The hospital bag

Two bags, or one with two halves

One half is theirs, one half is yours. Caregivers pack beautifully for the person who is ill and arrive with nothing for themselves, and then sit for nine hours in a plastic chair with a dead phone.

Theirs

The medicine list, printed, with doses and times, and the actual medicines in their boxes if you can. The one-page summary from the fridge: condition, consultant, key contacts. Any card or letter the hospital gave them. Glasses, hearing aids, dentures and their cases. Phone and charger with a long cable. Comfortable clothes that are easy to get in and out of, and slippers with grip. Something from home: a small photo, their own pillowcase, a blanket that smells right. A notebook and a pen.

Yours

Phone charger with a long cable, and a battery pack. A jumper, because hospitals are either very hot or very cold and never the one you dressed for. Water bottle. Snacks that do not need a fridge: nuts, crackers, something sweet. Coins and a card for the car park and the machine. Your own medicines. A paperback or something to listen to with headphones. Toothbrush and a travel toothpaste. Lip balm; hospital air is dry. Pen and the notebook. A list of people to text, so you do not have to think of who at three in the morning.

The paper

Make two copies of the one-page summary. One lives in the bag. One stays on the fridge. If there is a document about their wishes for care, a copy goes in the bag too, in an envelope marked clearly. You may never need it, and if you do you will not want to be looking for it.

Where it lives

By the door, or in the boot of the car. Not in a cupboard. Check it monthly: medicines change, chargers get borrowed, snacks get eaten. Put a reminder on the first of the month.

The small extra

A card in the top of the bag with three lines: the person's name, your name and number, and "please call me before any decision is made." If you have to step out for an hour and someone else is sitting with them, that card does your talking.