A Sunday Like Before – or Almost
- Stefan
- Oct 5
- 3 min read
Today was the first time we tried to have a Sunday that felt a little bit normal again. Just leaving the house, seeing something new, breathing fresh air, being around people. It’s been almost three months since we traveled to Chicago, and almost half a year since the accident. In that time, our lives have turned completely upside down. Everything that once felt normal was suddenly gone. Even the small things – going out as a family, laughing together, leaving the house without a plan. For so long, Oliver’s condition was too fragile, too uncertain. But today, we decided to take a step toward normal life again. The first time out together among people.
Of course, it’s not as easy as it used to be. Back then, we just got ourselves and three healthy kids ready. Now it takes four adults just to get Oliver safely into the car. I’m the one who lifts him from his wheelchair into his special car seat. Someone else holds his hands and his breathing connection at his neck. At the same time, the wheelchair has to be moved away and our “tower” with all the equipment rolls alongside him. We can still optimize many things, maybe even adapt the car one day. Naturally, we don’t do this kind of trip alone – two nurses accompany us. Everything is new, but the load is shared.
Our destination was an open-air shopping center. Just to spend some time together. But Oliver had a clear mission: to find and greet as many dogs as possible. That’s his absolute highlight. And for us, it’s important that he learns that not every outing means hospitals or doctors. For the past six months, every transport was medical. Today, we wanted to show him that life still has so much more to offer – to rebuild trust, to show him the world again.
Interestingly, it was the same place we visited ten days before the accident. Back then, it was for Sebastian’s doctor appointments. In Germany, we had spent more than half a year searching for why he couldn’t breathe properly while sleeping. He was always tired in kindergarten, once even fell asleep there. There were suspicions about polyps, and even his heart was examined. But follow-up appointments in Germany were impossible to get. The earliest university clinic date would have been in February 2026 – even though I had called in February 2025. Here in Mexico, things moved quickly – of course, you pay for it yourself. Sebastian had an airway infection that was treated for four months with medication. Today he’s healthy and sleeps through the night. And even though Oliver is in a very different situation now – he’s here. It’s easy to forget how critical everything once was. But we’ll share more about that another time.
Today at the mall, we just strolled around. The twins rode dinosaurs with their cousin, and Oliver followed with his wheelchair car, racing them and laughing. Everyone got an ice cream. Oliver chose his favorite – lemon. I often wonder how I would feel in his place. I only know that Oliver keeps seeing the good in everything, and somehow makes the world around him brighter, even in his limits.
Of course, I noticed how people look. When we walk with Oliver and his tower, there are stares – first surprised, then confused. Since I wasn’t always the one pushing his wheelchair, I could observe it from a distance. It hurts, but I understand. I had never seen a child like Oliver either – two years old, paralyzed, with a tracheostomy. Maybe because there are few like him. Maybe because families like ours rarely leave the house. I don’t know. I only know it felt good. It was the first time in half a year that we did something like this again. Just being out. Being a family. Different, yes – but still together.
I truly believe we’ve become better people. We’ve learned to appreciate things differently. We’ve seen how kind and strong humanity can be. In our darkest moments, we weren’t alone. We’re grateful to have come this far. And it will go on.
After two and a half hours, we came back home. Oliver watched a little TV, then had his evening bath in bed around seven.
A Sunday that felt a little like before – but maybe even more precious.
Thoughts to End the Day
Sometimes healing doesn’t begin in hospitals, but outside – between laughter, sunlight, and a simple “hello” to a dog.
Today wasn’t a perfect day, but it was a real one. One that showed us that even from broken days, new light can grow.
Maybe that’s what hope really means – not waiting for things to be like before,
but finding beauty in the now – right in the middle of the chaos, right in the middle of our new life.
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