#355: When someone goes on a trip

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The first time I walked in Toronto, My Canadian family advised me not to wear anything valuable. Back then I still had a camera, that hung around my neck, I was clutching my bag so tightly, as if my life was in it.

Today parts of our lives are contained in a small square thing. While some people constantly have their cell phones in their hand, Many people have it hanging around their neck and others have it buried in their pockets. Mine was in my bag when I was robbed on the bus to San Pietro.

Yes, I was robbed with a scuffle, steadfast defense – I jumped on the person's heels – and pushing and no, I wasn't hurt, there was no weapon or other further dramatic events. It became me “just” my cell phone was snatched away and yet this feeling of being robbed is intense and extremely unpleasant. It doesn't just affect the physical device, which represents a monetary value, but also the time, which I was robbed of, that I wanted to spend in a city, which I love very much. Time for beautiful memories and time for myself.

I became in a way my thoughts, Memories and parts of my life robbed. There are photos on my phone, Memos and ideas, that are important to me, and I'm not talking about sensitive bank data yet, ID cards and passwords. I deleted them relatively quickly, can be changed and blocked, but the constant repetition of the incident is like a recurring experience. In the first few days I was on every bus, no matter if I was inside, or looked in from the outside, looking for the man's face.

Over the next few days I very consciously tried the city, which I already have more than 12 Have traveled once, to enjoy. The employees at Hotel CitizenM were great support and took their time every day, to chat with me. A Queen Unseen exhibition, Pasta, I didn't miss out on an aperitif at my bakery on Campo and Trastevere at night.

And next time I'll probably stick to my cell phone instead, than my wallet, so priorities change.

#354: Does it spark joy? Owning (un)necessary things

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I have the item in Standard today ( https://www.derstandard.at/story/2000132723089/besitzen-wir-wirklich-10-000-dinge) read and not only, that the article immediately got me evaluating and thinking, what possession means or what number probably a “right one” would – especially in times of sustainability compared to obsolescence – a few of the comments made me smile.

One of these was about the estate and staying in the attic of memories. Each piece may or may not have a story and may just be something that man or woman shakes their head at.

2020 I first sorted and then cleared our parents' apartment with my brother and our father was a perfectionist, when it came to owning. To the “unhappiness” of descendants he has lived his perfection in things that are not valuable, for this are both my brother and I and the subsequent brood with multiple Maktias, AEGs etc tool utensils (grind, welding, drilling – multiple, …) fitted. There were also several other very useful things, for example,. 9 Bialettis in all possible sizes with 100th sealing rings, Radios (several world receivers), Battery chargers, batteries, labeling machines, Loading full printer cartridges etc etc. All labeled and packed in their own boxes.

Why he had so many printer cartridges and paper, then we found out. There was a box with lots of Bene folders, which were neatly labeled with documents, Bills and then there were rows without labels and when I opened the first folder back then, I closed it again and tried to get an overview, how many such folders it was probably here. Several folders full of erotic pictures – almost naked women, who always wanted to show off their sexual characteristics in the foreground – but nothing naughty. Because you are not alone in this experience “enjoy” wanted, I've been waiting for my brother, so that he too could have this aha experience (of course without warning). Each image was neatly printed out and placed in a high-quality, thick transparent sleeve. Our claim to separate sustainably and act ecologically was actually put to the test here for the first time.

But there was also “nutzvolle” things (depending on your point of view), such as bandages and several diabetes machines with repackaged needles , that were a hit at a men's hostel. My father also had several bottles of 750 ml Parfum Brut Brut Black, because he remembered during his hospital days, that back then (60is / 70s) the perfume very much “inn” was and it was time, after my mother died, to make yourself attractive to women. My subtle hint back then, that a full set of teeth (during his stay one lost his lower denture) might make more sense, he smashed. He mean, that I was already superficial and it was about the inner values.

My father had so many things, especially in all possible variations and mostly repackaged and not used. I thought so too at the time, I don't want to do that to my kids – well I don't have any porn pictures anyway – but in the flashback we had the chance to confront our father with him and his way of owning and caring for things (I'll have a shoe shine kit for the rest of my life). At least it helped me in retrospect, but joy never saved it.

#353: Note to me

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I've been lately, planned unintentionally, had several inpatient hospital stays behind me. On the one hand, not funny in times like these, where nobody can visit you, on the other hand wonderful, that nobody interrupts you, when you just sleep, read or watch TV.

But I digress. Because right after the first time, when I was waiting in the ward area to get my bed, I suddenly became aware of it, what being old and / or sick meant. Even if there were many stroke patients or patients with dementia and secondary diseases on this ward, and each and everyone had to deal with their own fate, so it was sobering to see this helplessness and neediness.

A B E R – even if to the chagrin of the carers – there were quite a few, who resisted their situation and not the people on the ground. To try to get up, even if it is counterproductive. To move around, although restricted by wheelchair and patients around you. To eat with a fork, even if the spoon is wrong and offered by the sister. Mir ist bewußt, that it doesn't make nursing and nursing any easier, but on the other hand it is also an act of self-determination.

And so I made a mental list, while I sat there and watched.

Pyjamas. Always take your own pajamas with you and preferably several at once.
Loungewear. Or simply cozy sweatpants. When I expect or hope for pretty nurses or doctors, then also a bit stylish or funny. Funny is always possible, so before Christmas I packed my Last Christmas Sweater and my Grinch T-Shirt and it put a smile on the face of the person opposite.
underwear. SUFFICIENT, I don't even have to or shouldn't have to mention that, aber wer weiß, if I will still know that someday.
Slacking. Slap. Flip Flops. Sneaker. The way to the toilet, For the examinations or the turning around in the hospital should be done with suitable material.
Beauty. You don't have to stink, still look nice. And if it makes me happy, then I put a mask on or smear something on my face. So taking care of yourself is also a way of loving yourself and doing something good for yourself, even if things are not going well right now.
Lesematerial. Trash and gossip magazines are also included, it vents my brain so nicely.
Others. Starting with headphones, around the world to fade out all around up to the tea bag (notice lemon balm is not mine) everything is allowed.

Find the middle

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I recently went to a therapeutic masseuse, which my dear friend S.. was heavily recommended. As it should be for good friends, she kicked my butt hard, that I finally do something. I was hit by a pedestrian car in mid-August.

Even if I digress for a moment, so it's impressive, what a brain and instincts can do. I'm with my Jr. gone across a street (unregulated crossing) and saw a car in the distance with my eye, but far enough away, to get across the street safely. When we were a few steps on the road, I noticed, that the car wasn't really slowing down, but rather constant – probably because the traffic light at the other intersection was green (just a hypothesis or empirical value) – and I raised my right hand to make us more visible. In the next moment I only knew, that I thought to myself, that is no longer possible. And then I must have shown everything at once. Push child aside, because it went exactly on the side the car came from, turn on my side, so that I don't get hit from the front. Felt the car on the left hip, rolled me over on the right side and what was the worst for me, was that I also came up with my head and lay there and was scared, that the car would keep moving.

Of course, the car accident left its mark, not just physically. Concussion does not always make everyday life easy either. It's frustrating, when the simplest words cannot come to mind. Engine Hood! I had to explain to my radiologist at the beginning, where my hip hit. He mean, I shouldn't stress myself, that will be again. The words probably got through to me, But it's still so incredibly so easy to find words, not having a word picture of them.

And then by chance you stand in front of such a hood (I parked on the sidewalk and the car), which has the same trademark emblazoned in front, which was the same color, yelled at me and the only one, what i could do, was to stop. And it is like that, as it is in stories. You hold your breath and it seems, like the world stops and everything around you is focused only on this thing in front of me. And that moment passed just as quickly. I took a deep breath and faced the monster of fear. I became aware, that both I and especially my son were lucky. Everything could have turned out very differently. What are a few words that are missing.

My therapist got it right to the point, it brings me back to the center. Even if she meant my hips first. She is absolutely right. I want to find my center again and that's not that easy, because this center is only vague. It is neither a fixed place nor has an absolute point in my very own system. But at least my hips are aligned. Only my head doesn't always want to be like this, as she or I want, namely to find its centering.

#352: Rosen erblühen in Malaga

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Ole

I've been planning to say goodbye to my father in writing for a long time, and when I recently heard this song on the radio, I took Cindy and Bert to give space to my memories.

At all it seems, that my subconscious all’ dig out these ancient texts, especially if it seems so, as if I was being followed by German hits from the 60s and 70s. It's easy psychologically, my brain is selective and uses the possibilities – in the car, I keep switching to Radio Burgenland (!) and Lower Austria – which are offered to him.

Memories of Heidelberg are memories of you and that beautiful time, I dream all the time. My father was passionate, when it came to music. On Sunday he loved listening to marching music on the radio and when I'm out and about in town today and it just happens to be, that a marching band is also playing, I stop and listen.

My father made it possible for me to get to know a wide range of music, which starts at Glen Miller and never ends. I've been thinking now, where I wanted to put an end, should or could, but there is none. In the spirit I go all’ through the hundreds of single records, that I got from him and there, too, everything is wildly mixed up.

He always talked, that I was only active in music in the nursery and that La Paloma Blanca was one of my favorite songs. I also danced long before I took a step.

Fathers should be heroes and in this case my father was my MC hero.

That he wasn't a hero everywhere, is simply often due to life and above all outside of ours (and I mean my brother's or mine) Range and possibilities. You don't love less because of that. And the sadness manifests itself in the trifles of memories of my papa. And it's these memories that I like to hold onto. Lovely, funny and absurd memories, that give you an inner smile.

Such an absurd memory is now also in my living room. I couldn't bring myself to give away the Westminster table clock. My grandmother already had a watch like this in her apartment and my father bought one too. Of course, it can be wound manually with a wonderful bell mechanism, which we announce every quarter of an hour, that a quarter of an hour has passed. Opinions are divided in my household and the princess in particular is the loudest, when she informs me, how much she hates this watch. I am still indifferent and have already threatened my brother, that at some point this watch will simply stand with him and he will have to wind it. And if the watch is lucky, at some point it will be among the offspring, because it is exactly these memories, that stay and tell stories.

In eternal memory of my Master of Ceremonies.

#351: My home is my Castle

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I've heard of some, that they're using the time right now, to sort out, to clean, to make yourself comfortable. We are experiencing a new Biedermeier period on many levels.

Only recently did I take a critical look around my living room, on the one hand to fall into deep despair and on the other hand to feel sorry for myself, why I can't have a Pinterest / Instagram living room, where blankets are beautifully folded, to tidy on the crumble-free wing chair (unfortunately my living room armchair has no ears, but I would have loved to have one) to lie, color-coordinated, of course. The living room table is polished and free of any debris. Generally there is nothing unnecessary in the living room.

How to be easy on the word “bearing” can recognize, I'm miles away from this fact. school supplies, Glasses – I did not know, that you can leave so many glasses standing around from empty to half full – Pens and children are constantly romping around in these four walls. Things come with the children too, that they keep forgetting, lose and put away. Things are everything, was in 2 hands, 2 Arms and trouser pockets fit and that can be a lot.

So the princess has short hair, but the last few days I keep finding Spangerln, the one on the ground, between the armchairs, lying at the table or at the kasterl. Neither screaming, Add, Clearing away or good persuasion on my part has improved or changed the situation. The Bluetooth box has been in the living room for days or weeks, and at worst months, and has probably only changed its position due to the erosion of the dust accumulation.

Last Friday I got a koller and made room for the son in the study, so that he places all his school supplies in an orderly and tidy manner. And you see and marvel, have Monday today “just” the biology books found their way into the living room, Next 2 Rulers and a sharpener.

My plan for this week is, that I activate the loudspeaker and make a disco in the front yard, sing along with a glass in your hand. I also prescribe selective viewing and ignore Pinterest and Instagram. At least until the next koller.

#350: Collateral damage

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I gave it a lot of thought, what to do with my experience from a week ago. But I didn't come up with a solution that was suitable for me, therefore writing is probably the means of choice.

My father has cancer. The lungs have a few tumors and since these are currently not operable and its overall constitution is rather poor, chemotherapy is also not possible. That means he is being irradiated. This Tuesday was his last radiation for the time being, um in 3 Months using a control CT, how successful or not necessary the radiation was. Actually last week would have been the last appointment on Friday and also the conversation with the doctor, where my brother and I wanted to be. But as so often, everything comes differently and especially than you think.

I called my father on the phone a week ago on Tuesday, to hear, like it was with radiation today, if he needs anything, whether transport and collection works well. He sounded a little exhausted, and told me, that the doctor has determined, that he has water in his lungs and whether he has breathing problems. As always, he downplayed his situation and mentioned it in a subordinate clause, that he had already placed a cushion on the kitchen table, because he can't breathe properly when lying down. After I said on it, that he should call me at any time of the day or night, was clear to him, that he could solve that alone.

That was not the case and just before 9 In the evening I got a call for help with the sentence: “I do not get air!” So I called the rescue and passed on all the information, like cancer patient, Radiation, water in the lungs, urgently to the hospital in case of breathlessness, urgent!, bad condition, Lungs- and heart sick and of course address. I quickly changed my clothes – I don't think I wanted to run out in my bathrobe – ran to the car and drove like a lowered one … towards my father. I sprinted to him and drove to the 7th floor and was more than astonished, that despite good 5 Minutes of loss was there earlier. Overall, we waited for other good ones 5 Minutes when the intercom finally rang. My father swayed dangerously around the chair and I tried to calm him down.

When the medic came to meet me, I asked them, where the transportation would be, which I explained on the phone, what the situation would be. In response I got, that you have to take a look at it! Seriously?

After the respiratory rate is estimated at – for the first time it didn't show anything – 60 % lag (or below), you got a little nervous. I do not know, how many times I mentioned at that moment, that he had to go to the hospital, because he had water in his lungs and couldn't breathe. The medic could hear the water in the lungs and the findings, that I gave him, probably showed the seriousness of the situation. So they called the porter and the emergency doctor – because only that can say, that a patient heard admitted. In the meantime are already 20 Minutes passed. Quality 15 Minutes later the emergency doctor is there and before I tell her everything I felt 100 times, she stops at the door, um zu fragen, whether the patient has a fever – no he did `nt – and then looks at me and asks, whether we had a case of Covid and whether I was certain and at all and beyond. Which I can understand to a certain extent, but subjectively emotionally difficult for me, when my father has been over 30 Minutes with the ventilator can only breathe and he hurts in pain.

Since I'm probably believable, then the supply went very quickly for the first time, Venous access and syringe over syringe, ventilation only works via the device and I answer questions after questions. Just my hint, that it's arguably the smartest and most efficient (!) would be to bring my father to SMZ Ost, arrives at the people present, but not in the control center. You have a surveillance bed in KH Nord. Since there are no surveillance beds in the SMZ Ost. I will be a little uncomfortable and explain to them, that's not true, since my father was next to last year 2 Intensive care stays in the SMZ Ost were monitored. I ask please to call the doctor, because it doesn't make sense, if he should do the radiation in the SMZ Ost, why should you take him from A to B every day?, especially if the complete medical history is on site. She agrees with me and starts talking on the phone and convinces a doctor on site to take in my father.

My father is lucky, because he has my brother and me, that put pressure and are there, Ask questions and try to question. How big will the collateral damage be for the system, if we forget all of them, who are sick, become sick (and I don't mean the virus). This time we didn't even have the problem, that our father had to get her out of the station quickly, because there are enough free beds anyway (O-Ton).

I wonder, why the rescue wasn't faster than me?

I wonder, why, despite precise information on the patient's situation, no doctor, no transportation was provided?

I wonder, why a virus can have such a lasting impact on our system and all other serious illnesses (Diabetes, Krebs, Heart disease, Kidneys, ….) so be neglected.

I wonder, whether I want to know the answers honestly?

#349: der blade Zombie – fighting the zombie apocalypse

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I wonder, whether zombies can increase? Raj – aus Big Bang Theory – asked the question once, whether zombies can starve. There is always someone walking around looking for food, even the dog is the constant companion in hope, that something falls on the floor.

I like to cook and to my annoyance I now use the time, to bake. All’ the things, that I always wanted to do. Finally, even an Easter pinch and bread, White bread and sourdough bread. And I love bread. I think so, that it's because of my Balkans. There is bread for everything and everyone.

My mom sometimes made white bread and that's where I learned, that fresh warm bread is the best, what there is. Particularly, when you break the crust and it smells so wonderfully fresh of germ. But I also learned, being learned is not the right word for it, rather I have been admonished, that warm bread causes stomach ache.

Then as now, I ignore such predictions, Common wisdom or legends (think of chewing gum). Not even a piece of the Easter Pinze survived the next day, the bread was always gone almost the same day and it was wonderful. I don't think so, that I had a stomachache because of that. The hypotheses are broad and should be scientifically examined.

So it's time to continue baking. At Easter there is a caretaker Reindling, then a nougat-marzipan cake is on the plan, homemade pizzas (Majority because of that, because you have to try it too, what is good), Breads and whatever else comes my way.

So no, Zombies cannot starve, but I think so, that they get blad.

#348: The zombie apocalypse or the camp freak part 4

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or are we already part of it 5 and when will everyone finally die? I recently watched the Contagion film. By the way, the film is from the year 2011 and with great actresses like Kate Winslet, Marion Cotillard, Gwyneth Paltrow or actors like Matt Damon, Jude Law or Laurence Fishburne.

I deliberately watched the film, since I've seen a lot of zombie apocalypse films, as 28 Days later, then also weeks, oder The Rain … looked at, but nobody changes in contagion, you only die, quite unpretentious and without wanting to eat anyone up.

It shows with an incredible banality, how the spread of viruses can and could work. And it shows the ugly face of man – played great by Jude Law, but also the longing for something normal. I also feel this longing. And sometimes I'm scared, that we could forget, what normality means.

#347: Run Baby Run

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At least today I thought that and full of euphoria (more or less, rather less) my running shoes strapped, to the lack of movement to compensate. And I was really motivated, had in fact bad mood, whether the learning situation, the confinement and the high calories increase. Also, I assumed a completely distorted reality, I would absolutely fit through my dog and the daily movement, my condition reflects the red belt and I strengthened after a few kilometers back would.

The music in the ear and the sun on your face went there at least once through the courtyard and towards the first 100 m, I already felt the first spasm or muscle twinge in the legs. The acid in my legs again makes my running ambitions slower, but I at least had enough air to breathe and so I doggedly.

Of course, I've tried a look at my Running Watch Garmin to catch and my pulse was in a good area, had to be during the time from the perspective of only wrong. So I shook the clock – maybe a pointer in the digital world got stuck – and waited for the first kilometer. Shocked, whether the poor performance I try to increase the pace, to get it to slow again. While the legs are warm, but the welding seems to increase my breathing rate.

So I look for another song. Felt 5 Songs on I landed at the Black Eyed Peas and pump my lungs again to pump it on. And it works, I will at least 10 Second on the kilometers quickly. The motivated and I start to sing the songs.

*Memo to myself * Are you out of shape do not sing with while running.

I slow down again. At the old Danube I see many runners and I seem so sporty look, that some waving me (but perhaps they have only compassion and want to motivate me). I enjoy it, like the sun in my face appears and reach km 3 while Udo Jürgens “Again and again the sun rises”. I wonder just, if the song is to motivate me in times of COVID or running. I'm not sure.

I make a U-turn and walk again 2 Kilometers and notice, as I in 200 Meter rhythm always look at the clock again. It is not faster, which definitely is up to me. The fourth is definitely my fastest kilometers, again 10 seconds faster, What is immediately noticeable in Seitenstechen. sweet George Harrison with My Lord is here the right song and I wonder one hand, what got into me, to give this song in my Playlist and why does the shuffling exactly this song; what hidden message behind it.

After 5 Kilometers, I'm not and I definitely do not want at home continue, I will replace running with other exercises, quasi these last few kilometers to effectively use. So if someone someone Hopping, Knee in the Hoh’ leaping, saw going to the Po oppressive and with long strides and to its knees going heel, then I was.

At home I have then once selbstbemitleidet me. told a friend of my prowess, the fact that has seen as heroic. Thanks by the way for.