At a press conference in the afternoon, this day 25 years ago, Günter Schabowski announced that citizens of the GDR were allowed to travel freely. When asked by a journalist when this new arrangement was going to come into force, he hesitated for a second and then said that it was coming into force immediately.
People listening to this did not immediately understand what that meant. But it took just a few hours until thousands of people gathered at the bridge of the Bornholmer Straße and the border crossing to West Berlin. At 21h20 they let the first people pass, at 23h30 tens of thousands of people were passing without any further checks or passport control.
Lit helium balloons marking the trajectory of the Berlin wall tonight.
Bridges have also be important for Pádraig in the past 16 months. Many of them were missing or closed for a long time, but then opened unexpectedly for reasons still unknown to me. Those bridges were built, or re-built, for him by the hundreds of people around the world. When I look back over the past 16 months or so, he has moved on so much. Many, many things no-one thought were going to be possible, were made possible by people who did what they could do to help him – whether that was a prayer, a visit, a donation, a song or a poem, a swim, a run, a party, a coffee afternoon, a raffle, a table quiz, a text, tweet, call, or just a thought.
Pádraig is coughing quite a bit today. Maybe it’s just the change in temperature. We still went out with him onto the roof terrace, if only for 15 minutes or so. The weekend is very quiet here. There are no therapists and no doctors – unless in cases of emergency.
We’re going to continue to build bridges for Pádraig (and persons like him) with your help. And we won’t stop doing it, ever.
Today’s German Music Tip Karat – Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n They probably were the GDR’s best known rock group. What’s hot Bridges What’s cold Not trying The German word/phrase/verse of the day Ostdeutsch – The Deutsche Welle has a great article on the differences of the German language between east and west.
Pádraig did the usual routine today: getting up into the wheelchair, out onto the roof ‘garden’, a bit of food (yoghurt), the ‘ride on the bike’. He is getting less of this medicine that is supposed to lower the risk of seizures and I think he is slowly getting back to where he was before the doctors started trying out all the different types of medication.
Yesterday, the two people in charge to organise his care at home visited and we had a long conversation about how that will be organised. The preparations are getting into gear.
I let a shout out of me as did everyone there.
A friend sent me a link to a story reported in the journal.ie about a boy who suffered an acquired brain injury in an accident. He recovered, it seems, to a degree where he was able to tell his story in the Oireachtas Committee for Health. It reads like a Dejà vu of Pádraig’s experience with a distinct lack of resources, care, and therapy – to put it mildly. When is this going to blow into the faces of people who can affect change? How can a government be allowed to ignore its citizens when they most need to be supported by it? – One teenager’s ‘terrifying journey’ through Ireland’s health system after brain injury.
A few days ago, on 02 November 2014, Máirtín Ó Muilleoir, towards the end of his blog NewBelfast.com, wrote about Amhrán do Phádraig and especially the wonderful poem Marcus Mac Chongail wrote about Pádraig. For those (of us) who wouldn’t be able to follow the Irish, here is the translation provided by a fried which I first posted on 25 April 2013.
Pádraig
I have never met you
But for 9 months (ráithe= 3 months =quarter, trí ráithe=9 months I think!) now
The long silence that is coming from you
Is being filled by people who don’t stop talking about you
Kíla- playing music for you
As you were laid down in Beaumont Hospital
A chirp(?) or two from the toilet of a train (I can’t remember what exactly the story was with Aodhán except that is was very funny!)
From a friend without a ticket who is on his way to see you
Tonncheol (not sure what this means, something to do with music, maybe melody) and harmony (literally “together-music”) from the men’s choir
Singing a healing health to you from the Workman’s
Daily letters from your father’s limbo
Sieving the words, wanting to feel (understand) it all
Seosamh from the club just back from Hamburg
After seeing you
Describing it with his mouth (words)
But his eyes looking (seeking) for a different story
And the 50 brave Spartans
Who traveled in a line from coast to coast
And who swam deep into the spring sea
And your name was on everyone’s lips – your name
I went out to the finishing point of your swim
And I let a yell (shout) out of me as did everyone there
And I let out that shout again on paper for you,
That you, Pádraig, will return home safe and well.
Marcus Mac Chongail
RTÉ had a long report about Pádraig and the support he receives by his friends just two days ago, on 06 November. Rónán, another wonderful person, spent the best part of half an hour on his programme Rónán Beo@3 playing songs and poetry from the Amhrán do Phádraig, the album Pádraig’s friends put together during the summer, starting off with the Dreamboat – and then just went on and recorded a whole collection of wonderful music, songs, and poetry, for Pádraig.
Even if you (like myself;) are not that fluent in Irish, to put it mildly, you should still check it out. You’ll recognise some names and, of course, you’ll hear extracts from this wonderful album. People who say that Spanish is the Loving Tongue, like our friend Bob, must never have heard Irish.
The show kicks off with Conamara (00:00:23 to 00:03:50); it continues with the interview with Maitíu (00:10:00), with Dreamboat playing in the background from 00:15:50; Ní Bheidh Tú Riamh leat Fhéin (You will never be on your own) starts at 00:26:00; Marcus reads out his poem starting at 00:28:55.
I must tell you, and I don’t want to sound too pathetic here (I’m sure I often do), but I am crying my eyes out listening to Rónán’s programme, to the songs, the poem, to Maitíu’s account. Reading Marcus’ poem.
How lucky Pádraig is to have such friends. They are the stuff of pure legend!
And he, Pádraig, will return home safe and well. Go bhfille tú abhaile slán, a Phádraig.
The ideal present for all your friends and family!
Extracts from the Amhrán do Phádraig album, put together by 50 of Pádraig’s friends during the summer were played for the first time live on national radio on 06 November 2014. Listen to the beautiful interview with Maitíu O’Casaide of the Bonnymen by Rónán Beo@3 on RTÉ Raidió na Gaeltachta playing live on air extracts from the album, including Conamara, opening the programme, by Claire Hyland and Aisling Ní Laoire), the title track Dreamboat, in the background during the interview with Maitíu, by the Dreamboaters; the poem Pádraig (by Marcus Mac Conghail); and Ní Bheidh Tú Riamh leat Fhéin (You will never be on your own), by Lauren Ní Chasaide and Fiona Pain.
Keep winding the clock. For tomorrow will be another day.
The day that is just about to finish has been good. Pat, Maria, and I were in the room with Pádraig, chatting away, having our talks, annoying each other, being normal, with Pádraig in the middle of it all.
This morning, I rang my ‘Genossen’ and while they couldn’t give me a definite answer, they were hopeful that this coming Tuesday they will be able to tell me whether we got the bigger apartment we applied for. For the time being, things look good.
This afternoon, we had another visit from the man in charge of the carers’ service who will most likely help us to look after Pádraig on a 24 hour a day basis once Pádraig leaves the hospital, probably early in the coming year.
Things are moving ahead nicely. By this coming Tuesday, we should have a good idea whether we will get this other appartment
There has been an interesting story reported in thejournal.ie on how the ‘system’ in Ireland caters for people with Acquired Brain Injury. It’s yet another story of pure tragedy. Check it out!
Pádraig had a double physio session today with a qualified Vojta therapist. At the end, the therapist was at least as exhausted as Pádraig. I went up early to the hospital to help (as much as I could) but mostly to watch.
Not Pádraig and not the Schön-Klinik but a group of therapists during a Vojta workshop.
It is amazing how it works. He puts Pádraig on his chest with the right arm and the left foot up. He stimulates the foot and the arm begins to move. There is a point in his back that he presses and Pádraig begins to move his body.
I asked the therapist whether he himself had been at the receiving end of that kind of therapy and he said they practice on each other during tutoring sessions. He says that he jumps straight up into the air as those pressure points stimulates muscles you didn’t even knew that you had them. And that he gets ‘Muskelkater’ for days afterwards. But any back pain he might have had would completely disappear.
So Pádraig must be put under some pressure during those hour-long sessions. And what makes other people jump, gets him moving just about, just a little. But it gets him moving, makes him aware that he can move his arms, his legs, his body.
Later on today, we went out onto the roof terrace. It was ‘fresh’ but nice to be outside, breathe the air, listen to the trains in the distance (not too many today, the Deutsche Bahn is on strike, again;), hear dogs bark, feel the wind in your hair.
He had a nice vegetable-based (!) vanilla yoghurt. Then a good old friend rang, we did the ‘Mundpflege’, the nurse positioned him nicely on his side, his heart went down to under 60 (not seen often!) and his oxygen levels better than mine.
Physically, he is getting better and stronger.
He just needs to improve a bit on his communication. And more of this Vojta stuff!
Last night ended with a long review of how our event had worked out and a dinner with some friends and colleagues. By the time I got to the hostel and had sorted everything out, like where to get the 4h28am bus to Trafalgar Square, it was almost 1h30am. I was so worked up still that I couldn’t sleep. I also had the room by myself (had been sharing the two previous nights), so there was no need to be concerned about leaving the lights on and tinkering about.
From Trafalgar Square, it was down to the Thames and as Big Ben struck 5, I was crossing the Jubilee foot bridge with a fabulous view across the river towards Big Ben and the London Eye. Coffee on the go, bus to Gatwick, EasyJet to Hamburg, S1 to Friedrichsberg and back to Pádraig.
I had been missing him and while Pat had been telling me how he was doing, that he had been coughing quite a bit, but had been very much awake with not just his right eye, but also his left one, open for very long periods, I needed to get back. The last few days felt much longer, there was so much going on, so many people, new ideas, plans, plans, how can I still believe in plans?
Today, Pádraig was sneezing, not coughing. As it was also a cold and wet day, we didn’t go out onto the roof terrace but staid in the room. He was moving his feet quite a bit today, his tongue, and he kept trying to make more controlled sounds. There are concrete plans for tomorrow, I believe, to change the catheter for one less intrusive and to lower the doses of anti-seizure medication. All good.
Tried to listen to Amhrán do Phádraig again but couldn’t anymore. Maybe it was just a dream last night that I managed to listen to the songs without having bought them?
Wouldn’t this be the ideal, most beautiful and rewarding Christmas present ever?
Our conference finished tonight and the anticlimax I always feel at days like this is taking over. Back at the hostel, I am finally listening to the tracks posted on the Dreamboat website – and what a web site it is! How beautiful, brilliant and full of energy and life the songs and poem are!
I must have been listening to it now for a dozen times or more.
Days merge into each other, there is no beginning, there is no end, it’s a continuum, when I let go it’s hard to tell what is real, what is important, there is no sense of space or belonging, just the need to go on, to not let go. There is no way to bring together and make sense of these days, to see or to explain what binds them together.
There is our event in London with lots of really interested and enthusiastic, but also slightly cynical with the I’ve seen all this before and I already know what’s going to happen next attitude who are in several places all at the same time on their phones, emails, social networks, and in this physical space and reality that becomes less and less important.
Combine all this with a lack of sleep, the phone call to Hamburg and the daily news about how Pádraig is doing, the occasional laissez-faire-overworked-I-can’t-do-more-than-I’m-doing-and-how-would-I-know attitude of people looking after Pádraig, the desperate hope for a miracle, the deep sadness, the realisation that the world keeps spinning ’round, man keeps making plans, God keeps smiling, while you walk down right deep deep down into the centre of the earth on Euston’s Northern Line, one set of steps after another, until you hit rock bottom, literally, then you think you are living the song you’re listening to about feeling like a rolling stone, ready to make a deal.
Pádraig had a good day today and was visibly delighted to see Maria coming over for a week to visit him. His doctor is going to decrease the medication he’s getting to lower the probability of seizures tomorrow. Once he’s sure that Pádraig’s infection is completely gone he’ll also change the catheter again and see whether a less invasive method can be used, hopefully lowering the possibility of infections.
There must have been something in the 1960s in Germany that made people think that 17 was the magic age. I’ve no idea why 17… but there is no doubt that these songs today would border on committing a criminal offence. Here is a selection. The set is worth watching as are the songs worth listening – if for no other reason as for the memories long gone or, if not because of the memories, then just out of curiosity for the unbelievable music of those years…
This time it’s our annual conference which we are holding for the first time outside of Ireland, at University College London. It’s a bit of an adventure.
Internet connections are, again, pretty basic and it’s difficult to write this – not only because it is very late, but also because of the internet. It comes and goes. The event will go over two days and it’ll be off and back to Hamburg very early on Wednesday morning.
Briefly: Pádraig is doing fine. He was awake today for a long time, sitting outside, using the ‘bike’ – the works. I am sure he is, as we are, anxiously awaiting news from our ‘Genossen’ who will tell us this coming week whether we were the lucky ones to get one of the new apartments or not.
Tonight, I had a conversation with one of the people attending who told me about ‘the secret’, a book that apparently has changed many people’s lives for the better. I haven’t heard about it, but will check it out. Who knows…
Here are two German songs I came across over the past few days. In today’s world, they are almost racist. In the 50s and 60s that thought would never have crossed anybody’s mind.
Conny Froboess – Zwei kleine Italiener (1962) Großer Streit um ‘Zwei kleine Italiener’ wrote the German paper Das Handelsblatt in April – this song was the 1962 German entry to the Eurovision Song Contest and now GEMA, in an attempt to protect the rights of the singer and writer and publisher, was trying to get YouTube to remove it from their site. Luckily (for us) they failed. But it gave the song a whole new life and great publicity! It was the first time that the topic of “Gastarbeiter” was raised as a social issue.
How much would Pádraig have wished to be there at the Oireachtas! Can’t wait to hear the poems, songs, and music. We were looking down the Alster, the Elbe, the Wandse – but there was non sign yet of the Dreamboat. It must still be on its way!
Today, it was 19o celsius in Hamburg and a fine day on the roof terrace. We’re sure Pádraig moved his head to say ‘no’ to a question today, another first.
If we count them all up, those firsts, they must fill a mountain of hope, they must weigh so heavily that one day they will have to push open that door that is still closed most of the time.
I’ll be getting up tomorrow at 4h45 to catch an early flight to London for our annual conference (work). Still a lot of work to do to have everything ready for Monday and Tuesday. Back on Wednesday.
Sometimes. Sometimes the days are so full that at the end of the day I wonder, in all honesty, whether it was just one, or whether it was two days that just past. There are so many people, so many places, so many things, that I wonder, sometimes, how they all could have possibly fit in to the one 24 hours that just past.
Pádraig was almost back to where he had been before the infection. Heartbeat, temperature, oxygen, all back to (almost) normal level. It’s really reassuring that the nurse who is looking after him these days really knows him well and knows us. Life could be much easier if we could rely on everybody as well as we can rely on her.
We had two visits today. One from a residence who wanted to see whether Pádraig could be admitted. He could. The other visit was from a Carer who wanted to see whether he could take Pádraig on when he leaves the hospital in January and moves in with us. He could. Now we just have to see how things are going to work out.
Pat got back today. How brilliant is that!? It’s when she is away that I realise how much I want to tell her every day, ask her, get her opinion, share with her what is going on. There’ll be another few weeks and then the travel back and forth will slow down a little.
It’s Halloween night today. In Hamburg. Talk about globalisation. It’s also Friday night. Maria was on her way to the Oireachtas tonight when I talked to her. Life goes on. Although I still wonder how this is possible.
I remember when I heard of Pádraig’s accident, when the reality slowly sunk in, I thought of Auden’s poem “Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone…’ the world had just stopped turning, for me. For me. For the rest of the world not much had changed.
There are friends and family for whom the world hasn’t stopped. They deal with the reality of what has happened much better. And they take me along.
“So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.”
The reality is: there is no secure future. Never. The reality is: we all walk Into the Wild.
At a press conference in the afternoon, this day 25 years ago, Günter Schabowski announced that citizens of the GDR were allowed to travel freely. When asked by a journalist when this new arrangement was going to come into force, he hesitated for a second and then said that it was coming into force immediately.
People listening to this did not immediately understand what that meant. But it took just a few hours until thousands of people gathered at the bridge of the Bornholmer Straße and the border crossing to West Berlin. At 21h20 they let the first people pass, at 23h30 tens of thousands of people were passing without any further checks or passport control.
Hospi-Tales 