As most of you were sitting glued to the tube, watching the catastrophic damage of Hurricane Katrina, I was consumed by the flu, oblivious to everything.

Late in the night, very sick and groggy, I got up to go to the bathroom — and smashed my big toe into a chair. (My nightlight had burned out, so I couldn't see where I was going. Note: Replace burned-out bulbs in nightlights!)

Too sick to deal with my toe, I slapped a bandage on it and returned to bed. Big mistake — that's likely where the bacteria invaded, creating a severe infection of my right leg called "cellulitis." Defined as a "rapidly spreading bacterial infection of the skin and the tissues immediately beneath the skin," cellulitis made my leg look (and feel) like someone had taken a blowtorch to it. Swollen, blistered, hot and excruciatingly painful, the infection started at the bottom of my foot and ended five inches past my knee.

I was hospitalized for four days.

My recovery has been slow, but I'm happy to say I'm getting better. For the past four weeks, I've been pretty impaired — I've needed a walker to get around, slept all day, had no stamina and was unable to stand on my feet for long, meaning I've needed help getting groceries, fixing meals, seeing the doctor, cleaning house, taking out the garbage — all those pain-in-the-neck chores that are vital for life. Since I have no husband or kids to care for me, friends became my caregivers — which is a whole new way to think about your friends and how much they're able and willing to do in your time of need.

This illness has wised me up. I'm grateful for my normal good health and health insurance, and more determined than ever to work hard at keeping both. But it's also been a dress rehearsal for what lies ahead in 20 to 30 years (or sooner), when I'm older, and my health is more easily compromised.

For one thing, I believe even more firmly in the mantra I frequently preach — to "age deliberately," taking steps while we're healthy that will give us some control over what happens when we're not. When illness struck, it was an eye-opener to see the results of my preparation. Much of it worked, and I learned a lot, but I found a few wrinkles, too.

I'd already put together the three essential legal forms for myself that I often talk about — durable powers of attorney for health and finances and a directive to physician (living will) — which allow people who care about me to protect my interests if I become mentally incapacitated. I'd had them signed, witnessed and recorded — but forgot to tell anyone where they were. Just as I was leaving for the hospital, my good friend, Judy — the main person named in these documents and my primary caregiver — suddenly asked, "Where are your papers?" Luckily, they're in a binder on my bookshelf.

Then there are my "significant others" — the people I urge readers to identify who care about them, will take care of them and will protect their interests when they cannot. Like many boomers who have no spouse or kids, my significant others are my friends, and we've talked often about providing oversight for one another someday. That turns out to be easier said than done, for it's hard to know what another person needs when she's sick. Wash the dishes? Get to the bank? Take the garbage out? Most needs are invisible. When friends asked, "What can I do?," I learned it was important to be specific.

And lucky for me, getting sick brought forth two other good people in my life — my new neighbors, Maria and Russ. Not only were they wonderfully helpful while I was sick, but they're also 20 years younger. This means when I'm 90, there'll be a couple of 70-year-olds making decisions for me — in addition to all my 90-year-old friends!

I also discovered that my normal good health and stubbornness probably made my situation worse. On the third day of being ill, Judy and Maria tried getting me to see a doctor. Oh no, I said, I'm fine, I never get sick. Day 4: I called to make an appointment, but I didn't sound urgent. By Day 5, when I finally saw the doctor, I needed to be hospitalized. Had I gone sooner, I might have avoided the hospital altogether. As a result, Maria and Judy now have my permission to call my doctor if I ever become so ill again — no matter how much I insist I'm fine.

In memoriam: On Sept. 7, 2005, a longtime friend and champion of older-adult services died suddenly from a heart attack. Eileen Murphy, 54, was the instigator and creator of King County's Senior Information & Assistance database, the only resource to which I usually refer readers for accurate lists of older-adult services in our county (www.seniorservices.org or 888-435-3377). We mourn her loss.

Liz Taylor's column runs Mondays in the Northwest Life section. A specialist in aging and long-term care for 30 years, she's worked with thousands of families and their elders. E-mail her at growingolder@seattletimes.com or write to P.O. Box 11601, Bainbridge Island, WA 98110. You can see all of her columns at www.seattletimes.com/growingolder/