I take care of myself
On Tuesday, the next day, I remembered what the nurse and Doris had advised me to do. So in the morning, I practiced some Zapchen exercises, including swinging my arms vigorously back and forth. Then I sat comfortably in a chair, exhaled deeply, and relaxed as much as possible. I also made myself as aware as possible of the contact between my seat and the floor. Julie calls this „resting down.“ Feeling connected to the earth gives us security and calms us.
Gradually, I rocked my upper body slightly to the right and left. With increasingly smaller movements, I searched for the area where my body felt most comfortable, where energy flowed most easily. Julie calls this „alignment,“ which means to align oneself. She told us several times about a lama who wandered through Tibet several centuries ago and taught this to people.
One day, one of his students said to him, „Look at me, revered lama! My arms and legs are crippled. How can I come into alignment with these limbs?“
The lama advised him, „Build a frame in which you can hang your body so that you can sit as comfortably as possible!“
The man bowed gratefully, followed the advice, meditated in the frame for twelve years, and thereby attained enlightenment.
I don’t know if this actually happened. But I like this story and enjoy telling it to my students. It illustrates an important principle in Zapchen: using resources skillfully to practice in a pleasant way. Julie repeatedly encouraged us to pay attention to our sense of well-being.
And „alignment“ is a wonderful introduction to meditation. Some of my participants remain seated quietly for 20 minutes afterwards, and so do I.
Zapchen also helped me that morning to focus on my breathing for at least a few minutes, even though I kept seeing Rudi in my mind’s eye. I had been trying to meditate for thirty-five years. With modest success. As soon as I sat still, I could make shopping lists, even plan my next novel, anything but meditate.
At the end of the morning ritual, I looked at the photos of my Buddhist teachers and recited a few mantras.
Just like the day before, I took the newspaper out of the mailbox only to throw it in the recycling bin. But once again, an article on the front page caught my eye: „Schumacher awakens from coma.“ It couldn’t be a coincidence! It was as if someone was calling out to me: „If the Formula One driver can do it, then Rudi will wake up soon too.“ Schumacher had been wearing a helmet when he had his skiing accident, but he had been going faster than Rudi. His traumatic brain injury seemed more severe to me. After five months in an induced coma, he was now beginning a very long period of rehabilitation.
Very long, oh dear! How long would it take for Rudi?
The family did not want to disclose any further information. I could understand that. I wanted to avoid telling the neighbors about the accident. The idea of being asked about Rudi’s condition every time I walked down the street seemed like running the gauntlet to me.
In the evening, I drove back to Rudi. To avoid the oppressive atmosphere in the waiting room, I took a long walk through the park and didn’t go to the hospital until shortly after visiting hours began. Unfortunately, the door to the intensive care unit was still closed. This time, almost all the chairs in the waiting area were occupied.
„Germany played yesterday,“ said an elderly gentleman. „No one was here.“
„I was here, and so were a few others,“ I objected.
He didn’t even look at me.
„What business is it of yours?“ barked the elderly woman with the hearing aid at the man.
If only I had kept my mouth shut!
Fortunately, at that moment the door opened and everyone rushed to their relatives.
So that I wouldn’t have to stand there for an hour, I took a chair from the waiting room into Rudi’s room. Seeing him lying there motionless, with all the tubes, broke my heart. What could I do for him? I had a lump in my stomach. I was so tense that I was no help to him. Then I remembered a practice that one of Julie’s students had recommended as end-of-life care. I was sure that Rudi would live on, but this allowed me to connect with him in this situation. So I placed a hand on his chest and breathed in and out with him. I felt his warmth, his vitality, and it did me good.
But did it help him? I looked at his face. It seemed smooth, calm—indifferent. Was he aware of my presence? Was there anything I could do for him at all? I hoped so much—and doubted. Then I remembered what Doris had said: „Take care of yourself!“ The nurse yesterday had expressed something similar.
I can only help him if I feel good, I thought. And this feels good.
When the wife of Rudi’s bed neighbor entered the hospital room a quarter of an hour after visiting hours began, I took Rudi’s hand in mine and stopped the breathing exercise.
„I was worried about you,“ I said.
She smiled for the first time. „I was caught speeding.“
„Take care of yourself! Your husband needs you!“ No sooner had I said this than I realized how banal it sounded.
„I will.“ Her nod seemed grateful.
At that moment, I realized that we shared the same fate; I could hardly say anything wrong. Encouraged by this realization, I introduced myself: „My name is Charlotte.“
„Marita.“ This time her eyes smiled too. On my first day in the waiting room, the older woman had said, „Friendships are made here.“ And indeed, this encounter in the cold environment warmed my heart — and surely hers as well.
Finally, the doctor came and explained to me that the infection was subsiding and the pressure in the brain was normal. Perhaps they could start bringing Rudi out of the coma the next day. I was so happy I could have jumped for joy.
If they woke him up the next day, would he be back to his old self the day after tomorrow? – That’s what I hoped in my naivety. But a spark of doubt remained.
As he left, the doctor grinned again. This was obviously his attempt to smile; he couldn’t help himself. Dealing with people didn’t seem to be his strong suit. I would like to send some doctors to a seminar on „Empathetic Communication with Patients and Their Families.“ But so far, I was glad that they knew their craft and saved Rudi’s life.
„That sounds good,“ said Marita. „Rick should be waking up soon too.“
„I’m so glad!“
„It’s always a critical process.“ After the good news, I was so full of hope that I didn’t want to worry. „Then we can support each other here.“
Marita nodded.
For two days, I had been almost paralyzed with shock. On Wednesday, I pulled myself together to let our Greenpeace group know that Rudi would not be giving tours of the Greenpeace ship Beluga II over the weekend. I wondered if I should at least go there myself. I was the only press spokesperson for our group. Who else could give interviews? A representative of the press always came, sometimes even regional television. I didn’t want to let the group down, especially at the event of the year!
When I told the coordinator of our Greenpeace group about Rudi’s accident, she immediately said, „Oh my God! Then you can’t come this weekend either. I’ll ask the neighboring groups for support.“
„Good idea!“ I was relieved.
Until then, my involvement with Greenpeace had been one of the most important parts of my life. Now I hardly thought about it. That’s how quickly priorities can change. A spiritual guidebook with the provocative title FUCK IT! recommends imagining how minor problems would shrink in the face of a more serious catastrophe. But what to do when that catastrophe struck? Well, there were plenty of positive things I could cling to.
Then I set about taking over everything Rudi had been doing. It was difficult for me because my heart was racing and at the same time I felt dizzy from lack of sleep. We have a photovoltaic system, a rainwater cistern, water filters, and several computers networked with an external drive. Rudi had built and maintained everything, and I didn’t know much about it. Now I had to take care of it. My concern was compounded by feeling overwhelmed.
First, I checked to see if any orders for math CDs had come in. So I took a deep breath and entered his study. Immediately, I had a picture in my mind of how he had been sitting at his desk shortly before the accident. From behind, I had seen his bald head, perhaps for the last time so beautifully smooth.
For twenty years, he had worked on his website alongside his teaching job, through entire nights, weekends, and vacations. Every morning, the first thing he did was check how many interested parties had visited the site the day before. How would he cope if he could no longer concentrate on it?
Many teachers bought the Word documents on CD, and students and parents sent emails thanking him for the PDF files. Students, police officers, firefighters, and pilots recommended the website in their forums. He had often joked that it was successful because he was such a poor mathematician. One of his former fellow students had thrown her hands up in horror. „That’s mathematically incorrect!“
„But that’s how my students understand it,“ Rudi had replied.
He was a practical man. At the age of fourteen, after finishing eighth grade at elementary school, he had begun training as an electrician. After studying electrical engineering and working as an engineer, he had become a teacher.
He had been a workaholic from an early age. As a child, he had sawed through the thickest tree trunks or dug deep holes in his parents‘ garden. Even in his one year of retirement, he had either sat in front of his computer, ridden his bike, or been involved with Greenpeace. Meeting up with friends was too boring for him if he couldn’t go cycling. Years ago, when I read a book about workaholism, I wondered, „How does the author know Rudi?“
If I wanted to do something with him, I had to get on our tandem bike. We had bought it so that he wouldn’t have to stop at every intersection. Since then, I had been able to study the map from the rear seat, true to the saying: „The man steers, the woman thinks.“ On vacation, he would lie in a deck chair at most when he was exhausted after a canoe or bike tour. Our joint activities were limited to about one restaurant visit per month and one massage evening per week. Although we had agreed on a fixed day for this and it did him good, I usually had to beg him.
After more than thirty years, I had come to terms with all of this. That’s just how he was, and I couldn’t change it. We had many common interests, such as environmental protection, our cats, and the garden. He never meditated, but he was interested in everything I told him about it. We usually spent our evenings at home, each in our own study, on the computer or with a book in our hands. Friends commented on this, saying, „Rudi and Charlotte are enough for each other.“
It will be extremely difficult for him to lie there inactive, I thought to myself. Hopefully he will be able to talk to his friends.
Now I was standing in his study, wondering what our life would look like in the future. I pushed these thoughts aside and sat down at his computer. Game CDs, math books, and bicycle accessories were scattered across his desk. Fortunately, he had carefully noted down his passwords. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
Among his emails, I discovered a link to a post by a Greenpeace activist on his Facebook page:
„Rudi, my dear Rudi – I’m thinking of you and keeping my fingers crossed for you. I’m sure everything will be fine. Even though you can’t see or hear it at the moment, I hope you feel that we are all with you. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.“
Another Facebook friend then wanted to know what had happened. As much as I appreciated the sympathy, I feared that the news would spread and I would be bombarded with questions. To prevent that, I described what had happened in careful words. Shortly afterwards, I was inundated with get-well wishes. Melanie wanted to light a candle for Rudi in church! I was touched.
Then I saw a post from a cousin’s daughter. Oh dear! Soon my entire family would know and someone would ask my parents about it. Until then, I had put off telling them. On the one hand, I wanted to spare them the worry, and on the other, every time I mentioned the accident, I felt my heart beating faster. So I decided to give them the short version: „Rudi had an accident, but he’ll be fine.“
My mother was so shocked that she didn’t want to know any more.
I left a short message for my sister on her answering machine. A few minutes later, Hetti called back and put the phone on speaker so that her three children could also hear what had happened to Uncle Rudi. When I asked her how much they wanted to know, Hetti replied, „Everything.“
It’s a shame she lives in Berlin! She encouraged me and wanted to be kept up to date.
In addition, many of Julie’s students wrote me encouraging emails, such as: „Please continue to take care of yourself! Rudi is in good medical care for now.“
Encouraged by this, I described how Rudi and I were doing in a daily email.
…
On Thursday, the fourth day after Rudi’s accident, which was Corpus Christi, our friend Uli invited me for waffles with hot cherries and whipped cream.
„You need this right now!“ he said of this calorie bomb.
We sat in a café near the hospital and looked out at the lake. The sun’s reflection sparkled on the water; when a duck swam by, the waves destroyed the symmetry, but a new pattern emerged. What wonderful symbolism!
I enjoyed the idyllic setting, the treat, and above all, Uli’s company. As a lecturer at a nursing school, he was able to explain the medical background to me.
„Rudi will be back on his feet soon,“ he said. „He may have headaches more often. Fortunately, it’s not a brain contusion.“
„What’s that?“
„For example, if you bump your thigh against a table, you get a bruise. Blood vessels burst, the tissue swells, and it takes time for the body to reduce the swelling. On the leg, it heals quickly. The brain is the only organ that is completely protected by bone. A contusion puts pressure on the brain, which can destroy brain cells.“
„Lucky that Rudi doesn’t have a brain contusion!“
Full of confidence, I went to the intensive care unit. In the waiting room, Marita told a young Turkish man that she had finally been appointed by the district court as her husband’s guardian. As long as he was unconscious, she could now make decisions about his medical treatment, such as signing the consent form for an operation. This is not automatically possible for spouses. She could also manage her husband’s financial affairs, but this would be regularly monitored by the district court.
I was glad that Rudi and I had signed living wills with powers of attorney years ago. This saved me a lot of tedious paperwork at this time and, above all, allowed me to make decisions on my own. On the recommendation of our tax advisor, we had also given each other general power of attorney for our finances at a notary’s office. That was the only reason I was able to cancel Rudi’s monthly train pass without any problems.
In this context, Marita and the young Turkish man also talked about a nursing service.
Startled, I asked, „What do you need that for? Our husbands are getting rehabilitation.“
They looked at me in amazement.
„When they’re back home,“ Marita explained.
I stared at her in horror. Until now, I had firmly believed that Rudi would recover in rehab. Was I too naive?
The young man said that his twin brother was 22 years old and had been in a motorcycle accident. He had only had his driver’s license for a few days. His mother attributed the accident to her son’s inexperience. I felt sorry for the family. This man’s life had only just begun!
„My husband used to cycle ten thousand kilometers every year,“ I said. „When you have a lot of experience, you often feel too confident.“
Ten minutes after visiting hours began, the door was still closed. How fortunate that we were able to pass the time with conversation!
Most of the people in the room stared silently at the floor and glanced at their watches every two minutes. They were probably all thinking the same thing as me: Another emergency? Hopefully not my loved one!
The next surprise awaited me in Rudi’s room: there was a wire stuck in the top of his head, connected to a measuring instrument between the medicine vials. It beeped from time to time. I was surprised, but I was already used to these noises. Taking a seat on the chair I had brought with me and holding his hand became routine. I told him about our garden, how the pumpkins and zucchini were growing, how the tomato plants were blooming.
Shortly thereafter, a nurse rushed into the room. While she turned off the beeping instrument, she asked me, „Please do not touch your husband or speak to him!“
I flinched in shock.
Before I could ask why, she explained, „The pressure in your husband’s brain has risen dangerously. I’m going to give him some medication to reduce it.“ She drew up a syringe and injected the contents into the IV in Rudi’s hand. „The doctors believe that coma patients are unaware of their surroundings, but we often observe them responding to the voices of their loved ones.“
I took a few steps back and nodded. My mouth felt dry as dust. When I spoke to Uli a few minutes ago, I had been confident. Yesterday, a doctor had announced that Rudi would soon be woken up. How bad was it really?
„Can I speak to a doctor, please?“ I managed to say with difficulty.
„It’s very busy at the moment, I’ll ask,“ she said, then she was gone.
Marita turned to me. „It was like that with Rick for a day, then it was over quickly.“ She turned back to her husband.
Her words comforted me a little. Her husband had been in a coma for over a week. How long would it take for Rudi? I tried not to think about it. Instead, I recited mantras in my mind and imagined my hands resting on his chest.
After a few minutes, I felt calmer. Rudi lay there with his eyes closed. Nothing had changed, and yet he seemed more relaxed—or was I imagining it? Did he sense my presence? Did the mantras also have a positive effect on him? When he got through this, he would surely ask me why mantras have positive effects. I decided to explain it to him in my mind. At the moment, he couldn’t disagree.
›For Buddhists, concentrating on the sequence of unfamiliar sounds is a form of meditation. It calms the mind and relaxes the body. A rhythmic poem has a similar effect. Similarly, your school class would be more focused if they sang a mathematical formula together instead of talking over each other.‹
At this point, Rudi would laugh and say, „My students loved DorFuchs YouTube videos, but they never wanted to sing them.“
I felt the corners of my mouth turn up.
›As a physics teacher, you know that when a violinist strokes his bow along a copper plate sprinkled with sand, it produces a sound and the sand forms a beautiful, symmetrical pattern. If a sound has such an effect on inanimate matter, you can imagine how it affects you. Seed syllables such as Ah, Ohm, Hung, which are present in all mantras, have certain effects. Many mantras have a melody that I like to sing. Music, in turn, activates the same areas of the brain that respond to chocolate, sex, or drugs: it makes us happy.‹
Here, Rudi would wink at me. „You’re listing some things that I would like better!“
›In addition, singing strengthens our immune system, deepens our breathing, and relaxes us. The ancient Chinese already knew that health goes hand in hand with harmony and illness with disharmony. When we sing and hum, our pulse, breathing, and blood pressure synchronize. When I’m nervous, all my cells seem to bounce wildly back and forth. When I sing, they seem to join hands and dance in a circle.‹
I looked at my watch. When would the doctor finally arrive? How I would have loved to stroke Rudi! He was lying just three meters away from me. I hummed a few mantras to myself again. Then another aspect occurred to me.
›You know, Rudi, with every mantra I associate the situation in which I learned it. I especially like to remember how I squeezed into Julie’s room in the monastery guesthouse in Nepal with twenty friends. The scent of jasmine wafted in, and Julie’s room was almost bursting with our singing. I’ll sing it for you.‹
As I recited the mantra in my mind, I felt transported back to that situation and could once again snuggle into the security of that group. I no longer felt lonely, but as if I were being carried on a pink cloud.
Finally, a doctor arrived. She explained to me that if the pressure on the brain was too high, it could affect the brain stem. This oldest part of the brain controls vital bodily functions and must not be damaged. If the medication didn’t work, the doctors would also remove the other part of the skull bone.
Oh no, I thought.
„Does that mean my husband has a brain contusion?“
The doctor nodded, looking at me as if she was surprised that I didn’t know this.
„He has a grade three traumatic brain injury.“
„How many grades are there?“
„Three.“
That one word felt like a punch in the stomach. I wanted to curl up into a ball. My mind was racing, and I asked, „Where is the most damage?“
„Temporal and frontal.“
„Will he get rehabilitation?“
„Of course.“
„How long?“
„As long as he needs, at least three weeks.“
„What is the purpose of rehabilitation?“
„Everything that is necessary: speaking, walking, eating.“
Once again, she looked at me in astonishment.
While I was wondering why he had to learn all this again, the doctor pointed to Rudi and said, „He may be admitted to rehab like this.“
Again, I felt as if I had been struck by a blow. Quick-witted, I asked, „Is it also possible that he has no impairment at all?“
The doctor nodded and shrugged her shoulders.
Before the end of visiting hours, I said goodbye to Rudi in my mind and left. I felt dizzy. I feared I would burst into tears at any moment. I didn’t feel able to get on the bus, so I treated myself to a taxi. I got in the back. Fortunately, the driver was silent.
I tried not to imagine what might happen next. It was beyond my imagination. Until now, I had been sure that Rudi would soon be his old self again. Was that no longer true? Could I not trust my intuition?
Julie’s advice and lots of help
I needed to talk to someone, to understand the situation, and I craved encouragement. As soon as I got home, I tried to call Julie.
She is a hands-on teacher. I can talk to her about her cats or her eye-catching earrings and, of course, about my meditation practice. But she rarely uses the word „Buddhism.“ When one of her students asked her if she was a Buddhist, she told the following story about her trip through Ladakh with her Tibetan lama, Gyalwang Drukpa: „On the way, we met a young Frenchman who didn’t know much about Buddhism. He was impressed by Drukpa’s kindness and continued traveling with us. During a Buddhist ceremony, Drukpa sat on a throne in a magnificent robe, reciting Tibetan texts and performing the usual rituals. The young man wrinkled his nose, not only because of the smell of incense sticks. To reassure the young man, Drukpa leaned down to him and said, `You know, I’m not a Buddhist at all.´“
Julie lives in California, in the middle of the vineyards of Napa Valley. When she’s not teaching, she likes to give advice over the phone. She has several hundred students, so it wasn’t easy to reach her. It was evening here, morning there, a convenient time, and she answered. After I told her about the renewed pressure in Rudi’s head, the first thing she asked was, „Did you expect it to be better today?“
That wasn’t the comment I had hoped for. I felt caught out.
„For us, it’s frightening to remain in disbelief about what will happen,“ Julie explained. „We try to force situations in a certain direction. It’s important to remember that we can’t do that. It only makes us unhappy.“
So I wasn’t the only one who made this mistake. That reassured me. Then I remembered Julie’s account of her last flight to Nepal. Since she doesn’t tolerate long-haul flights well, she had written down what might help her feel more comfortable. But then she forgot the note and couldn’t find the medicine in her handbag. She was only human, after all.
„You’ve been explaining all this to me for over twenty years,“ I sighed, „but I keep forgetting it, especially when I’m feeling bad. What can I do?“
I picked up a pen to jot down her advice as a reminder.
„You can simply be aware of your feelings, wish Rudi well, and leave this situation to the wisdom beings so that the very best can happen for all beings. We can’t do that, but the wisdom beings can; they are wiser than any human being.“
In Buddhism, there is no creator god; instead, there are deities. Julie calls them wisdom beings, which I prefer. They are comparable to angels in Christianity. In keeping with Julie’s undogmatic nature, she left it up to us to choose Tibetan beings such as Tara or a grandmother, a tree, or something similar. The main thing is that it helps us. Some Buddhists dispute the physical existence of deities and see them merely as pictorial representations of symbolic figures. They use them to identify with a role model in meditation. Focusing on Tara, for example, strengthens the practitioner’s compassion. According to legend, Tara was a princess who promoted Buddhism in Tibet and was socially engaged. I like her best, I usually take her.
„I’m afraid,“ I confessed.
„Let the ‘little mind’ be afraid, ask for help, and let your fear go a little bit.“
Julie often talked about the „little mind“ that always wants to know what will happen and the „big mind“ that trusts that everything will happen as it should. In his book NO SELF, NO PROBLEM neuropsychologist and Buddhist Chris Niebauer assigns the little mind to the left hemisphere of the brain and the big mind to the right hemisphere.
„Your belief that Rudi will soon be well again is a story your little mind has made up. The little mind is no worse than the big mind. When you are relaxed, you can go into the big mind and wish Rudi well.“
„Relaxation!“ I groaned. „That would be nice!“
„Have a glass of wine, take a hot bath, or watch a funny movie,“ she advised.
„A comedy is a good idea!“ I said. „Besides Zapchen, there are other helpful things.“
„Yes, of course! Share your presence and your trust with Rudi! Switching back and forth between the small and big minds strengthens us. Being both at the same time is an advanced practice.“
Finally, she asked where the blood clot was located in Rudi’s brain. After I told her, she promised to try a „miracle“ together with two of her experienced students.
She speaks English, but understands my German. I didn’t dare translate that word. Did she want to use the power of thought to reduce the pressure in Rudi’s brain? I thanked her and hung up.
Then I tried calling Doris again, this time unsuccessfully. Instead, I reached Amri. As a neurologist and psychiatrist, she was familiar with brain problems. When I mentioned the brain contusion, she said:
„I’m sorry, it will take longer. But Rudi can still recover. Imaging techniques such as computed tomography can show where bleeding has occurred, but not whether brain cells have been damaged or died. Damaged cells can regenerate, and dead cells can be compensated for by other regions of the brain.“
„Thank you very much! That gives me hope again! The brain damage is said to have occurred in the frontal and temporal lobes. What does that mean?“
„Frontal means at the front, behind the forehead, and temporal refers to the area at the side, behind the temple. At the front is the part that controls emotions, and behind the temple is the language center.“
„I can imagine language problems. But how does a disorder in the emotional center affect him?“
Amri hesitated with her answer. Was she trying to hide something from me?
„Does that mean Rudi will be aggressive?“ I asked.
„That could be the case, or he could be tearful. But in most cases, the tissue recovers. The brain’s ability to repair itself is amazing.“
I breathed a sigh of relief. „Rudi will surely recover.“
„Charlotte, it’s also important that you stay healthy and take care of yourself, so you can be there for Rudi. Keep your kidneys warm! When you’re stressed, they contract.“ Amri’s voice sounded tense.
„Are you worried about me?“
She took her time answering again. „To be honest, yes. This could all be too much for you.“
„I can handle it! You’re all supporting me. Thank you so much!“
Only later did she admit to me that frontal lobe damage often causes personality changes — how exactly is impossible to predict. She had known me for years and had heard my story in Julie’s seminars. As a psychiatrist, she doubted whether I had enough strength and courage to get through this difficult time unscathed. As a friend, she was very worried about me. She hadn’t wanted to tell me all this at the time. She felt I had more than enough to deal with.
Following Amri’s advice, I put a hot water bottle under my back in bed. Although I took two pills, I couldn’t sleep. I imagined Rudi’s possible disabilities in the darkest colors. Would the many stairs in our house be an insurmountable obstacle for him, forcing us to move? Would he turn into a constant complainer? That would be the worst thing for me. But I could hardly imagine that happening to him. He was one of the kindest people I knew.
No, those were just fantasies, and I didn’t want to drive myself crazy with them! Instead, as Julie had advised, I tried to share my presence and confidence with Rudi. More and more often, I found myself remembering the body moving to the rhythm of the ventilator. The image of Rudi as a lively cyclist faded from my mind’s eye. I realized that I had photos of him, but no film, no memory of his healthy movements. I tried to imagine Rudi as a cyclist — as if he were floating about a meter to my right. Then I encouraged him in my mind and was actually able to feel a connection. At least it did me good.
That night, even the mantras didn’t help me. Around three o’clock, I woke up feeling restless. To distract myself from my brooding, I booted up my computer and found comfort in several emails. A Zapchen practice group hummed for Rudi, 2000 people sang 108 mantras. Our friend Uli wrote: „Thank you for letting us share so intensely in your ups and downs. I believe that all of us in the ‘Charlotte and Rudi Support Group’ are very close to you, and you can feel that too. During my meditation, you are with me and all my loved ones in a large flower meadow, and the energy of all the Buddhas shines down on us. I’m sure that helps. When Rudi is better, he can become a Buddhist. It doesn’t cost anything extra!“
Some of Julie’s German students translated my emails into English, so many people sent me messages of encouragement from the US and Australia. I absorbed every word of sympathy.
As I cried with emotion and gratitude, I received a video call from Birrell, one of Julie’s students from San Francisco. It was evening there. How wonderful it was to have dear friends all over the world! After Birrell comforted me, I was able to sleep again.
The next morning, Friday, my head was throbbing and my throat hurt. If I caught a cold, I would be denied access to the intensive care unit. That couldn’t happen! I swallowed everything I had in the way of herbal remedies to strengthen my immune system.
When I went to get the newspaper, I was surprised again: the headline read „Lucky Newspaper“. Normally, there is no newspaper after a public holiday. This time, the journalists had put together a special edition with only good news. On this day of my deepest despair, it was like balm for my soul. I thanked the editorial team with a letter to the editor, briefly describing Rudi’s situation and asking everyone to always wear a bicycle helmet. I put the happiness newspaper in my bag and read it on the way to the hospital.
Before entering Rudi’s hospital room, I took a deep breath, prepared myself for anything — and was surprised: The device that was supposed to measure his brain pressure was gone, and Rudi was no longer receiving medication to reduce the pressure. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was he feeling so much better? Had Julie’s miracle helped?