Open letter evaluation of Kaiser Facility

Open letter to Kaiser

In the spirit on visibility in the community.

April 13, 2026Kaiser Permanente Lakewood Medical Offices

8301 W. Alameda Ave.

Lakewood, CO 80226

Re: Facility Assessment — Accessible Seating, Patient Safety, and Inclusive Design — Interior and Exterior

Kaiser Permanente recently opened its new Lakewood Medical Offices — a beautiful, modern, 116,500-square-foot facility designed, by your own description, to "improve the patient experience." It is state-of-the-art. It is LEED-certified. It is, by all accounts, impressive.

And yet, a critical detail appears to have been overlooked — the safety, the wellbeing, and the comfort of your patients.

Why is it that people with disabilities or physical limitations so often feel like an afterthought — even within a healthcare community like Kaiser Permanente? This is not a question asked in anger. It is asked in genuine frustration, and it deserves a genuine answer. The very patients who need medical care the most — those managing chronic conditions, recovering from surgery, living with mobility challenges — are the ones most likely to find that the environment meant to serve them falls short of their most basic needs.

Walk into any waiting area and you will find the same standard-height chairs that have furnished medical offices for decades. For many patients, that is fine. For a significant portion of the population that Kaiser Permanente serves — patients recovering from hip replacements, lumbar surgery, spinal procedures, and other orthopedic interventions — sitting in and rising from a standard low chair is not merely uncomfortable. It can be painful, unsafe, and in some cases contraindicated by their surgeon.

This is not a niche concern. Hip replacements and back surgeries are among the most common procedures performed on Kaiser's membership. These patients are in your waiting rooms every single day.

The population served by Kaiser Permanente Lakewood is aging — and that is not a trend, it is a demographic certainty. The Baby Boomer generation is now firmly in its sixties, seventies, and eighties. The number of Americans aged 65 and older is projected to nearly double over the coming decades. These are not future patients. They are your patients today, sitting in your waiting rooms today, navigating your facility today. Designing a brand-new building without meaningfully addressing their physical needs is not just an oversight — it is a missed opportunity to lead.

And the disability community deserves equal attention here. People with disabilities are no longer a minority in the margins of American life — they are one of the largest and fastest-growing segments of the population. When you account for aging-related disability, chronic illness, post-surgical limitations, and mobility impairment, the numbers are striking: according to the CDC, one in four American adults lives with some form of disability. That number grows every year. This community is not an afterthought or a special accommodation — it is a substantial portion of your membership, your revenue, and your responsibility. A medical facility, of all places, should understand that better than anyone.

The solution is neither complicated nor expensive. Higher chairs — commonly called "raised" or "bariatric" chairs — are widely available in styles that are attractive and professional. Furniture manufacturers offer them in configurations that complement standard waiting room aesthetics.

You have no bariatric chairs at all! Raised chairs a few and far between. One chair says to me that you are trying to meet minimum standards. Rather than make use of the space , inclusive for everyone.

A thoughtful mix does not require replacing every seat in the building. Even dedicating a clearly marked section of each waiting area to elevated seating — conveniently located near check-in desks and elevators — would make a measurable difference for the patients who need it most.

But the conversation about seating cannot stop at the waiting room door. Every area of this building where a patient might pause, rest, or wait deserves the same thoughtful consideration. The hallways at the new Lakewood facility are long and spacious — a genuine architectural achievement. And yet for a patient managing a disability, recovering from a procedure, or simply carrying the physical weight of age, a long hallway is not a showcase. It is a challenge. There are no seats along those corridors. There is nowhere to pause for a moment before continuing on. That is a gap that needs to be addressed right away.

The same is true near the restrooms. A companion waits outside the bathroom door while their family member is inside — there is nowhere to sit. A patient steps out of a restroom and needs just a moment to collect themselves before walking on — there is nowhere to rest. These are not unusual situations. They happen every hour of every day in a facility this size, and the absence of simple seating in these locations is felt keenly by the people who need it.

And then there is a question that goes beyond seating entirely — one that strikes at patient safety itself.

What happened to the lessons we learned from COVID-19?

This nation — and this healthcare system — lived through a pandemic that taught us, at enormous cost, the dangers of mixing sick and well patients in shared spaces. We learned it the hard way. Medical facilities across the country scrambled to create separation, to designate distinct waiting areas, to protect vulnerable patients from unnecessary exposure. Those lessons were paid for dearly.

So why, in a brand-new facility planned and built in the years immediately following that pandemic, is there no meaningful separation between well patients and sick patients? Who made that decision? Was it the architects? The administrators? The designers focused on sustainability certifications and square footage? And did anyone in that process stop to ask — what about the immunocompromised patient sitting next to someone with a respiratory illness? What about the elderly patient, the post-surgical patient, the person with a chronic condition that makes every exposure a serious risk?

Once again, the people most vulnerable — the disabled, the elderly, the medically fragile — appear to have been forgotten in the design process. A facility of this size and this investment, built with this much intention around environmental sustainability, had every opportunity to also build with intention around patient health and safety. Separate well and sick waiting areas are not a radical idea. They are a proven, practical, and overdue standard. Their absence here is not just a design gap. It is a patient safety concern.

And then there is the outside.

Outdoor seating appears to have been an afterthought — or forgotten entirely. Yet the need is real and it is daily. A patient finishes their appointment and needs to sit down while they wait for a ride. A family member steps outside to get some air during a long visit. Someone has made the journey from the third floor to the lobby to the parking lot and simply needs a moment before continuing. These are not edge cases. These are the ordinary rhythms of a busy medical facility, playing out dozens of times every day.

Outdoor seating — accessible, comfortable, and appropriately elevated for post-surgical and older patients — does something beyond the practical. It signals something. It says that this building was designed with every person in mind, not just the ones who are fully healthy and fully mobile. It says that comfort does not end at the front door. A few well-placed benches with backs and armrests, some shade, and seating at an appropriate height would cost very little and communicate a great deal.

You invested an extraordinary amount of money in a new building. You chose sustainable construction. You chose larger exam rooms. You chose solar power. These are all commendable thoughtful decisions.

Now consider what was missed: seating in your waiting rooms that accommodates post-surgical and aging patients. Rest points in your hallways and outside your restrooms. Distinct areas for well and sick patients. And accessible, comfortable outdoor seating for the people who simply need a moment before they move on.

A medical facility that overlooks the physical comfort and safety of its most vulnerable patients — in its waiting rooms, its hallways, and on its grounds — sends an unintended message. You can do better. You should do better. And the good news is, it would not take much to get there. Just meeting the Ada requirements is not enough. Because you need to be more inclusive and welcoming to all types of people. Disabilism is everywhere it can be stopped by inclusion.

Respectfully submitted,

David Finch

Community Accessibility Advocate

Arvada, Colorado