For someone who, at times, and in a good way, most times, could be just that little bit impatient, when others, being just ordinary people, occupied with ordinary things, that constrained their ability to look beyond the horizon, to see what he could see, could not keep up with him, not just because they were slow thinkers, but also because they were only mere mortals, rather than teenagers in their early twenties, who were full of doubts, deeply worried about the world, nothing less, but full of confidence that the future is theirs, even if they didn’t really want to grow up, because they enjoyed the moment they live in so immensely, the friends they could talk to, drink with, play cards with, plan stuff, run with, learn with, find them with, and whatever else, for someone who is taller than life, so tall that neither ordinary clothes, no bed, no shoes, no desks, and no space, no idea, no goal or aim or heart, was big enough for him, for someone who had to share what he thought, who would not hold back on his opinions, who enjoyed arguments, in a good way, not being able to move (much) by himself, not being able to speak, or even make sounds, for more than seven months (with some very small exceptions), not being able to smell, not being able to taste food or drink, not being able to tell you that what you are doing or just said made absolutely no sense whatsoever, looking at you in amazement because you just made the most outrageous statement ever apparently, and not to give up on life is nothing short of a miracle, I think. But, who am I?

All the figures are fine, no need for intervention, no need for a respirator. A kind of rehab is kicking in: physios in the morning, speech therapist in the early afternoon, and sitting out in the viva-la-Thekla again in the early evening. A word on the speech therapists (I know, I know): they do not teach Pádraig to talk (what an insult even the idea of it would be). Instead, they swap the “Feuchte Nase”, the gadget in his trache that ‘stands in’ for his nose so to speak, they swap this with a speech valve which allows him to breathe in through the trache, and to breathe out through his mouth. What a feeling that must be after such a long time. They also teach him to swallow again properly, so that his saliva goes down the right tube. The plan is to do this about three times per week, increasing the time he uses this speech valve from 15 minutes to half an hour to several hours, and so on. The ultimate aim is, of course, to get rid of the trache altogether.

Tonight, a concert for him takes place in Coláiste Eoin, his secondary school, the place where he really started to discover how much fun learning, friends, and life can be; where her developed his deep love for Irish and Ireland. He is there, right in the middle of his friends.

He will not be silenced for long. Maybe he is using the silence to listen for meaning in a world full of noise?

I can’t wait.

Today’s German Music Tip
Samy Deluxe, Stumm (2009). German Rap?
“Und sag mir bitte wieso scheint es,
als ob du hier nur reich wirst, wenn du schon reich bist,
in einer Welt wo die Mehrheit arm ist
und in der du ohne Bares nur ein Scheiß bist.
Und so ist es und bleibt es
und jeder weiß es, aber ich sag es und mein es.
Jeder hier hat eine Chance verdient.

Und das ist was sie mit uns machen man sie waschen uns den Kopf,
sie regieren und manipulieren uns, überwachen uns mit Cops.
und es gibt niemand der was tun kann, die ganze Welt ist im Konsumwahn.
Alle sitzen vor der Glotze oder sie hängen vor ihren Computern.”
What’s hot
Voice, smell, taste
What’s cold
Lack of sense(s)
The German word/phrase/verse of the day
Träumer

Twitter: @forPadraig
#caringforPadraig
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