We recently spent a big pile of cash having our main bathroom redone. Our house is new, but our bathroom was gray: gray paint. Gray floor tiles. Gray shower tiles. It was as dull as a plain peanut butter samich. Also, it had a big tub awkwardly hanging out next to the shower. My SHH is not a bath guy. I do like an occasional soak in the tub, but I began to feel a little unsafe when trying to get out, so we decided to tear it out and replace it with a bigger, fancier shower AND a vanity where I can do makeup and other personal beautifying activities. It’s the best except for two things. One, I should have had the electrician put one of the LED overhead lights right over my vanity, and two, I wish I had realized that the new vanity was a few inches too high. Sitting there is a little bit like a kid sitting at an adult’s desk. Otherwise, everything is perfect and 100 times more beautiful than what was there before. Oh, I almost forgot that we had the doorway to our giant closet widened so I can get in there using my walker OR wheelchair now. Despite my having been diagnosed with MS when I was 30, neither of us even mentioned whether we should address the water closet, in which the toilet is located. What was up with THAT? Late stage denial? Blind stupidity? Neither of us has an answer.
Cut to my first few posts, you know, the ones when I began falling, unable to get up on my own. SHH (translation for you latecomers: Super Hero Husband), researched and figured out that I needed a transfer bench. I go to our bathroom, and transfer to the bench. I slide over close to the toilet and with my legs stand up, rotate and sit on the toilet. Then, another trick he learned is that I gradually get my pants down, by rocking side to side until I can get them off and do what I’ve gotta do. Oh, he also removed the door to the water closet. The bench does stick out a little from the room, and kind of ruins the vibe we were going for when we remodeled the bathroom, but we really have no other options unless we want to pony up a bunch more money. Hint: we don’t.
So why is it that even in this brand new house, no attention seems to have been paid to the principles of universal design? There are a few other doors I can’t get through, using my walker or wheelchair, and getting out our back door is a problem. I can’t see through our peephole, while sitting in my wheelchair. I do have an app that lets me see who is at my front door, as long as I have electricity (which round these here parts, is questionable, and by these parts I mean the entire massive state of Texas)!
Even with the expensive and helpful kitchen chair (it goes up and down at the touch of a button) that my husband got for me almost two years ago, now I can’t reach a lot of the shelves in our pantry and cabinets. I’m somewhat tall at 5’8”, and most of the time, I’ve had no trouble reaching high spots. But now, I lose my balance, which terrifies me. I do NOT want to be hospitalized ever. I’ve actually never been hospitalized except for giving birth. Aside: they were both Army hospitals and nothing to write home about. The first one, was especially grim and I could not wait to leave that unkind place. The second one was not very modernized, but I had a sweet, highly capable RN as well as my own room. So that’s IT for my experiences being hospitalized & I want to keep it that way.
Have you seen the term in recent years about “aging in place?” This is about people getting older and having to make changes, sometimes major changes, to be able to function well in their own but older homes. In other words, had homes been built with some attention to “universal design,” there surely would be much less construction devoted to aging in place NOW. Neither of the designers with whom we’ve worked even so much as *mentioned* aging in place or universal design. This, despite the fact that both times, I obviously had a disability, unless they thought my walker was a fashion accessory (it’s not).
Is universal design new? Not by a long shot! According to my research, the term was first coined by Ronald Mace, an American architect, who was afflicted with polio as a child. Mr. Mace went on to have his alma mater, North Carolina State University, build much of its campus with accessibility. This man was born in the’50s and used a wheelchair his whole life. But his principles of universal design have been around for many decades. We really need to start using them. Later, I’ll go over the basic ideas behind them. If you ever suffer an injury and you live in a two-story house, or someone in your family does, or you are lucky enough to live a long life and develop arthritis or MS or Parkinson’s, you will congratulate yourself that you were smart enough to build your house with universal design in mind. I certainly wish it had been common when any of the houses we’ve owned were built.