The New Normal

There’s something quietly deceiving about the incident log.

I looked at it the other day and said to Tim, “Wow, your mom is doing great. We haven’t logged a single thing in over a week.” And technically, that was true. No new falls, no dressing confusion, no camera alerts at 2 a.m.

But then I zoomed out.

Two weeks ago, we were logging multiple incidents a day: three falls in three days, struggling to get dressed, alarms going off. It felt endless.

So what changed?

Not her.

After the third fall, she stopped being allowed to get up unescorted. Whether it’s the aide with her or Tim or me running downstairs the second the camera alert goes off, someone is always there. That’s why there are no new falls. Not because she’s steadier, but because she’s never alone.

Same thing with dressing. No more entries about her trying to put her head through an armhole, because someone is dressing her now. That moment of confusion hasn’t gone away, we just don’t give it a chance to happen.

This is what the new normal looks like. You build workarounds. You reduce risk. You patch the leaks so the whole thing doesn’t flood.

And suddenly the log is quiet, not because the storm passed, but because you stopped opening the windows.

That’s what makes the log so powerful. It’s not just a crisis tracker. It’s a record of how we adapt, how we shift, how the definition of “doing well” keeps moving. Sometimes the log tells you things are getting worse. Other times, the silence is what tells you the most.

If your log has gone quiet, it might be time to ask: what’s really changed?
The 🧭 Incident Log isn’t just about what’s happening—it’s about how you’re responding.