I am a registered nurse and geriatric care manager. For years, I have encouraged others to make their homes safer, plan ahead and accept support before a crisis.

Recently, I climbed a three-step ladder while home alone. I fell backward and landed hard on my back. As I lay there taking inventory of what parts of me still moved, a thought floated through my mind: When am I going to start following my own advice?

Fortunately, I was able to get up—sore, embarrassed and suddenly much more teachable. The step ladder was promptly moved to the garage, where it now sits out of reach.

A likely cause of my imbalance is the torn meniscus in my knee, and I began to ponder my upcoming surgery. Who will drive me? What will I need at home? Which everyday tasks may be difficult for a while? Who can I call if recovery does not go as expected?

None of this means I am no longer independent. I am fairly healthy, still working and deeply involved in the creative interests and projects I love. And, given the right music, I’m still willing to dance all night.

I am also, apparently, older than I think I am. My mind still assumes I can do everything I did 10 years ago. My body has begun requesting a meeting. The fall gave me new information: The plan that worked for me last year may need a little backup this year.

Independence is not a light switch

We often think of independence as all or nothing. Either we are managing on our own, or we “need help.” That leaves out the large and very normal middle ground where many of us live as we age.

You can be capable, active and fully engaged in your life, and still benefit from a grab bar, transportation after a procedure, help with a few household tasks or someone nearby who knows what is going on.

A small change is not a verdict; it is information.

Perhaps you have had a fall or near-fall. Maybe stairs feel harder, recovery takes longer or you have begun avoiding an activity that once felt routine. Perhaps several medications and medical appointments are becoming more difficult to organize, or maybe you live alone and have realized there is no clear backup plan if you become sick or injured.

One change may simply reflect a difficult week. Several changes may suggest that your current plan deserves another look.

The safety device on the dresser

Here is another confession. I own an Apple Watch with fall-detection features. I also have a small emergency-response button designed to look like a pretty necklace. If I press it, I can call for help.

Guess what I was wearing when I fell? Neither one.

My watch was not on my wrist, and the necklace was not around my neck. Both safety devices were resting comfortably somewhere else while I was lying on the floor.

This is not simply a technology problem; it is a very human one.

Why will I rarely leave the house without earrings and lipstick, yet treat a device that could summon help as optional? I brush my teeth every morning without debating whether I am old enough to need toothpaste. Why have I not made putting on my watch just as automatic? Perhaps it is because we associate emergency buttons and fall detection devices with frailty. Wearing one can feel like admitting that we have crossed some invisible line. But safety devices do not have to represent a loss of independence. They can be part of the routine that protects it.

My new morning checklist may be very simple: brush teeth, apply lipstick, put on earrings…and wear the watch. Not because I am fragile; because I live alone, value my independence and would like to keep dancing.

Of course, any safety device only helps when it is charged, worn and used consistently. Buying it is not the same as building it into daily life.

Meet help before you need help

Many people first think about calling a care manager after a hospitalization, fall or sudden change. By then, everyone is under pressure and decisions must be made quickly. There is another option: establish the relationship earlier.

Care management can begin with a consultation rather than an ongoing commitment. An early visit might include reviewing the home environment, emergency contacts, medications, health care documents, transportation, local resources and plans for an upcoming surgery or change in health.

A care manager may also help arrange a home-safety assessment, identify potential gaps and connect someone with other professionals when a specialized evaluation is needed. Sometimes, one thoughtful assessment and a practical written plan are enough for now. The greater benefit may be knowing whom to call when circumstances change.

Planning ahead does not mean handing over control. It means making decisions while you still have the time, energy and freedom to shape the plan yourself.

A different definition of ‘fine’

I still live alone. I still work. I still make art, build new projects and occasionally believe I can do things exactly as I did 10 years ago. But I am paying closer attention now.

I am planning for knee surgery, even though it’s not yet scheduled. I am looking at my home with fresher eyes. I am working on making safety devices part of getting dressed rather than something I will wear “when I really need them.” Most importantly, I am becoming more comfortable with the idea that asking for a little help early may be one of the best ways to remain independent longer.

I am still fine. I have simply decided that “fine” can include grab bars, a recovery plan, a watch on my wrist—and enough wisdom to leave the ladder in the garage.

Laurel Fuqua, RN, MSN, is a registered nurse and geriatric care manager serving as regional director with About Senior Solutions Coachella Valley. She can be reached at (760) 338.3170 or laurelfuqua@aboutseniorsolutions.com.

Sources: 1) National Institute on Aging. Aging in Place: Growing Older at Home and Home Safety Tips for Older Adults; 2) Aging Life Care Association. What You Need to Know About Aging Life Care.