A PARKINSON DAY

Before getting gloomy about PD, I’d like to mention that I saw a small man dressed smartly in a suit in the supermarket knocking tins and packets off the top shelves with his umbrella and catching them in his basket. I nabbed the manager and suggested he recruited taller staff for such situations. He didn’t seem impressed. I bet that Aldi would have acted more positively!

Meanwhile we recently flew back from Spain on a budget flight and the Chief Stewardess announced the names of the crew, as they do. “I’m Kylie, this (next to her) is Wendy, and in the middle of the aircraft (pointing at a third crew member) it’s Tuesday”. I laughed but no one else did. As I exited the plane I said it was the funniest thing that had happened to me on a flight. The flight attendant didn’t see the funny side. Perhaps it’s a health and safety issue?

Enough of Tuesday.

What’s it like to have PD from a practical point of view? Well here’s a practical point of view.

Waking up. One of my main problems is waking up – I sleep so deeply that I cannot wake and routinely lie there half asleep, miserably gloom laden, waiting for my alarm, which I set to no purpose. The answer of course is to force myself out of bed and face the day, take the medicines and get moving by feeding the dog, having a pee, walking the dog, making a pot of tea and returning to bed with the Guardian.

Bathroom. Main problem is having to shave with a shaky right hand, so I shave and re-shave and re-shave, until I’m smoother than an apple skin. Am reluctant to try an electric razor as one of life’s minor pleasures is wet shaving.

Toilet. Shaky hands mean peeing over the right hand rim, adjusting angle so as to pee over the left rim, hence my use of the wet room for toilet activity. Wet rooms cover a multitude of sins. Incidentally a PD shake works well in shaking off the final drops.

Walking the dog. Too tired to walk far enough to tire the dog properly. Hence over use of the ball thrower which dog bit the head off. Just been on Amazon for a new one. But somebody should explain to the dog what the rules of the ball thrower are as she makes out not to know she has to return a ball before I can re-throw it. She can also master holding up to three balls at a time, the better to foil me. To hold more balls she has to swallow them and while she throws up odd items (cuff links are a favourite) I never found a tennis ball, or a plastic bag for that matter.

Throwing. Feeble.

Cooking. Shaking when pouring the kettle into the pot leads to minor scalding incidents.

Eating. Can’t get soup spoon to mouth. Dribble a bit.

Travel. Struggle to get into and out of smaller cars though still have driving licence. You would only notice me drumming my right hand and fingers on the steering wheel as if possessed by Led Zeppelin.

Sleep. What’s it like to go to bed and wake up with PD? Well you have to sleep soundly first and somehow the shakes vanish when you clear your mind of them, so there is no reason why you shouldn’t sleep well. Except for the hallucinations that the medicines seem to provoke and consequent screaming fits that wake my wife, but not me. And then there’s the hot sweats and stuff. And then the shaky tea cup.

To elaborate on sleeping, on a couple of recent camping expeditions I have struggled with sleeping on a Lilo where the slightest movement has left me lying down the gap between the Lilo belonging to my wife and the one I sleep on. Once down the gap between the two I simply cannot remount (that’s remounting the Lilo and not my wife), try as I might. Even in a conventional bed the PD problem is finding a comfortable place or position to sleep in. See the new film Everest for a similar dilemma.

Conversation with the Naked Men at the swimming pool focused on the coming of Jeremy Corbyn and lack of support from his fellow MPs. The quality of stipendiary magistrates was also covered.

Debate at the pub focused on beer quality and prices, the Chelsea Doctor and supporting a Thai Bride. No conclusions were reached