Ich bin jetzt raus,  jetzt steh ich hier. Das Wasser riecht nach Gift. – My great idea to

show off Hamburg’s Elbe beach did not work out. “Imagine, going for a walk in Dublin port on a miserable December morning”, was the kindest comment this walk provoked. After a very relaxing night and a long breakfast, we had a few hours – so I decided to introduce the family to what German families do: going for a walk. I had undoubtedly discovered a ‘Geheimtip’ with Hamburgers: all car parks were full, the streets were busy with families, couples, dogs, prams, joggers, down and outs – and all were heading for the beach. Across, you could get an idea of the ‘große weite Welt’: ginourmous container vessels from South America and China were getting ready. For Germans, this is a really exciting place. For a Dubliner, well, it turned out they’d prefer Dollymount or Sandymount, or Howth or Bray any day of the week.

We passed on all the Christmas wishes we had received for Pádraig to himself. I am sure that, being away from Ireland and especially at this time of the year, must be very hard for him – but knowing that so many people are thinking of him and keeping him in their thoughts is second best to actually being with them.

Most people either have someone in the family or know someone who has been affected

by cancer, a coronary disease, or a renal illness. There are, unfortunately, so many of them, they have support groups, they have a lobby. I am probably not alone here when I say that until Pádraig’s accident, I had never known anyone, nor heard of anyone even remotely close to me, who had remained in a coma for such a long time. I had never hear about the term Acquired Brain Injury, or ABI for short. I had no idea how people with an ABI were cared for, what their needs were, what an ABI meant for the person with the ABI and

their family. All of that has changed. To the extend that the nurse today said, ‘Herr Kollege, würden Sie bitte…’ and then followed the request to switch off the alarms on the respirator for two minutes, to allow him to disconnect it from Patrick and switch him over to the oxygen support, which is when he asked me to switch off the respirator completely and move the tubes out of the way. There was I operating a respirator. My father, who always wanted me to become a doctor, would have been proud of me. This is the ‘stuff’ that is happening. This stuff is full of numbers, figures, machines, charts, medical dictionaries, and technology. Stuff is cold and heartless. There is no feeling in stuff. Yet, it is important to keep the wheels turning, to make sure nothing goes wrong.

In the middle of this, there is Pádraig’s presence and suffering, and enormous strength and willpower. This single-mindedness that could drive you bananas, but usually achieved what he had aimed for. It’ll be no different this time.

Wir sind die letzten von hundertzehn – wir warten bis die Zeit vergeht.

Today’s German Music Tip
Spliff, Déja Vu (live 1982). The lyrics are pure magic.
What’s hot
The Beach on the River Elbe
What’s cold
The Beach on the River Elbe
The German word/phrase/verse of the day
Ausnahmezustand (usually used in a different context – but suggested by an old friend as a description of our current circumstances)

Twitter: @forPadraig
#caringforPadraig
web: http://www.caringforPadraig.org