Finding Our New Normal
Jessie M | Tuesday, August 18, 2009 at 11:37PM It's been a long week.
My husband, who knew my birthday was coming up and evidently decided he would come back from deployment early as a surprise present, managed to get himself half-blown up over in Afghanistan. I told him he was an overachiever and he should have just gotten me a card.
While I'm waiting for him to be shipped back to the hospital here (which should hopefully happen today), I'm trying to figure out the toilet situation. See, we live in a ground floor, relatively (though not fully) handicap-accessible apartment. While there is no way a wheelchair will fit into the bathroom in our bedroom, the hallway bathroom has perfect access.
The hallway bathroom also has my wheelchair-using son's modified toilet seat bolted to it.
This means that once my husband (who thanks to that IED will be having various important bits of bone bolted back together in his heels sometime in the upcoming weeks and will thus also be in a wheelchair for Quite Some Time) gets back to the house, every time he wishes to use the restroom I will have to unbolt the toilet. Either that or I will have to rent a standalone handicap-accessible toilet, which is apparently referred to as a "portable commode chair," by the way, and is essentially an updated chamber pot with handrails. Who even uses the word "commode" any more? Good thing Jer's arms weren't injured, because I went and looked at our marriage contract, and emptying my husband's chamber pot was definitely not listed in my marital duties.
All kidding and logistical details aside, the reality of the situation sounds pretty grim. I have a son with an extremely rare genetic condition and probable shortened life span who requires twenty-four hour a day care, and now I also have a grievously injured husband who, if he is not permanently disabled by his injuries, will at the very least require many, many hours of intensive rehabilitation in the coming months.
The good news is that we are not sailing in entirely uncharted waters. We've got some perspective-- and we know from prior experience that things will not always seem this bad. I remember leaving the hospital three-and-a-half years ago after they had just told us that there was a 90% chance our son would not make it through his first surgery, and even if he did that he would be severely cognitively and physically disabled. I walked out and was stunned to see the sun beaming down and people walking around smiling and chatting with each other. Didn't they know the world was ending? How could they be happy when upstairs, babies like my son were dying? It didn't seem possible that I would ever smile again.
And one year later we were not only totally adjusted to the medical routines, endless doctor's appointments, and the ups and downs of parenting a child with special needs, but we were happy. Life went on, and all of the things that seemed so grim and scary in the beginning just became part of our routine: our new normal.
So while things seem really difficult now, I believe we'll spend the next year learning a whole new host of medical terms, treatments, therapies, and routines, and by the time that year is up (or if not in a year at least some time in the future), we will have our new normal. And I believe it will be a normal just as filled with hope and joy as our lives were before the events of last Monday evening. I don't want to make light of the situation; I never wanted this to happen and we'll have a long, hard road ahead of us. But in the end, we don't have to make this a horrible, world-ending tragedy. My husband is still my husband no matter what his feet and legs look like, and though we've been dealt a huge blow someday we'll both be back on our feet, and it doesn't really matter to me if it's literally or only figuratively.
This too shall pass.
Jessie McGuffey writes about her daily life on her blog, Connor's Song, where you can find current updates on her husband's condition.
Reader Comments (13)
your courage is so inspiring
Bless you and your family! The attitude you have about it all is amazing, and I know that you're right........this too shall pass. That was the favorite saying of one of my all-time best teachers, a dear lady who was diagnosed with leukemia during the year I was in her class. It's become one of my favorite sayings as well.
You are some kind of lady, mother, wife, person. My thoughts are with your family, but part of that is hoping you find a way to proliferate your strength and your swift shuffling into healthy perspective.
It will be hard. Hard in new ways, though as you say it is not unchartered territory. But yes, it will be looked back upon one day. From a happier place.
you are everything i want to be when i grow up.
sending love and continued strength to you and jeremy and connor.
FIrst of all, thank you and your husband for your selfless service to your country and fellow Americans.
Secondly, your courage, humor and above all, LOVE, are clear in your writings - and have obviously taken you and your family a long way already. Your perspective is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
May God bless you with strength, patience and funny moments to help you along the way.
- Karen
I admire the choices you and hour husband make to continnue to live life and let yourselves have happiness in whatever forms it comes. Reminds me of the saying "Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional." No life is without pain; it's up to us to choose how we handle it.
You & Jeremy do it with grace.
You have an incredible load on your shoulders, so it's good that you can maintain your perspective on being lucky that this was not, as you say, "a horrible, world-ending tragedy." I am sure you have thought of this, but I was just wondering, would the Army offer you any support for when Jer comes home? Is there a social worker you can reach out to? What about reaching out to a social worker at the local VA hospital and asking for support? I wish I knew more about this, but it just seems to me that there must be some sort of help you can get. And I wholeheartedly add my thanks to Karen's for what your husband and you are enduring for our country.
Thanks, everyone, for all your kind words!
Ellen, we have been offered overwhelming support from the military here. I'm sure we'll get all the nitpicky little details figured out well before Jer is released from the hospital. I just worry about these things because I'm a details-oriented person.
Also toilets are funny.
~Jess
You have the gift of humor which will always help in the tough times. I know what you mean about finding a new normal...and I hope you find this new one as quickly and gracefully as you did when your son was born. Wishing you all the best!
Mary
I already liked you loads while reading your post; but when I read your comment -- "Also toilets are funny" -- it was BLOGLOVE! You are great, and I hope to read some silly future posts about the commode situation.
I admire your determination to be still despite of the challenges that comes along your way. Your faithfulness as a wife and as a mother is something that I adore. God bless you and your family in a very special way.
yes! toilets are funny!
i so admire your resilience and your sense of humor.
Ayeeee!! Jessie, this is A LOT to bear. Good for you for keeping a bit of humor in it all...we absolutely have to do that to maintain what little sanity we have, don't we? Thinking of you guys and wishing you the very best. And, uh, sorry to hear about the commode situation!