Although you probably won’t believe me, but growing up in Dortmund in the 60s and 70s was fun. We had no car, we had no telephone, we had no bathroom, we had not washing machine. But I had a bicycle. My mother made Apfelkuchen. My father smoked cigars non-stop, all given to him by grateful patients. He enjoyed them a lot. My mother didn’t – not just because the intense smok interfered with the Apfelkuchen (mit Sahne), but, more importantly, with here “Stores”. “Store” being the German (!) word for a white, long, heavy-ish, semi-transparent curtain (https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Store). Not only do ‘Stores’ no longer exist, I think, but even the word itself has been purged from the German language and I had forgotten about it altogether until today. Must have been the Thank-you-for-travellling-with-Deutsche-Bahn-coffee on my way from Hamburg to Cologne on a train that is an unheard-of 32 (not 32 or 33, but 32!) minutes late. I guess that his what privatisation does!

But back to my father’s cigars.

He sent me cuttings from the Ruhr-Nachrichten, our local Dortmund newspaper, to Salamanca in 1980/81 where I spent what probably was the best year of my life (not least because I met Pat there). They came in A5 brown envelopes and brought not just  the news from my home town but also the smell from our house to Salamanca, the smell of cigar smoke.

Many years later, when I went through old papers and when my father had long passed away, the envelopes and the cuttings still carried the smoke with them. And the memories.

There are many triggers to bring back the past. Music. Place. Taste. Smell. Sound. You’re minding your business, go along with your daily life, do what you’re doing. Then something happens and it throws you off.

You start dancing thinking you’re still 18 – and don’t worry about anyone watching. You  sing at the top of your voice that song you always sang when you were happy – and never mind that you’re a few half-tones off. You close your eyes and breathe in deep, and again – and people long gone come back to life. You eat ‘pulpo’ in a Hamburg Tapas Bar and remember that day you bought this (then) insanely expensive specialist Gallego dish in a bar in Madrid, thinking this would be far to strange for any kid to enjoy – and then watch young Pádraig enjoying it with immense gusto, not really being interested in sharing this délicatesse with anyone.

There are constant reminders and memories of the other life being triggered by uncontrollable circumstances. It triggers a strong very physical reaction and feels as if my body was flushed, being drained from head to the toes in one big wave. The mind wonders off. Tears appear. Until rationale takes over again and tells me that memories don’t have to be sad. That they are good to have and to treasure. And that every second of our life we make new memories. Memories we don’t realise today we will treasure so much in the future.

We’ve been telling Pádraig about going to Pforzheim next Sunday. That we will be there for six weeks. And that it’ll be a big change from our routine in Hamburg. There will be different people. A very different atmosphere with not just us, but loads of others being around. The main therapy room there is like a gym with loads of activity. There will be very regular meals and a time table that will be close to that of a real training camp.

We will take with us memories from Hamburg. And there will be new memories.

I tried to empty the garage in Tating today so that we could actually use it – to store things we might want to bring there from Hamburg. There was loads and it took three car loads to get rid of old, dusty, semi-destroyed stuff. Pat nearly lost it when I came back after one of these runs to the dump with a school desk in a perfect condition, and a really neat armchair also in perfect condition. It’s just unbelievable what some people throw away!

On the way back over the autobahn, we saw a really interesting road sign telling tank drivers what the maximum speed for their ‘vehicles’ was – last time I had consciously seen one of those was long before anyone even thought that the wall would come down.

There was also a brilliant view from the bridge across the Kiel Canal .looking at an old-time three-master! Traffic almost came to a stand still.

Pádraig was with a carer and Pat’s sister today, while we were out emptying the garage in Tating. It all worked out really well.

We weren’t out for a long time, but we were out. And we were not afraid to be away. It sounds like nothing, but in comparison to some months ago, or even the time he was still in hospital, this is a huge change.

What hasn’t changed is this insane feeling of being tired. The sitting in front of a computer screen an my eyes closing, of nodding off in between sentences or even words. Of taking half an hour to write a few sentences and hoping they make some kind of sense. Of wanting to write more, to describe the day in more details, to describe how Pádraig is doing in more details. But just falling asleep during the attempt.

Back in Dublin tomorrow to check on the extension.

Yesterday, Pádraig got a visit from an Irish friend in Hamburg. She had heard about what happened to him and contacted us. She came out to see us running the Hamburg Marathon but missed us. Yesterday was the second time she came out to see Pádraig and us. It is so strange that the only friend we have in Hamburg is Irish…

You’re all I have my boy – Life is no fairy tale as one day you’ll know. You are my life, my joy.

Phil Coulter playing and Johnny Logan singing on Miriam’s Saturday night programme. It’s the only song Elvis ever sang that was written by a Europan – said Johnny. In fact, it was just translated by Phil into English from the French original… In any case, it’s a nice song, a little ‘schmalzig’, but there you are.

Pat and I are in Tating. Stopped by Lütt Mattens in Garding. Had a bit to eat in St Peter Bad. Will be emptying the garage in Tating so that it can take some of the furniture from Hamburg when needed.

I am falling asleep as I write and am not sure how this writing business is going right now. So I’ll better stop. Till tomorrow.

Now, how cool is that!!! – Ronan, you are a hero! – Friends, click here and do what you can, should you not have done so already. Thank you, Ronan, and all your supporters!!!

Pat’s sister is here for a few days, so Pat and I went out to the Spanish tapas restaurant we used to go on Sunday nights from time to time when Pádraig was still in hospital. It was incredible how everything came back and how different it was from today. How lucky we are to have Pádraig living with us and getting better.

Just a few months ago, we had hoped for this. Now it is a reality.

His treatment is working and so is he, unbelievably hard.

Still not sure whether we will drive the approximately 700km to Pforzheim next week – in one go or with an overnight stay somewhere. It’s looking increasingly as if we were going to take it easy and stay overnight on the way.

PS: There has been a surge in the number of views from Mexico this week. Wonder where this is coming from?

Tomorrow week, at the latest, we’ll be on our way to Pforzheim. I think it’s about a 7 hours drive which is something we haven’t done yet. It’s also still quite hot in Germany, and the further south you go, the hotter it gets. Not something we look forward to, in terms of the weather.

Today was the second last of five marathons in as many days for Ronan. It’s still not to late to sponsor him (click here) or to follow his progress (click here). I think it’s an amazing tribute to Pádraig that someone, even though he might be as mad as a hatter, decided to run this impossible race for Pádraig! Day four was a bit of a struggle, it seems, but with just one day to go, he’ll finish this amazing race series in good time tomorrow. What an amazing person! And thank you, Ronan!

Pádraig tried spaghetti today with some real bolognese sauce, including very finely minced meat. It worked but you could see that the meat part of the Bolognese sauce caused some problems – even though he tried to wash it down with a few sips of Polish beer!

He finished 3 out of 5 marathons. There is still time to stop him, although I think he is really set to so this to the end. And – he is getting faster!!!

This morning, there were more than half a dozen of men in our kitchen, around a table that was far to small and on chairs I had to supplement from our living room. A plumber, an electrician, a carpenter, a builder, a project manager, an architect, a lift installer, me, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone. All determined to get Pádraig’s extension ready on time.

I would never have thought how complex this whole business would be: not ‘just’ the extension but also a million ‘small’ details around it: from drainage pipes to steel girders, from switches in the right places to doors and roof configurations.

Pádraig had a hot auld day in Hamburg. Today it was the speech therapist, not really a very outgoing man usually, who said that he felt Pádraig had been responding so much more and better today.

When I arrived back from Dublin and Bremen tonight, I met my friend from the North and we went for a beer and some Indian food near the Kietz. It was a bit like a chipper, but instead of chips they were selling really good Indian food. We sat outside on a wooden bench and took in life at the crossroads in St. Pauli. Amazing. A really incredible mix of people and characters. Not like Tonndorf. At all.

Today, it’s, of course, the 70th anniversary of the drop of the first of two bombs by the USA on Japan, killing 100s of thousands of people. When will they ever learn?

Honestly, Ronan. Would you not just take the money ForPádraig. Be proud. And relax? How much more does it take for you to come to your senses? – To everybody else: please help us stop Ronan from doing what no one i know has ever tried before. Click here, now!

Wednesdays are Pádraig’s busiest days with three different therapy sessions: physio, speech, and OT. Although he’s much fitter now than ever before since the accident, it’s a long day and it’s tiring. It’s pushing boundaries.

Not quite like five marathons in as many days. But pushing boundaries. Being alive?

Which is what everybody’s life should be about, don’t you think?

So, thank you Ronan! Go on and run the races of your life!

It’s late, so I’ll just leave you with some pictures of the house. It’s coming on, isn’t it?

Good night!

PS: RTÉ is showing “I’m breathing” – why does it have to be after midnight that they are showing these really good films?

I think that if we just keep going a little longer, we might be able stop this madness.

5 Marathons in 5 Days!

This is how to stop it: click here to do what you can!

Colours by the Bonny Men sung in Wheelan’s yard, recorded who knows how, sent to Pádraig by his friends – I’ve been playing this song for Pádraig, and tried to sing it with him, a lot of mornings since he left hospital. Maybe that made all the differenceJ!

I really really would like to jump up and down. Grab the person beside me by the shoulders. Shake him. Shout out loud. At him. Why??? – Or maybe better: Why not??? Tell me! Tell me now!

I won’t do it.

Not just because you don’t do stuff like that on the plane. Unless, of course, you want to be restraint to your seat, while the pilot is looking for the next airport for an emergency landing.

I won’t do it, because I know the person beside me wouldn’t have an answer for me. In fact, I very much doubt that anyone could answer that question. (Be patient. I’ll let you in a minute what the question is.)

There was I, ringing Pat back in the apartment in Hamburg, just to say that I had made it to the airport on time, despite a 40 minute “Verspätung” (!) by Die Bahn (Ireland is everywhere!). When she said she wanted to tell me something about Pádraig and Maria (Maria is “Frau L.” to everybody else. Pat never warmed the “Frau” and “Herr” business in Germany.)

Maria is Pádraig’s OT. She is absolutely great. Not just that. She has also established a ‘connection’ with Pádraig. They understand each other. And today she told Pat, that she thought, in fact, she was pretty sure, that Pádraig’s got a problem distinguishing between green and blue – while he had absolutely no problem recognising red, yellow, and green.

Yes. I was as shocked as you are now (most likely, and especially if you’ve followed Pádraig’s voyage over the past two years plus).

We were shocked not so much because Pádraig has this problem with green and blue – but because here is a therapist who has been working with Pádraig for just a few weeks and decided to check whether he can distinguish between colours. As one would do.

I’m writing this being breathless.

Because up to now, more than two years after his accident, no one has ever bothered to check whether Pádraig could actually see anything. Anything. (And we were almost afraid to find out.) Never mind recognise and distinguish between colours. (I had been planning to use an eye tracker with Pádraig but haven’t managed yet to get it setup for him.)

We are, of course, anxious, doubtful, can’t believe it. Maria has, of course, no doubt about what she and Pádraig found out this morning. That he has a problem distinguishing between green and blue – but no problem whatsoever recognising red, yellow, and green.

So here is my question: why, why did it take so long to do this? Was Maria the first therapist who thought: let’s try colours? Or was today the first time that Pádraig was able to see the difference between colours? Maybe he has improved so much? So there was no point in trying earlier?

Whatever the answer is: it is absolutely and categorically fantastic! And knowing Pádraig, he’ll get over the green/blue business pronto. No doubt.

And here is a final piece of new news: The cover story of Der Spiegel this week is “Schnell im Kopf. Hirnforschung. Wie Bewegung das Denken verbessert.” It’s a long and detailed report on brand new studies, some of them unpublished yet, amongst them by the Max-Planck-Institute for Educational Research in Berlin-Dahlem, demonstrating that there is a very strong connection between our muscles and our brain, developed over 2 million years of evolution, meaning that regular exercise can help brain development and recovery. It can, amongst other things, support learning, lessen the effects of depression, prevent dementia, Alzheimer, stress, hyperactivity and many more brain-related problems and diseases. – While the author of the article did not specifically mention it, there is no reason I could see why these finding could not also be applied to the brain and the recovery of brain functions of persons with acquired brain injuries.

We all know what the opposite, withdrawal of physical exercise and neglect, can do even to healthy persons (never mind the sick and injured) – just remember what happened, for example, to the young Romanians kept in orphanages not so long ago.

There cannot be any justification for leaving persons even with very severe acquired brain injuries without very frequent and very regular exercise and therapy. None.

Still amazed by the trip yesterday and how well Pádraig managed it. At the end of the day he must have been so exhausted. Being in the wheelchair for 7-8 hours by itself was an achievement. Traveling 4-5 hours altogether in the car must have been really tough for him.

But he enjoyed it. Being out by the see. Walking that mile over the bridge out to the restaurant he wanted me to buy so badly. Sitting out in the sun, on top of the most fabulous beach was brilliant. An Saol, so it was. Sailing down the stream in the Dreamboat. Who would have thought! A few months ago, the chief doctor didn’t even allow us to take him for a walk in the park of the hospital. I was thinking, maybe next time we go we’d invite him along to show him what life, An Saol, with a serious brain injury is all about.

There we were, the tree of us. And so happy. All of us.

After a hectic day yesterday, Pádraig took it easy today. Slow, easy-going in the morning, an easy breakfast and lunch, and I long, but relaxed, almost two hours’ walk along the Wandse stream on one of the most beautiful lazy Sunday afternoons you could imagine.

Today, I read the articles that were published in the Irish Times over the weekend. It’s heartbreaking. And it brings back memories of not just the heartbreak, but also the never-ending problems that shouldn’t have been problems at all. One article reported how friends standing in for what were supposed to be multi-million euro insurance policies covering every eventuality: “Confusion at times about who was going to foot the bill for medical expenses and rehabilitation was one reason why family, friends and students organised the fundraisers at home.” Insurers making sure they weren’t loosing any of their precious money to parents in horrendous circumstances: “There is a separate battle on the insurance front. Although the students were covered by J-1 travel insurance, some families say they are under pressure to relocate the students to Ireland to continue recovery.” And then, the hope to get appropriate treatment when they get back home to Ireland: “When they get home to Ireland the students will go initially to an acute-care hospital, then move on to the National Rehabilitation Hospital in Dún Laoghaire, Co Dublin, or a similar medical centre to continue their recovery.”

Not even the author of the Irish Times article, the paper’s Washington Correspondent Simon Carswell, seems to know that there are *no* medical centres “similar” to the National Rehabilitation Hospital in Ireland… that you have to wait a year to get into it with a severe brain injury and that treatment is limited to three months…

Oh, before I forget: I believe this mad man is still planning to run the five maratóns in five days next week. Have you tried to stop him? Click here to do what you can!

An  Saol  Living your life with a severe acquired brain injury