From Uncertainty at Home to Hope

The original entrance to the pool house

When I first heard from this family in December 2024, they were overwhelmed. Their loved one had gotten a serious diagnosis, and their beautiful, historic home wasn’t set up for safety or ease. 

They wanted help making the home safer, but they weren’t sure what was possible, what was worth the investment, or how to balance history, function, and dignity.

We walked through the home together and faced the first big decision: adapt the existing upstairs bathroom with multiple steps and long routes that risked fatigue and falls, or create a first-floor solution? Or try to find a more suitable location within the home to make a bathroom?

Every option came with tradeoffs. One involved converting a distant, partially plumbed space into a bathroom—too far for daily use and requiring a makeshift bedroom in the living area. The other meant retrofitting the existing upstairs bath, which offered little long-term benefit. Then, what once felt like a “someday” dream, the pool house conversion, came into focus as the most practical and sustainable path forward.

The pool house could become an accessory dwelling unit (ADU) now. It was safe, accessible, and forgiving. It offered a way for them to live the retirement they had envisioned, together, even if the timeline had arrived sooner than planned.

The family’s trusted kitchen designer joined the project and helped expand the vision. My original plan was intentionally modest, to respect the budget and give the family time to imagine what was possible. But the designer saw more potential, suggesting a larger bathroom and a reimagined layout that blended function, comfort, and beauty. What began as a practical adaptation started to feel like a space of renewal and hope.

The completed bathroom.

The family felt uncertain, worried even, that the plans might not work in real life. We stayed in close contact, collaborating through texts, emails, and calls to make sure every design choice balanced safety with comfort and aesthetics.

I recommended a low-threshold shower with a curtain instead of glass doors to allow for a shower chair and reduce fall risk. There was hesitation, even a pre-ordered shower pan that might need to be canceled. Together, we problem-solved—exploring adapted curtain solutions, confirming clearances, and refining pullouts, contrast, and turning space until every detail felt right.

We selected drop-down grab bars at the toilet to provide support when needed without blocking space. The contractor solved a critical space issue with a tankless water heater.

The kitchen, once feared to be too small, became a perfectly sized, accessible space that the family now prefers to their main kitchen. She admitted, she didn't believe it would work originally, but trust in  experts ultimately won.

Photo of the original space

Photo of the completed project

Outside access to this space changed everything. The original flagstone was beautiful,  but hazardous for a rollator and potential wheelchair use. 

The resourceful family reworked the paths and entries into smooth, widened, near-zero-threshold routes at my reccomendation to improve the thresholds. That transformation unlocked the whole project. The landscape designer even integrated the old pool fence into the new design so it looked meant-to-be.  And when the township pushed back on the work, I was able to use my background as a healthcare professional to help justify the medical necessity of these changes through a letter of support for the family.

The after photo of the completed walkway in front of the pool house.

With safe access restored, the family could finally see the ADU as a complete, long-term solution, a space that included a bedroom, kitchen, and multipurpose living room with a Murphy bed. It was designed not just for today’s needs, but for tomorrow’s possibilities.

When I returned for a post-occupancy visit, there was a quiet moment of vulnerability. The spouse shared a fear she hadn’t voiced before: losing part of her professional space to this project had felt like losing another piece of their shared life plan. She worried it wouldn’t be worth it, that the new space might be too small, or that her clients wouldn’t feel comfortable there.

Later, she told me that moving her work into the main house actually felt better, that her clients were happy, and the new kitchen and bathroom had exceeded her hopes. These solutions were functional, inviting, and dignified, for both her, her spouse, and her clients.

She also acknowledged the emotional weight of caring while grieving in advance. Together, we made a plan to connect her with supportive resources for what comes next. Because aging in place is never just about grab bars or floor plans, it’s about people, their hopes, their grief, and the possibilities within their space.

By aligning safety, beauty, and function, and staying flexible at key decision points, we turned fear and constraint into a home that supports love, caregiving, and togetherness.

If you’re not sure what’s possible in your home, or where to start, know that you don’t have to figure it out alone. Whether you’re planning a renovation, exploring accessibility upgrades, or simply trying to make life a little easier day to day, Aurora Independence can help.

Our role is to be your advocate and guide, someone who understands both the personal and practical sides of change. We help you see what’s possible, connect you with trusted professionals, and make sure your goals, safety, and comfort stay at the center of every decision.