Before surgery: a calm checklist for the night before

You'll almost certainly be fine. Most planned operations are routine for the people doing them, even when they feel enormous to the person on the trolley. This list isn't about expecting the worst. It's about the small things that make the waiting easier, for you and for the people who love you.

It's also not medical advice. Your surgical team will tell you about fasting, medicines and what to bring; follow them first. What follows is the other half: the lifts, the paperwork, the words, and what to do with a check-in service like a dead man's switch while you're out of action.

The practical things

Sort these a few days ahead. The aim is that, by the evening before, there's nothing left to organise and you can simply rest.

• Who drives you home, and who stays the first night. Many hospitals won't discharge you after a general anaesthetic unless someone collects you. Line up a backup too, in case your first choice is held up.
• Medication list printed, including doses. Include supplements and anything you take "only sometimes". A printed list is easier for staff than your memory at six in the morning.
• Phone charger and a long cable for the ward. Sockets are rarely next to the bed.
• Someone who can update family, so you don't have to. Choose one person. Give them the list of who wants news, and let them send the "out and doing well" message.
• Pets, plants and post covered for a week. Recovery often takes longer than the hospital stay. Plan for the days at home when you can't lift a bag of cat litter.

A small kindness to your future self: put a glass, the TV remote, your reading glasses and your medicines within reach of wherever you'll recover, before you leave the house.

The paperwork no one likes to mention

If you've been meaning to, this is a good moment to note where your will is, name a healthcare proxy or power of attorney, and tell one person how to get into your phone. It's not pessimism. It's just tidying up.

You don't need to hand anyone your passwords or explain your finances. You need just enough that, if you're groggy for a few days, someone can find the rest. Our guide to telling family where important documents are goes into how to do this without giving away the keys too early.

Who can speak for you

The words differ by country. In the US people talk about a healthcare proxy, healthcare power of attorney or advance directive. In England and Wales it's a lasting power of attorney for health and welfare, which has to be registered before it can be used, so it isn't a night-before job. Elsewhere in Europe the rules vary again. This is general information, not legal advice; if it matters to you, ask a solicitor, an attorney or the hospital's patient advice service.

Even without a formal document, it helps to tell your family plainly who you'd want the medical team to talk to first.

Your phone

Your phone is often the key to everything else: two-factor codes, banking apps, messages. Decide who could unlock it if they had to, and how. Some people tell one person their passcode; others set up a recovery contact through their phone or password manager. Pick whatever you're comfortable with.

Your before-surgery list

Tick these off as you go. Your progress is saved in this browser, so you can come back to it over a few days.

The words

Many people write a short note before an operation, then feel lighter for having done it. It doesn't need to be long, and it doesn't need to sound like a goodbye. Most of them read more like a thank-you.

If you want to say more, a few prompts help:

• One thing they've done recently that you noticed and didn't mention.
• Something practical you'd want them to know, such as who to ring at work.
• The plain words you'd want them to hear, whatever happens.

You can hand the note over, leave it in a drawer, or keep it somewhere that only releases it if you don't come back to it. Afterwards, you can delete it, or keep it as the start of something longer. If the note is for a husband, wife or partner, our guide to writing a letter to your partner, just in case has example lines.

If you use a check-in service

A check-in service, or dead man's switch, sends messages if you stop responding. That's exactly what you want if something happens, and exactly what you don't want while you're asleep on a ward with your phone in a locker.

So pause it before admission and set it to resume once you're home and steady. Pause is there for planned gaps like this one.

On Sealkept, pause mode switches off reminders, alerts and releases. One tap holds everything for 30 days, and you can resume earlier whenever you like. You check in by email, in the app, by replying OK to a reminder text or by pressing 1 on a reminder call, so once you're home, a text or call can reach you even if email feels like too much.

If you forget to pause

It happens. A well-designed switch has layers so that one missed check-in isn't the end of the story: several reminders first, then optional trusted verifiers who can confirm you're fine, then a soft alert to your recipients, then a grace period before anything personal is opened. The dead man's switch guide explains how those layers fit together and how to choose an interval.

If your recovery is longer or less predictable, a weekly interval with a longer grace period may suit you better than pausing again and again. The check-in quiz suggests a setup based on how you live.

The night before

By now the list should be done. What's left is small: pack the bag, follow the fasting instructions you were given, put your phone on charge and go to bed early, even if you don't sleep much.

If there's a letter you've been meaning to write for longer than this operation, the weeks of recovery are a gentle time to start it. Sealkept was made for that kind of letter: kept private while you check in, encrypted at rest, and only released by the rules you set. For more on how check-ins, verifiers and pause fit together, read our full guide to the dead man's switch.