I know it’s Spring as I rode home without wearing my jacket and all the college kids were outside, listening to boom boxes, playing with hurling sticks and balls, soccer balls and Gaelic footballs, enjoying a bit o’ beer or wine, sitting on chairs they drug out of their front rooms and cooking on the grill.
T’was lovely.
— Claude
“Remember that there is nothing stable in human affairs; therefore avoid undue elation in prosperity, or undue depression in adversity.” — Socrates
There was a strange convergence of good and bad when this opportunity to come to Ireland arose. Claude had been trying for years to find a position/job/occupation that would afford him the chance to move here. The blessed event came to pass in September of 2011 when he was offered his current position as third-party researcher at the National University of Ireland Galway. At the same time as this was occurring, I had, for lack of a better description, an attack – which eventually led to the MS diagnosis. I even cracked wise to him about how his fantastic news had to be tempered by a drastic diagnosis for me because that’s the way the universe works.
At the time we were covered by the health insurance offered by his employment in Colorado. Due to the fact that my primary care physician (a fancified term for family doctor) didn’t really know what to look for, and the subsequent fact that she referred me to an incompetent boob of a neurologist, it took 3 MRIs and a ridiculous number of office visits to finally get the diagnosis. By the time it finally did happen, I was informed by the incompetent boob that it was too late for the recommended treatment of 3 steroid infusions over 3 days. He recommended a drug that came from the manufacturer directly, something I had to fill out an application to obtain, then wait for them to process it through my insurance, then wait for them to send out the drugs and a home care nurse to show me how to shoot myself up with it. All of this was occurring while we were preparing ourselves for an overseas move.
I finally had to call the drug company about four times before I got the meds, then took them to my PCP’s office to have her nurse show me how to stick myself because the home care person was not calling me and time was running. I also discovered that the health insurance would only pay for 4 doses, never mind the fact that I was going to be moving overseas and it was going to take me God-knows-how-long to get another physician to prescribe more meds. I wasted time and money and health taking those four doses of medication, which made me sicker than I already was. The “nurse” at the drug company sympathized with my plight but could do nothing useful or helpful. Ah well, I thought, I’ll just go without until I can get into the health care system in Ireland and get my medical card.
By this time we were in Ireland, scrambling to find a place to live while Claude was starting an entirely new job. There were Garda registration cards to obtain, and a bank account to open, and there was a raft of paperwork to do for the university. I contacted the Irish MS Society and spoke to a very friendly and informative man who gave me much of the information I needed to get started with the system.
And then everything stalled. The woman at the Health Services Executive (HSE) told me to do the paper application rather than the online app because I had to write a personal letter explaining my situation. That was my first mistake. I was told I had to provide proof of residency in the form of a lease and utility bills in my name. We got that process started but it took several weeks to get all that from the cable & electric companies. We tried to open a joint bank account but they wanted so much paperwork and so much information and it was taking so much time away from Claude’s work hours that we decided to forgo that part. I was told I was to find a general physician who would confirm my diagnosis and refer me to a neurologist – I got lucky enough to find a local doc who worked with MS patients and took care of me and my needs at no charge. He referred me to a neuro guy at the public hospital. It took two months to see him…
I provided the HSE with the hosting agreement showing the one year commitment to Claude for his job, the one year lease on our home, the Garda reg cards showing the one year length, utility bills in my name, a copy of Claude’s paystub (only one at the time as he had only been on the job for one month) the application with the GP’s information and signature, and my letter begging for a medical card. I was told that I had not provided enough documentation. They needed his tax form from the university and more paystubs. Then they wanted bank statements. Then it was my American medical records. Now they’re saying we don’t have enough debt and continue to disregard the fact that I have a long-term illness and as such am entitled to the medical card.
In the meantime I have seen the neurologist, who seemed a bit skeptical about me and my story, or maybe he was just inscrutable and I read him all wrong. I just got
Merlin Park Hospital
the feeling that he really didn’t believe my diagnosis. Maybe it’s because MS is a young person’s disease and I am no longer the proverbial spring chicken. The incompetent boob did show me the proof of my diagnosis on the MRI scans and told me it was conclusive proof, so either he really was that fucking incompetent (excuse my language) or he was right. The Irish neuro wants to do the 3-day, 3 treatment steroid infusion that the incompetent boob said I didn’t need, as well as a new MRI for his baseline. But unlike the States this treatment has to be done in hospital here. The good news, if one can call it that, is that under the public health scheme the hospital only costs €75 per day. We’re not entirely sure if this includes food. However the MS nurse I saw right after the neuro doc assures me that I will also receive physical therapy treatment and other therapies related to MS. But I have to wait for them to tell me when I am entering the hospital and I have to call the day before admission to make sure there’s still a bed for me. I’ll let you know if that experiences sucks or not – I mean, more than it usually sucks to be in the hospital.
This morning’s call from the HSE proved once again that the people who work for the entity are kind and caring individuals who have to give bad news to people on an everyday basis. I was told our income is too high, we don’t have enough expenses, then advised to produce information proving Claude’s child support obligation. When I asked the woman about getting a card simply by virtue of my long-term illness, she asked me to provide medical records. Trying mightily not to sigh audibly in her ear, I told her I had done so, by registered mail, over 2 weeks ago. She checked and saw that they did have that information and advised me to wait at least another 10 days for a determination from “management.” I have called my GP guy and asked him to provide a letter backing me up for the medical card.
Once again, only time will tell. But in the interim I am put in mind of the people in America who bellyache about socialized medicine, about what a crap system it is – and I think of my Canadian friends who tout the system and say it beats the hell out of private health care. Having been a victim of both, I can categorically state that at least the health care I have received in Ireland so far has been infinitely less expensive than the health care I received in the US. I can’t say that it’s been better or worse on either side, as I have had two really wonderful General Practitioner/Primary Care Physician (s) and two very so-so neurologists. Maybe I won’t get that medical card. Maybe it won’t matter because so far the measures I have taken to care for myself seem to be working fairly well.
Through all this I have had the support of the greatest husband any woman ever dreamed of having at her side. Perhaps that is the best medicine of all.
— Cindy
“You will never truly know yourself or the strength of your relationships until both have been tested by adversity.” — J.K. Rowling
Irish wildflowers are blooming everywhere now. Pardon my ignorance but I don’t know the names of every single plant.
I can’t wait to get out to Connemara and see what sorts of flowers are flourishing!
— Cindy
Rosemary
Bluebells
Buttercups
Daffodils and tulips
I got a new camera for Mother’s Day (Ireland) and had a chance to take it for a test run down by the bay. Enjoy!
— Cindy
A view of the bay on the way down the hill
The diving board at Blackrock basking in the sun
Sunlight on the bay
Playing in the sand
Galway Bay is an amazing body of water. Every morning as I ride to and from work I take the time to appreciate it.
Its coloring changes from minute to minute with the weather. During wet and windy weather it has a dark brooding feel with foamy crested ridges, though often the sun will strike the water from over in County Clare and provide a silvering of the horizon. At sunset or sunrise it can transform into a rilled grenadine red sea. During the day it is a blue or green and often with the silvering of the sun threatening to blind.
The scent of the salt, seaweed, drift wood, and wet sand permeates the area. On sunny days the scent of warm rocks and sand whispers to me and induces the lethargy of late spring or early autumn.
On the windiest of days the salt and sand can be felt as well as smelled, and at high tide the breakers wash across the prom leaving ridges of deposited sand to dry in the next day’s sun.
On some days the Clare coast is as clear as a bell, the sea spans the horizon to the west, and on others it is shrouded in mist and fog.
The bay, it is always there, it is always the same and yet it is always different.
— Claude
St Paddy’s Day is passed and I have come to reflect on the quiddity of the Irish people. An Irish friend told me that the Irish have a fundamental philosophy that dictates that things will work out. His example was that one of the non-Irish directors at work became concerned about a change in political will at the highest levels. To hear my friend tell it this director was running around like Chicken Little for want of a new strategy and plan. His Irish counterparts were much more relaxed and and took the serene Irish approach to the problem — Things will work out: cibé rud a tharlóidh, in Spanish que sera sera.
The Irish don’t appear to have the rugged individual as an archetype; there is no Marlboro Man. While there is a concept of ownership and a pride therein, there is also a concern for others. There seems to be very little of the “I’ll take what there is and others be damned” attitude that I find so prevalent in the United States. There seems to be more concern about the smaller guy, perhaps because in international dealings Ireland is the small guy. When the Irish economic bubble burst a few years ago, Ireland, under the pressure from the International Monetary Fund, (IMF) bailed out the Anglo Irish Bank (AIB) and implemented austerity measures that pushed the people farther into poverty and the economy to the brink of insolvency. The government finds itself squeezed between the corporastocracy-inducing IMF and the anger of its people. So how does the anger of the riled up Irish express itself? Currently I see protests (Occupy Galway, household tax protests), and political humor in the St. Patrick’s day parade in the form of St. Patrick chasing the AIB snakes out of Ireland.
What does it mean to be a US Citizen in Ireland? I feel shame. From this small country arises an armed force of 13,500 soldiers. And where are they deployed? From Wikipedia: Army personnel are currently serving in Kosovo (KFOR & UNMIK), Bosnia Herzegovina (EUFOR BiH), Western Sahara (MINURSO), Congo (MONUC), Afghanistan (ISAF), Chad (MINURCAT), Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI), Lebanon (UNIFIL) Haiti (UNDAC) and the Middle East (UNTSO). Seems like they are helping people or cleaning up messes made by the US. In the St. Patrick’s day parade, there were members of state police from Massachusetts. Their uniforms, in stark contrast to those of the Irish Garda, were very militaristic and fascist in appearance. While they may be the good guys, out to protect and serve, they didn’t portray that. They portrayed the “might makes right” philosophy of the US Government. Another float in the parade portrayed the Irish government ministers under the control of the banks and the banks making millions on the arms trade. I feel shame that the US is the worlds largest arms trading country. I feel shame that the US government has become a corporastocracy. I feel shame that Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address has come to ring hollow. The US is now engaged in several foreign wars proving that government of the corporation, by the corporation, and for the corporation can long endure. I feel shame that I lived in and was part of the worlds largest bully.
I feel wonder and awe at the Irish. Socialism is alive and well here, and unlike the specter portrayed in the US by the far right bleatings and machinations it is not a bad thing. The Irish are approaching a crossroads. They will soon decide if they will continue down the path of corporastocracy and all it entails or take another path. I hope their quiddity leads to a government of the people, for the people and by the people and that it shall long endure.
—
Corporastocracy : (n) Government under control of corporations. Often felt to be a kakistocracy.
— Claude
As I noted before I have a city bike. I bought the bicycle when I moved to Denver, CO from the nearby town of Evans. At the time Cindy and I had decided to move to the city and try to live our lives without the benefit of the automobile. We were not going to completely quit using our car, just reduce the use to a bare minimum through the use of bicycles and public transportation. Denver, it turns out, has one of the best public transit systems in the United States, so I spent most of my time on the bus and the bicycle sat in the basement. I took it out once a week or so to ride to the store for groceries or just because I was going stir crazy and needed to ride. It was one of three bicycles I had in the stable and probably the one I rode the most. The road bike (old Trek 720) rolled easier but was more susceptible to punctures. The Mtn Bike (Trek 3700) took the dirt better but had a much higher rolling resistance. In any case, I, like most Americans, did not ride as much as I thought I would. I will admit that on some trips to the grocery I loaded the panniers to their maximum capacity and strapped other items on the top of the rack to the point that the front wheel rose off the ground.
In coming to Ireland that all changed. First, I left the other two bikes behind as there is not room to store them here. Second, because while the public transit system in Galway works, it would take me far longer to ride the bus than to cycle. My experience with the flat tyre leads me to believe that it would take almost as long to walk as to ride the bus to work. So I ride my bike to work every day. I normally take a route that is longer but flatter than the direct route, though if the wind is particularly strong I’ll take the hilly route as it is shorter and the hills protect me from the wind until I reach the downhill stage.
The roads in Ireland are small, paved, with a few potholes here and there. Riding through the University region there seems to be a great quantity of broken glass, but all in all the environment is conducive to cycling. I recently calculated that in the 4 months that we have been here I have put as many miles on my bike as the average racer put on in the Terreno-Adriatico this year, so perhaps I should review my trusty steed.
There are several things that make this bicycle a great commuter bike:
There are several things I have changed from the original configuration:
There are several things that I find annoying:
There are only major two issues that I have had to deal with:
There is one item that I find useless: The European bike lock. This is a little pincer-like lock that locks the rear wheel so that it will not roll. While this may work in places like Amsterdam where there are few cars and carrying the bike would be a pain, in the States and probably here in Ireland, there are enough vehicles to throw the bike into and cart it away to make the lock useless. To make matters worse, the key for the lock can not be removed without locking the lock. So you can’t disable the lock and if you forget to lock the lock and remove the key some prankster can prevent you from getting home by doing just that.
All in all, if you want to ride a bicycle for general transportation this one should be on your list of bicycles to check out.
— Claude
Today’s parade was so much fun! There weren’t nearly as many people in the city centre as we have had to deal with back home in the big city so that made all the difference. From what I could tell the children attending had a lot of fun too. So many fun costumes and green green green everywhere! The day started off soft with a light drizzle, then the sun came out, then it rained a bit more – a typical Galway day!
Looking up Bridge St to Shop St
The parade didn’t really go all that far, only about 1 kilometer, so the people at the beginning actually doubled back before the whole parade passed by!
A large leprechaun
The town crier
Members of the Galway County Ploughman's Association
From the original to modern day equipment
Saint Patrick kicking the zombie banks out of Ireland
These guys were really popular!
A little "Irish dude"
Russian-Irish community
St. Francis
The Blue Teapot Theatre Company's dancing garbage pile
This wonderful group had a bunch of people sweeping up the garbage – many of the members of the group were disabled kids. They all looked like they were having a great time!
The dancing garbage pile
The Ghana Union of Galway - beautiful kente clothing!
Salthill Knocknacarra GAA Club
The hometown team!
Filipino dancers
Pipers
The traditional bagpipes!
Massachusetts State Patrol
There was a group of firefighters from NYC and Jersey City as well as this group of State Patrol officers.
A Polish-Irish motorcycle group
Environmental group on their cool 5-man bike
A Galway circus group
— Text by Cindy, Photos by Claude
I can’t get over what a gorgeous day it is today in our little corner of western Ireland. It began with a special delivery from a dear friend in Colorado who took pity on me and was kind enough to send me a care package of my favorite American bread spread. The sky, while partly cloudy, is allowing teasing glimpses of the warming sun. The sky over the bay is clear enough to see all the way to the Claddagh and Twain Island, even County Clare. Children and dogs are playing on the sand and in the tide pools. The Prom is not crowded but has its share of happy, smiling people strolling along it – as a matter of fact, everyone is pretty friendly today. PJ, the groundskeeper, is cruising the estate on his riding lawn mower and grinning like the cat that ate the canary. The daffodils and tulips and morning glory and heather and rosemary are all blooming – a few freshly picked, beautiful, fragrant daffodil blooms grace my mantelpiece at this moment. I got to have lunch with the best husband ever, and I even timed it right and caught every bus without having to wait every single time!
— Cindy
“See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out”
It’s cycling season again. I’m a
cycling widow even if I sit and watch the races with Claude because I still do not understand the attraction of the whole sport. Something about spending 7.. 8.. 10 hours on the saddle of a bike seems entirely unpalatable to me, more akin to torture of the damned. How anyone can actually have fun riding like these guys do is simply beyond my ken.
On the other hand, I always know where Claude is when the race is on. I’ve learned a lot of the pro riders’ names. And the scenery they feature of the places in which the bike boys ride is absolutely stunning. Listening to the commentators, especially the Scottish men, is a lot of fun due to the fact that they still say the stupidest things (as sportscasters are wont to do) but with a fun accent.
The really challenging part of this season will be when we are traveling through Europe during the Tour de France. Fortunately we will be in France for part of the race so at least we won’t be able to miss it!
— Cindy
galwayrambling 
