images2Whatever it is, it seems that the older I get, the more I worry. So, is worrying a sign of getting old?

Day 3 in the UKE, the day the operation should have taken place. It is not clear yet when it will happen now, but the earliest will be Thursday, possibly Monday.

Last night, Pat and I bought tickets to Unknownattend the civil case against the driver of the truck that hit Pádraig. It is scheduled to start on 13 April in Boston and will most likely take at least a week, probably longer.

In the evenings, I never know where the days went. They seem long in the morning but then accelerate a lot: before I know, it’s evening and I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. imagesEach change, each new location we end up in, is like starting all over. It takes days before we have all the ‘stuff’ together: blankets, pillows, suctioning gadgets (to clean his mouth), food, drips, and the list goes on and on, not to talk about physios and logos, and new nurses, new rules, new helpers, new new new.

For Pádraig, these changes must be really tough – or, maybe, and thinking about it again, they aren’t? He wasn’t one that worried too much about things. Even when flying with Ryanair, he never queued and always walked in last, in a very relaxed way, to find his seat – and who, who is ever relaxed on a Ryanair flight I ask you?

Worrying is a sign of getting old. So I’ll stop right here and now. (Though I’m not really sure whether that’ll make me feel younger, at least I’ll stop wasting time worrying, and get onto the Dreamboat instead:)