When I was a child, I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents. They lived on a farm in eastern Kentucky, and I loved visiting them. The farm was large, and I was able to run free within its boundaries. However, by the time I turned 5, my grandparents required continuous assistance in daily living, but they didn’t want to move from their home.
My grandmother couldn’t walk on her own and required a wheelchair. My grandfather used a cane and could walk only short distances. Their 1900s farmhouse wasn’t built to support people with mobility issues: the doorways were narrow, access in and out of the house required using stairs, and the layout was such that they had to go up and down stairs to access the bathroom. Still, they wanted to stay home—the place where they had lived for 60 years.
To accommodate their wishes, my mother and three of her sisters agreed to split care duties, each taking turns staying with them while an uncle agreed to run the farm. For the next eight years, my mother and I spent every weekend with my grandparents. We strove to allow them to maintain normalcy to the greatest extent possible while also modifying things to best work with their restrictions. We worked with them to make space for their daily activities within the house so they were freer to move. My grandmother loved puzzles, so we found furniture that was low and large enough to allow her to still enjoy that hobby. We also added soft lighting so they could better see while doing puzzles and reading.
I still treasure the time I spent with them to this day, but it wasn’t always easy. They couldn’t afford adding an at-grade bathroom, so my mother and aunts helped them with their daily hygiene. A lift wasn’t available, so my mother and aunts had to help my grandmother from her bed to her wheelchair several times a day. As I watched my mother care for them, I realized how difficult it was to assist a person to such an extent.
As I grew up, I continued to think about the lessons I learned on that farm and the resources required to help individuals stay active and free of limitations as they age. Early in my architectural career in 2006, I found myself working for American Structurepoint (Indianapolis), where I was given the chance to start working with senior care developers and operators. I found my niche at that point, focusing my attention on developing spaces where seniors could live active, well-rounded lives. I’ve taken all of the lessons from my grandparents and from working with seniors in a church environment and applied them to the projects I design. I strive to make all amenities and personal areas as accessible as possible while also providing equipment and technology that assist them in their daily routines.
Once my friend told me that her aunt had been so unhappy in the community where she lived that she decided to move to a new residence—coincidentally, one that I had designed. My friend’s aunt was so happy with her new home that she couldn’t stop talking about it—her suite, the dining room, the theater, the food, the care. It all made her so happy, and all I’d done was just ask myself what I would want if I were living there.
Throughout my career, I’ve done my best to engender equality for seniors and to provide them the supportive spaces they need to live happy lives—something I started learning long ago.
Vanessa Shumate is senior project architect at American Structurepoint (Indianapolis). She can be reached [email protected].
If you’re interested in sharing the story of what ignited your passion for senior living design, contact Executive Editor Anne DiNardo at [email protected].
