It was a bit of a ‘lively’ night last night. Didn’t sleep that much which had the advantage that I managed to see a dramatic full moon on the sky over Hamburg.
When the ‘Notarzt’ and the ambulance crews had left I was there wondering had I done the right thing. I had not the faintest idea of what was going on and why Pádraig had started to get into this situation where all his vital signs went into overdrive. In a different life and time, I would have pleaded with them to take him to hospital.
When the kids were small, we went to Temple Street Hospital for infinitely less important reasons. Last night I thought I knew what they could do for Pádraig in hospital and, luckily, the ‘Notarzt’ saw my point (she was a nice, experienced, calm, and mature woman) and agreed.
I was so reliefed when the shivering went down and then stopped, he calmed down, and the fever stopped going up. Because I’m not sure when, at which point, I would have made the second call to the emergency services which is when they most definitely would have taken him into hospital.
The way it worked out it was a long night. With a full moon. By the time I fell asleep, Pádraig was recovering, and I just couldn’t take anymore. When I woke up this morning I had to look at the picture I had taken of the full moon, and check for the spare key to the apartment door in my pocket, the key I was lucky enough to have kept in the car, to convince myself that the previous night had not just been a bad dream. That it really had all happened. Because Pádraig was just like he had been the previous morning.
— Thinking about it again now, I am wondering what the difference would have been, is, between a nightmare and reality. Nightmares can be worse than reality and reality often feels like a bad nightmare.