This is what will happen to Oliver and the stem cells in 2026.

Hope, despair, and the decision not to stop.

Everyone knows Oliver's story

Everyone knows Oliver's story by now.

After the car accident, he was allowed to leave the hospital in Mexico after five weeks, after 39 days. On paper, that sounded like a step forward. In reality, it was the beginning of a new reality.

We didn't come home. We arrived at a converted room at my in-laws' house in Mexico. A room that suddenly had to be everything at once: bedroom, care room, intensive care unit. We cared for Oliver ourselves. Around the clock. We were always there. Always.

After just one week we knew: This is no life. Not for him. Not for us.

When hope disappears

We couldn't imagine that Oliver was just lying in bed all the time. His whole life. That that was all there was to it. And right here begins something you can only understand if you've experienced it yourself.

You're despairing.

You scream.

I screamed.

Laura screamed.

We banged on walls. We cried. Not quietly. Not in a controlled way. But so hard that we couldn't breathe. The tears flowed like waterfalls. We needed comforting. And we couldn't be comforted. There were no words that would have helped. No hug that would have been enough.

We now know what it feels like to be parents without hope.

The search for every straw

And then something happens that probably all parents in this situation experience. You start searching. Not systematically. Not rationally. But desperately. You search for things you didn't even know existed. For stories. For experiences. For anything that might allow for a different outcome.

That's how we came across stem cell therapy.

Not because we suddenly believed in miracles. But because we believed in possibilities. And because we saw that Oliver was fighting. That his body was showing things that, according to the textbooks, shouldn't have happened.

Why therapy alone is not enough for us

Therapy is important. Very important.

It holds. It stabilizes. It trains. It helps to get the most out of what's there.

But therapy doesn't bring back what has been lost.

It does not form new neural connections.

It does not repair spinal cords.

And once you've experienced what it's like to watch your child suddenly become unable to move and need a machine to breathe, then "keeping them stable" is no longer enough.

The story of Chris Barr and why it gives us hope

In this search we came across the story of Chris Barr.

An adult man and a surfing accident. He lay motionless in the water. He was dead. He had to be resuscitated. Eight broken cervical vertebrae. Paralyzed from the waist down.

He too was told that nothing more could be done. He even said to his wife, "Pull the plug."

Chris Barr nevertheless chose a path many considered unrealistic: stem cell therapy, supervised by Dr. Mohamad Bydon. No guarantees. No promises. But research. Experience. And time.

Today Chris can stand and walk again. Not perfectly. Not without limitations. But with abilities that no one thought he was capable of anymore.

This video shows part of his story and deeply moved us:

Chris is no miracle. But he is proof that things can change. And that's exactly what triggered something in us.

Children are not small adults

Of course, not every story is the same. An adult is not a child. But that is precisely where a crucial difference lies.

Children experience progress differently than adults.

An adult often thinks:

I used to be able to do that. Now I can't anymore.

A child thinks differently. A child thinks:

Look, now I can do a little more.

Why we choose stem cells

Before we explain why we are going to Chicago and why we are choosing this path, one thing is important to us: to explain what stem cell therapy actually means and why it makes sense for Oliver.

Stem cells are special because they haven't yet committed to a specific function. While most cells in the body are clearly defined, stem cells are flexible. They can divide, release signaling molecules, and initiate processes that support healing and repair. Stem cell therapy isn't about simply replacing damaged nerve cells. It's about altering the environment within the injured spinal cord in such a way that healing becomes possible again.

Dr. Mohamad Bydon's research utilizes so-called mesenchymal stem cells.

The injections are administered intrathecally, meaning into the cerebrospinal fluid surrounding the spinal cord and brain. There, the stem cells don't act like a drug with an immediate effect, but rather as a biological stimulus. They reduce inflammation, improve the environment within the nervous system, and can support processes in which nerve pathways reorganize or existing connections are strengthened. In essence, they give the body the ability to become active again on its own.

It's important for us to be clear: stem cell therapy is neither a miracle nor a guarantee. It's research. In previous studies, safety was the primary focus. The data so far shows that the therapy is well-tolerated and no serious side effects have been observed. Often, the most negative finding is that no measurable change is observed. No deterioration due to the therapy itself has been observed.

This approach is particularly interesting for children. Children possess remarkable neuroplasticity. Their nervous system is significantly more adaptable and capable of learning than that of adults. While adults often focus on what they have lost, children experience progress as something new. A little thumb that moves. A ball that can be grasped with help. Small steps that represent enormous successes for a child. Stem cell therapy does not replace physiotherapy or occupational therapy; it complements them. It begins where training alone reaches its limits.

That's why we're taking this path.

Not because we are safe.

Not because there is a guarantee.

But because there is a real possibility. A chance to give the body conditions under which healing becomes possible. A chance to regain more than just stability.

We know what it feels like to be parents without hope. And that's precisely why we don't want to be able to say later that we didn't even consider this option.

Looking ahead

Next year we will travel to Chicago twice. Once in April or early May, and a second time in the fall. There, Oliver will be part of a specialized stem cell therapy program.

This is not an easy path. But it is a path with hope.

And that's precisely why we're taking this path. That's why we're going to Chicago. That's why we're returning to Dr. Bydon. And that's why we're grateful to have found him this way. It's a great honor for us that Oliver's story can continue at this point, with a doctor who not only has experience but also the courage to break new ground.

We don't take this path lightly. We take it because we know what hope means. If you know there's no hope left, you eventually lose your strength. Hope is what sustains us. It's what gets you out of bed in the morning. What keeps you going when everything inside you screams that you can't go on.

And we want to pass on this hope.

Perhaps one day Oliver will make progress not only for himself. Perhaps his story will also give courage to other parents. Parents who lie awake at night, desperately searching the internet and wondering if there's still a way out there. If there's still a path that doesn't just mean stagnation.

If they then stumble across Oliver and read that there are possibilities, that research continues, that medicine is evolving, then all of that would have a meaning that transcends us.

Oliver will be the first child in the world to receive this stem cell therapy. And yes, we are proud of that. Out of gratitude. Proud that he survived. Proud that he is receiving help. Proud that he is being given a chance, and that gives us new hope.

Merry Christmas to everyone. Oliver's journey continues. Thank you for joining us.