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 "Wow Rita, you look great! How old are you?" “Sorry, I don't give my age,” is always my answer. The usual response is, “I don't understand,” as they tell me how proud I should be. I have to admit there is a little part of my ego that agrees with them, but then again, that's not what is important to me. I'll tell you what is. There are many things I do to maintain my looks, but what I consider most important is that I think young. And here is why. One day when I was "getting up there," I had a facial and the aesthetician commented on how good my skin looked. I had to agree that it was pretty good for my age, and I told her my age. With that, she went into a completely different mode, offering to help me down off the table and going on about how much assistance I needed from her. That was my lesson learned. Age is just a number, but when she heard that number, she started treating me differently. In her mind, all people my age needed to be helped. No thank you. I'll let you know if I do. If I have an ache or pain, I simply tell myself to take care of it and move on. I don't think that because I'm old, it's natural. I think young. My spirituality is another reason I don't tell my age. My spirituality teaches me that we are all the same, and that we have the same heart. I don't want to be identified by a number that separates me from you. The mind is a powerful thing, and if I think my age, I am my age. Being young in mind and spirit keeps me from being labeled and put in a box. I know some will disagree and stick to the pride aspect of aging healthfully, but I can tell you what works for me. Look inside and ponder that. Namaste. Rita Firestone Seger is a doctor of divinity from American University of Holistic Theology and a published author. She was invited to contribute this editorial after an uplifting conversation with Desert Health Publisher Lauren Del Sarto, and we thank her for her inspiration. www.DesertHealthNews.com September/October 2026 Through the Generations The Valley's Leading Resource for Health and Wellness 17 Doing Just Fine (with a Backup Plan) Lessons from a three-step ladder By Laurel Fuqua, RN, MSN Changes in our abilities are not verdicts, but simply information. Continued on page 18 Age Is Just a Number By Rita Firestone Seger, DD Rita Seger with Desert Health’s Lauren Del Sarto 760-679-3355 Jenny Johnson CEO, Registered Nurse Home Care Nurse Care Management Concierge Nursing You are more than a client,you are family. Less worry. Less overwhelm. More peace of mind. re annaaggeem ge CALL FOR FREE CONSULTATION L M he of
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