Embracing the New Normal

by Emme Gannon @GannonEmme

The ringing phone woke me from a sound sleep. The caller ID flashed bright in the darkness. It was from the memory care assisted-living, where my husband had been for three months. The voice on the other end was somber. “Your husband has collapsed and is unresponsive. We’ve called EMS.” After a pause she added, “But he’s breathing.” 

Strength drained from my legs as I jumped from bed. Steadying myself, I threw on a dress and sandals and ran upstairs to wake my visiting granddaughter. “Wake up. Pop’s on his way to the hospital.” Like a loyal soldier, she obeyed my command and met me in the car, strength and comfort pouring from her tender heart. We drove out into the darkness. Into the unknown. 

The ER was crowded, with doctors and nurses swiftly appearing in and out of the walled cubicles. Emergency codes blared intermittently over the intercom, followed by the sound of hurried feet. The air carried the antiseptic scent of bleach and alcohol.   

My husband lay still, eyes closed, a beeping monitor attached to him by small wires taped to his chest. A doctor turned from him as we entered and told us that all tests conducted so far were normal. They had yet to discover why he was still unresponsive. And then he left with a promise to return.

 I tossed my purse on the nearest chair and went to my husband, cupping his face with my hands. I kissed his forehead, then moved my lips close to his ear, whispering, “It’s Emme. I love you.” I told him to listen to Jesus’ voice for I knew the Holy Spirit of the living God was alive in Him and was conscious on every level. I prayed for healing. Then, with a heavy heart, I released Him to God.

My granddaughter Cheri clutched his hand. “Nana! He moved his little finger.” We looked at one another, new hope emerging from our anxious hearts. We held our vigil for over thirty minutes before he regained consciousness. With wide eyes he searched the room, until his eyes landed on our faces.  A faint smile appeared and then faded as he let loose with an agonizing cry. The pain that had rendered him unconscious struck again. Cheri ran for help. Doctors in green-clad scrubs moved us aside and swarmed his bed.

After a week in the hospital and a week in skilled nursing, my husband was able to go back to memory care, cognitively impaired by the emergency, but no longer needing skilled nursing. However, the trauma of the event still had us reeling, for most often a medical emergency and a change in surroundings bring permanent cognitive decline to a dementia patient. 

God knew what we would need during this time and sent help. A day earlier my granddaughter had arrived for a visit. She stayed by my side and asked the doctors tough questions as I surrounded my husband with more of myself. After taking her to the airport several days later, I arrived home to find my son James waiting for me. His face was drawn from the long drive. I told him all the ways his dad had declined. He looked at me, compassion in his eyes, “Mom, this is Dad’s new normal. Try to embrace it.” His words struck me. Normal meant I didn’t have to fight to rescue the past. The present, as terrible as it was, was all I had. Strangely, his words brought relief.

Our new normal is any event that transforms our present world and changes the direction of our lives. This type of metamorphosis, whether good or one we deem bad, takes us to the unknown—a place we often avoid at all cost. We build imaginary walls around ourselves and those we love. We strive to obey all the rules. We work to make sure nothing crashes upon our well-manicured world. But still life interrupts. We tumble into the abyss, arms flailing, and cry out, “Where are you God.” We mourn what was. What could be. What should be. Fear, always crouching in the background, pounces upon us and our worst nightmare is realized, life is not safe. 

It doesn't matter if it's life with a loved one, or a detour in our writing. We must look for God in the midst of life's detours. 

And then, God speaks in a still small voice. “I will never leave you or forsake you.” And we remember. For some reason, unknown to us, God allows tragedy to go through His permissive will. He is also faithful to restore that which is lost. After the traumatic dust has settled, God will pick up the pieces and set us on a new course—one that is unfamiliar to us and can only be navigated successfully by allowing Him to lead the way. It will be the new normal, but basked in His redemptive love.

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Emme Gannon is a wife, mother, and grandmother who loves to write stories that stir the heart. Her award-winning writing has appeared in Focus on the Family magazine, several anthologies, and numerous newsletters. She just completed her first novel.