Had I not been there, I would have found it hard to believe what happened this morning at what was one of the most energetic, positive, fun-filled, and ambitious therapy sessions so far. We were four, in addition to Pádraig, and at the end of that hour, or hour and a half, we all felt we had done not just a bit of really hard work, but that we had achieved something really significant.

The videos show how Pádraig is able to push his legs (note the plural!) up against a ‘weight’, in addition to gravity, when he is lying on his stomach. This would have been almost unthinkable a year ago. And the videos provide just a glimpse at what happened this morning. We, and especially Pádraig, had every reason to feel such a sense of achievement. It was a very special, really happy morning!

The best ever concert in rock history, without any shadow of a doubt, must have been The Last Waltz by The Band on 25 November 1976. Thankfully, it was recorded live and has become one of the absolute classics. That’s where I came across Ophelia first. In his song, Robbie Robertson was asking –

Boards on the window
Mail by the door
What would anybody leave so quickly for?
Ophelia
Where have you gone?

Ireland closed down today because of the ex-hurricane Ophelia. Schools will still be closed tomorrow. It was as if time had stood still. As if nothing else was happening in the world but this storm. It reaped havoc, hundreds of people are out of electricity, people even died – as predicted by the media yesterday. Today watching the TV, listening to the news was like watching reality TV. It was happening as we were watching it. Dublin’s streets were deserted, shops were closed, people stayed in their houses hardly anybody went to work, following the advice by the government not to go out.

This storm was an event.

On other days, the news are equally desperate, full of disaster: murders, bombs, threatened annihilation of the world by maverick politicians, police corruption, health system failures, housing crisis, and the likes. But Ophelia was special. One big bad thing and nothing else. For an entire day. Today, Kim Yong-un could have launched the entire missile reservoir and we wouldn’t have heard anything about it. Today was about Ophelia and nothing else.

But soon it will all be forgotten and the attention will  shift to the next disaster. Ophelia, where have you gone?

Life can’t be about Ophelias. About headline disasters. It has to be about the every day struggle that so many of us go through, it has to be the courage of so many people making the best of their lives even when they feel they can’t take much more, it has to be about the generosity of heart of people who reach out and offer a helping hand, every day.

I’m saying this, because I am getting through a tough time as so many others are. And I’m saying this because I would never be able to survive these times without that helping hand.

Pádraig was delighted to meet his new carers (from Germany) today; to experience the storm of the century; to use his standing frame; to experience new food and new textures; to live. Pat is also getting better, though she is still very sore.

Tomorrow, we’ll ask ourselves: Ophelia, where have you gone? While continuing with our boring, every day struggle, feeling the pain, having fun, feeling despair, laughing about the twist and turns of our lives, being happy and fortunate to be in the company of Dreamboaters.

The weekend was challenging, mentally and physically, with as good as no help available via all those hours allocated to Pádraig through his home care package. Although we had been told that Pat was entitled to some help that did not materialise either.

On the positive side, Pádraig’s new carer arrived from Germany this evening and will start tomorrow.

Just heard that the country will come more or less to a stand still tomorrow because of storm Ophelia. First time ever such a serious storm is going to hit Ireland.

Not sure whether it is the ‘Saturday Night Fever‘. Whatever it is, it keeps me awake. I can’t sleep. When what is going on stops, it takes me time to slow down and rest.

Pat keeps getting better. So is Pádraig. Each at their own pace. The days have never been as full.

I was reading a story to Pádraig tonight that ended with one of my favourite sayings: the ark was built by amateurs, the Titanic by professionals. Meaning that those who succeed are often those who don’t know what they’re up against but know what they have to do.

Isn’t that comforting?

Everybody has their favourite time of the day. Donovan liked the “morning when we rise” the best. Gerry Rafferty was a night owl but got “a little lonely when the sun gets low“. We were over the moon with joy this afternoon when Pat came home from the hospital. – Which song would best reflect Pádraig’s and my pure joy, reflect the afternoon that was in it…?

It has been one of these days packed with stuff and not enough time to do half of the things that should have been done. Well, there’s always tomorrow:) It’s good to stay busy.

There have been so many friends helping out over the past days, so many more offering help that it I don’t know how to thank them. Not only would it have been impossible to manage without that help, knowing that it was available, that people have been making time to get us through these difficult days, just knowing that it was there gave me confidence and strength.

It has been an amazing (you don’t like that word either, do you?) experience, really uplifting, just when I needed a bit of a lift!

I feel I should be panicking, worrying, freaking out, being mad, going crazy, having a nervous breakdown, doubting in the meaning of life, wondering why us. The Sheriff in Brewster told me he knew a father in my situation who had become an alcoholic. The doctor in charge of disability in Hamburg told me that most couples looking after their child at home would get a divorce.

The truth is that I have never felt as calm and confident and strong and purposeful in my life.

It’s the dreamboater thing: knowing that you can achieve the impossible; being supported by incredible friends who will never let you go; defying misleading but well established truths; believing in justice; being convinced that you can be the change.

Pádraig is getting better. He is surrounded by friends, old and new. There is a buzz here in the house that I wouldn’t believe could exist if I did not experience it every day. It’s challenging for him, exciting, funny, and loving. It’s the energy he shares and which keeps him not just going but growing. Pat is getting better too and will hopefully be out of hospital by the end of the week.

Someone told me today that Dublin mothers, sisters, and grandmothers add a pinch of bread soda to the water in which they cook cabbage. I asked her why, what does the bread soda do to the taste or texture of the cabbage? She looked at me and said: that’s what women in Dublin do when they cook cabbage. That’s just the way it is. They’ve always done it that way.

There is this idea that some ‘truths’ are established so firmly that you’d never question them.

I was thinking: I’ll take the bread soda out of the cabbage and start questioning those well-established ways of doing things. Beginning with the obvious.

The number of years we’ve been married. And the first time we’re not going out. But we’re celebrating. More than ever.

Today is the 50th anniversary of the killing of Che Guevara. Just recently, his image had to be removed from an Aer Lingus advertising campaign in which they had used the pictures of famous people of Irish descent to advertise their new route to Miami. Apparently, this was offensive to the families of people who were killed by Che Guevara and the rebels who, in 1959, started to fight the Cuban regime that had converted Cuba into a casino and playground for the US Mafia. This morning, RTÉ interviewed a Cuban-American radio presenter who is asking the Irish government to withdraw the one euro stamp with the famous image of Che, painted by an Irishman, that the Post Office just issued to commemorate his death.

The interviewer asked the American lady what she thought about the 20 dollar note showing an image of president Jackson who is not universally admired for his treatment of native americans. The lady said that Jackson had been an elected president of the USA and that we and civilisation had moved on from the time that Jackson was president.

Pádraig went into hospital today, this time not to be treated but to visit. A reversal of roles in a way. We heard how vital it is to get up, to move, to breathe deeply, to cough. That lying in bed without doing any of these things, even when you are weak, is really bad for you.

I had this strange feeling today that things are looking up – strange, because things, at the moment, seem to be really difficult and complicated. But I thought that we are probably (almost:) over the most difficult hurdles towards some kind of ‘normality’, whatever that might be.

I had to think of what that Germany lady told me on the phone: that they were not worn out, that they were not hopelessly lost and beaten, but that they got stronger as they were profoundly challenged over the past 10 years since the accident of their daughter.

A bit like Che Guevara Lynch who started as a doctor, exploring Latin America on a motorbike, and ended up as probably the most iconic revolutionary of the 20th century. He grew and became stronger as he took on injustice, exploitation, and poverty. And he never stopped. Until he was assassinated by US-backed Bolivian forces at the age of 39, on this day 50 years ago. Hasta Siempre.

I didn’t really know what it meant ‘when the sky falls’. And I didn’t know how tall you can stand together when it does. Just a few hours before Pádraig’s accident I had given a presentation in the South China Sea using Adele’s song Skyfall as the intro. Using this fabulous song, I wanted to make my talk more attractive, and a little bit more dramatic and motivational. It was a real success. Although, looking back, it was pathetic.

However, when I listened to the song again today, I thought “this is it”. When the sky falls, when the most horrible things happen, this is what we have to do: “stand tall”, “stand together”.

A few days ago, a mother who’s daughter had suffered a severe acquired brain injury ten years ago told me that, against what some might have expected, she and her family grew stronger over the years. And while I was listening to her I knew that they were standing tall.

Pádraig, too, is standing tall again. Each day, when he gets out of bed, he and I stand together, he quite a bit taller than myself. It is one of the highlights of each day for me that he manages, with a little bit of help, to lift up his head and hold it, by himself, for a few seconds while standing. And he is adding time to those few seconds every day.

Pat is recovering from her procedure and will hopefully be back home towards the end of the week.

It’s amazing how, when times get tough, humans outgrow themselves, they can stand really tall and find strengths they never knew they had. And become Dreamboaters:)