The call comes at a bad time, because it always does. A neighbor found Dad on the kitchen floor. The ambulance is there. And the person standing next to him — the neighbor, the EMT, the sitter — knows none of the things the next hour depends on: what he takes, what he's allergic to, which daughter to call, which hospital his cardiologist admits to.
All of that information exists. It's just distributed across three siblings' memories, a drawer of paperwork, and a group chat. An emergency info sheet is the exercise of getting it onto one printed page before anyone needs it — so the person standing there can act, whoever they turn out to be.
What belongs on the sheet
One page. If it doesn't fit on one page, it isn't an emergency sheet — it's a file, and nobody reads a file in an ambulance. Capture:
- Who this is — full name, date of birth, and the name they actually go by. "Eleanor" on the chart, "Ellie" to her face.
- Allergies and reactions — not just "penicillin" but what happens ("rash," "anaphylaxis"). No known allergies? Write that too; a blank line reads as "nobody checked."
- Conditions in plain words — the short list a responder needs: "diabetic," "pacemaker," "left-side weakness from a 2024 stroke," "mild dementia — may seem fine, isn't a reliable historian."
- Current medication list — or, better, staple the medication list behind this sheet and write "med list attached." Keeping two copies of the same list current is how both go stale.
- Contacts, in call order — which sibling answers first, the backup, the primary doctor, the pharmacy. Names, relationships, and phone numbers big enough to read under stress.
- Practical notes — the things only family knows: hearing aids (won't hear you without them), where the spare key is, the dog that will be alone in the house, "gets combative when disoriented — mention her sister Ruth, it calms her."
- Insurance and doctors — insurer and member ID, primary doctor, and the hospital system her specialists are in. Which ER she lands in can decide whether her records are on the screen or in another company's silo.
What stays off it: Social Security number, bank details, and account passwords. This sheet is designed to be handed to strangers — that's its job. Nothing on it should be worth stealing.
The template
Print this page and fill the tables in by hand, or copy the structure into a document you keep as the master. It prints cleanly on its own.
| Item | Details |
|---|---|
| Full name | |
| Goes by | |
| Date of birth | |
| Allergies & reactions | |
| Conditions | |
| Insurance & member ID | |
| Primary doctor & phone | |
| Pharmacy & phone |
Call in this order — note time zones, and who has said "call me even at 3 AM":
| Name | Relationship | Phone | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
And leave room for the things only family knows — hearing, mobility, memory, pets, the spare key, what calms them:
| Practical notes |
|---|
Who gets a copy
- The refrigerator in your parent's home — EMTs are trained to look there (and on the inside of the front door). If your area uses a Vial of Life or File of Life program, this sheet is exactly what goes in it.
- Anyone who sits with your parent — the aide, the sitter, the neighbor who checks in on Tuesdays. Handing someone this sheet is what turns "keeping an eye on Mom" into actually being able to help.
- Every sibling's phone — a photo of the current version is enough. The 2 AM call gets answered from a hotel room eventually; the sheet should be there too.
- The appointment bag — whatever wallet or tote goes to every doctor visit.
The sheet is only as good as its last update
Like every caregiving document, this one is correct the day it's written and quietly wrong after the first change nobody propagated. Give it the same three habits as the medication list: one sibling owns it, updates happen the day something changes, and every copy gets replaced when the master does — the dangerous sheet is the confident, outdated one on the refrigerator.
This is the part an app genuinely does better than paper. In Hearthwick, the Emergency Sheet is generated from what the family already keeps current — the circle's contact list, the medication schedule the reminders run on, the practical notes on your parent's profile, the next appointment — so it's assembled fresh, with today's date on it, every time anyone opens or prints it. It's free for every family, not a paid feature, because a paywall should never stand between a family and the ER. Print a copy for the refrigerator anyway; the EMT can't open your app.
Frequently asked questions
Is this the same as an advance directive or POLST?
No. Advance directives, POLST forms, and healthcare proxies are legal and medical documents you complete with your parent and their doctor or a lawyer. The emergency info sheet is practical information for the first hour — who to call and what responders need to know. Keep them near each other (a note on the sheet saying "POLST is in the red folder on the desk" is worth a line), but this sheet doesn't replace any of them.
Should the sheet include a Do Not Resuscitate note?
Write "POLST/DNR on file — location" only if a properly executed form actually exists, and say where it is. A handwritten note on a family document carries no legal weight with responders, and getting this wrong in either direction is serious. This is a conversation for your parent and their doctor — not a checkbox on a template.
My parent lives independently and would hate this. How do I bring it up?
Frame it as being about everyone else, not about them: "If your neighbor ever has to call 911, this is how she knows to call me first and where the spare key is." Most parents who resist supervision will still accept a sheet on the refrigerator — it preserves the story that they're fine, which, until the day the sheet is needed, they are.