Few people would remember John Spratt. Do you?

Some years ago this day, we all went up to Whitefriar Street in Dublin, to the church where the relics of St. Valentine are kept by the Carmelites. It’s a magic place and the idea that the great Saint’s remains are there with us in the middle of Dublin ist just astonishing. On his day, today, the place is packed with those who still hope to find love and those who are afraid that they might loose it.

There were no cards in the post box for us today. It was much better than that: Pádraig’s friends were still here to visit him. It’s brilliant the way they have been keeping up their visits which are, I’m sure, not always easy to organise. It must be great for Pádraig to see and hear his old friends around, familiar voices, the updates on what is going on, who is doing what. For his friends, I am sure, it’s equally great to stay in touch, to learn how to spot the small but significant improvements in Pádraig’s condition and to figure out how they can stay connectd with him.

They brought a late and very unexpected birthday present which was really kind.

One of them also said he is going to join Cian and myself for the Hamburg marathon at the end of April. Our little international running Club is growing!!!

John Spratt, the great preacher, brought the remains of St. Valentine to Dublin from where he is now watching over all of us who love.

During the night of 13 to 14 February 70 years ago today, Dresden was bombed by the Allies. Several hundred thousand bombs were dropped on a city in two 15 minute night waves of bombing and further waves the following day. 25,000 people died. Most of the mothers in a maternity hospital died, most of their babies survived because they had been evacuated earlier. The bombing caused a huge fire storm in the city and was not aimed to destroy a particular military target, it was a blanket bombing, in the spirit of what they called a few years later ‘shock and awe’.

The Allies demonstrated their power, the Nazis used it as a demonstration of the evilness of the enemy.

The news today of the commemorations made me think of what is going on today in the Middle East, in Western Ukraine, and in North West Africa.

There are people being maimed and killed in the most horrific way every second of the day. They are people with plans for their future. And then life hijacked their plans and their lives. One minute they thought they were in charge of their destiny. Next. It all goes up in smoke.

“Illusion of control’ is what psychologists call the illness some people have, i.e. they believe they are in charge.

When I was thinking about how to illustrate is, I couldn’t think of a better images…

Today, Pádraig had a visit from three really good friends from Dublin. The first friends from Dublin visiting Pádraig in the new apartment! And they brought, well, Gummibärchen!

And – I almost forgot the best thing to tell you: yesterday, his (relatively) ‘small’ physio took Pádraig, sat him up on the side of the bed, feet on the floor, lifted him up and got him to ‘stand-up’ — no lifter, no nothing, just some great support from the physio. Over weeks had we asked whether that was possible and had always been told that Pádraig was too tall to make the standup trick work without mechanical support.

They never got it, even after 14 months and more of Pádraig’s birthday coming in: there are no limits to what is possible, nothing that prevents anyone from trying, and Pádraig, well Pádraig never took ‘no’ for an answer. He knew that he couldn’t control life, but that he could always make the very best out of an even very difficult situations bestellt. And he was under no illusion about the difficulty in doing this…

I haven’t been out for a few days and I don’t feel the urge to do so. The day passes around people calling to the apartment: speech therapist, physio, carers, doctor, even the pharmacy delivers medication to the door. Between MOTOMed arm (!) and leg training, foot bath, eating, drinking, hair washing, the days pass in a flash. The nights pass between short spouts of sleep, listening to breathes, turning around every 3 hours or so, checking the pulse, oxygen, time regularly…

I’m waiting for Pat, I talked to Pádraig’s friends who have arrived in Hamburg, the first to visit Pádraig in the new place. And there is no “Besuchszeit”, there’s no-one checking who comes when and stays for how long. There’s no need to wear gowns, not at home. And not, because the GP’s tests came up with an all clear. Isn’t it amazing: you leave the “isolation” room and it seems that you leave the germs behind.

Tomorrow will be a good day: with friends visiting Pádraig, Pat back in the apartment, and Pádraig in the middle of it all!

PS: Today is “Weiberfastnacht” – I still can’t believe the non-stop “traditional” Karnevalsfeiern on the TV. It’s all marches, uniforms, and a very special sense of humour!

Are you interested in diversity? Cultural differences? Alterity?

It’s easy and straight forward when they are big. The differences, I mean.

It’s tricky, when they are small. So small that you think there ain’t any.

So on the surface, the Irish and the Germans are pretty similar. Ok, Germans don’t have a sense of humour (or their very own one), they don’t buy rounds, they have ID cards, and their police force is armed. Irish buses are never on time, people cross the road whenever they want to (rather than waiting for the green man), and they insist in driving on the wrong side of the road. – But none of that is substantial. One would think.

There is another difference: Irish stop celebrating their birthday once they’re 21, Germans make a big deal out of any of their birthdays.

Today I had a sad day. I thought: all what I had planned, all what I had thought I would be doing, everything I had imagined just evaporated that day in June. None of what is going on in my life, in our lives, is anywhere near of that I could have imagined in my strangest dreams. I’m now an expert carer. I have learnt about hospital care in three different countries. I’m an expert (well…) in neurological rehabilitation. I know more than some of the experts about wheelchairs, lifters, beds, MOTOMeds, and many other “Hilfsmittel” that are essential for the care of someone who cannot look after themselves. I know where the money goes, where it is spent, where it is not spent, what it all costs, and why people get involved in care. None of that was even on my radar less than two years ago.

More. I thought I could do whatever I wanted to do. I thought I could influence the way the world goes, the way people act, the way we deal with each other. Now I know what it feels like to be told what to do, what is good and what is bad, what it feels to be at the mercy of others. So vulnerable, so raw, so desperate at times.

My sister and brother in-law were here earlier for a few hours. But now, I’m here with Pádraig alone celebrating my birthday. A big deal for a German, those birthdays. And Pádraig and I have never been closer to each other before. The most beautiful birthday present. This feeling. This connectedness. This understanding.

I’m a wanderer.
I wander between worlds, in and out.
I hear and listen and understand but
I don’t seem to be heard.
I’m a wanderer.

I’m an explorer.
I explore places in my mind and yours.
I get to places at the speed of light, at the blink of an eye but
I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for.
I’m an explorer.

I’m a mover.
I move people’s hearts and minds.
I touch and inspire people a thousand miles away but
I can’t hug them, lie beside them, kiss them.
I’m a mover.

I’m a wanderer.
I wander in time and space and place.
I’m wandering in my father’s rooms in boots of Spanish leather and
Walk the path not taken in your company in my mind because
You are a wanderer too.

3.1bn euro in the bank. That is: 350 Irish people having hundreds of accounts in HSBC bank hiding billions of euro from the tax man in Switzerland. And: six police men arrest an elected member of the Irish parliament because he was involved in stopping the car of a minister during a protest against water charges.

One country where there ain’t enough money to open enough wards to cater for sick people. Another country where sick people are ‘traded’ between care providers and hospitals – especially those high dependency patients that need a lot of care over many hours and who bring in loads of cash. It like feeding on the misery and desperation of others.

At times, I am so furious, so mad, in such a state of awe at what is a world that does not make sense to me at all at all. What has happened to common sense, to justice, to humanity? Can we only find that with our family and friends?

When I think that we are almost expected to hand over Pádraig, our son, who is in the most vulnerable of vulnerable situations, to people who think “profit” first, that we are almost expected to do this because we are told that we need to continue with our own life too, because we need to look at our own physical and mental health – then, I feel shivers running down my spine.

Pádraig is getting better, he can understand us, he reacts, and – bit by bit – he is learning how to communicate. To interact with him, you need time, you need to be patient, and you need to be interested in Pádraig – and not so much in the money you can or could make or spend.

My guess is that this would be the case with almost all the other persons in his situation – but no-one, apart from their families and friends, is providing the support they need in the way they need it. Es ist zum Mäusemelken.

The Germans have a problem: Anlagennotstand.

If you think of what dominated some papers’ headlines recently, every country had their problem: there’re soup kitchens in Greece; huge unemployment especially amongst young people in Spain; a record number of trolleys in Irish hospitals; you name it…

German don’t have that problem. Theirs are different.

The last issue of Der Spiegel captured what moves the Germans on its title page, showing a worried-looking couple.

You almost felt like offering them help. Then, looking down the picture, you notice that they carry large stacks of cash.

So, what’s the problem, you begin to wonder? Are they bank robbers and had they just been caught? – So you read on…

Their problem, it turns out, is: “Wohin mit dem Geld?” Their “crisis”, their “Notstand” is: where to with the money? Wohin mit dem Geld? It’s farcical, comical, tragic, maybe even obscene? The world is on fire. And the most influential and serious German magazine cares about those who don’t know what to do with all that money in times of low interest rates.

Die Problem möcht’ ich auch mal haben.

Today was a brilliant day, blue skies, spring-like. The three of us brought Pádraig’s sister to the Tonndorf train station to say good-bye. It was really sad to see her leaving, but at the same time, it was Pádraig’s first time in a train station in a long time. We discovered that (once they fix the lift to the platform) Pádraig could travel with us into town in less than 10 minutes.

Some day soon!

Last night, Pádraig decided to put us to the test.

His oxygen went down and the heart beat up.

Over two hours, we tried what we could think of to slow down his heart and get the oxygen up. Eventually, we managed. We staid calm and Pádraig managed.

So today, we took it slowly, got up late, Pádraig staid in bed, no MOTOMed, no walk down to Tonndorf – we were just taking it easy. And it seemed to have had the effect we had been looking for. Tonight, we’re all a bit more relaxed, less on the edge. Pádraig’s heart beat and oxygen levels are almost back to normal.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I think about myself that I’m a bit “schwer von Kapee“. Sometimes it takes me a while. To understand. That  I got a great teacher.

He taught me to be patient. He taught me to be grateful for the small things in life. He taught me that people have to come first always, and second and third, and only then the things we think we cannot live without. Caring for others. Realising that this doesn’t make us loose time, but that you become a happy, friendly, balanced person for it. Yes, change take time. But change is possible.

It was a happy day today. The family was almost complete. In one place. We had a sense of life. As it happens. Together.

What do you think when you think about Friday?

The Late Late Show? Not really. But then, Kodaline are on…. And the very first guest, a celebrity chef, says he’s in Ireland because he met his wife in the Conradh…

I’m watching this, trying not to fall asleep, trying to write, trying to remember what happened today.

The day started like no other day so far: I could see the sun rising over the horizon, there was a blue sky, and snow on the terrace glittering, reflecting the light. I had to go back to the Schön-Klinik to pick up some papers. I met some doctors: a young one who immediately asked how Pádraig was doing; a more senior one who was focussed on the paperwork; and some of his great therapists. It was a strange visit. This is where Pádraig staid for more than a year. Unbelievable.

In the afternoon, Maria arrived. Usually, he relaxes around lunch time. Today, he didn’t close an eye, trying to stay awake, not to miss the moment of her arrival. It was great for us all to see Maria again.

And now: we’ll rest trying to gather some strength for the days to come. Good night. Sleep sound and well.

And now: I think I’m dreaming or asleep. Jesus Christ Superstar with GoGo-Girls dressed in tiny red “dresses”. On the Late Late.

Listening to the news realising it’s no use. It’s desperate: war, murders, “only” 400 people on trolleys.Today.

Still looking for someone to work 6 hours or more in Hamburg to help us looking after Pádraig.

There was this person on the news tonight who couldn’t leave hospital because there had not been any money to pay for his home care. Here, there is the money, but there aren’t any people to take it. What a crazy world.

What had I expected after yesterday? Days like that cannot be repeated.

Pádraig was exhausted and a bit “under the weather”. But I still feel this vibe, the relationship, the energy – all of this stuff that makes me impatient. I find it so hard to wait for all those exciting things that are going to happen. Can’t wait to drive Pádraig through Hamburg (and on to Alaska). For hm to visit and see his friends.

It’s not going to happen tomorrow but I can see it on the horizon.

The days are getting longer, there’s spring in the air, there’s new light, new energy, new life.

And the wide open horizon is waiting for us.

In the meantime, my two and a half days of home alone are coming to an end in about half an hour. It was some experience. But I know we are better together:)