Enjoying their garden.
Moving into higher care would mean losing at least two of those four—and for them, that would be a kind of living death. We’ve emphasised that they are one critical incident away from major change. They choose the present over the future.
So, instead of forcing a plan that matched our fears, we created one that honoured their wishes. We renovated the kitchen and bathroom, removed every trip hazard we could find, and stood ready to respond when the inevitable happened.
It happened this month.
Ten days ago, Mum fell and fractured her hip. Surgery followed. Yesterday, Dad was admitted with pneumonia. They are now in the same hospital, different wards, exchanging messages through us. Yesterday they were able to visit each other.
We don’t have a grab-and-go bag or a laminated checklist. What we have is an emergency plan built around relationships—siblings coordinating visits, text messages to keep news flowing, and organising next steps.
It’s stressful. It’s costly in time, energy, and emotion. But it means my parents still have the things that matter most to them.
Sometimes the best emergency preparedness plan isn’t about supplies and logistics.
It’s about knowing what (and who) is most important—and being ready to protect that, together.
The Afterword 
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