Big questions

Back from my trip to the UK to see my daughter, son, daughter-in-law, son-in-law, granddaughter and grandson – one of each and all bases covered. The family is a veritable melting pot of multicultural diversity: my first wife, mother of my children, is the only English person in the room. I’m half German and half German-Jewish, one in-law is Scandinavian (as is my wife) the other is second-generation Indian, partly via Kenya. This makes my grandchildren Indian/German/Hindu/Jewish/CofE/British – apparently a perfect and harmonious mix, but their DNA must be very tightly coiled.

The point of all this, though, is the depressing question of whether PD is genetic. PD that is not caused by an identifiable outside influence such as drugs or encephalitis is called idiopathic (from Greek idios=own and pathos=disease). That indicates a totally random eeny-meeny-MEAN kind of personal bad luck, but many doctors and sufferers believe that there is also an element of genetics involved (and of environmental influence too). I actually have an uncle with PD, which is worrying – because if there is any truth in the idea that PD is partly genetically determined, that means I may have passed on dud genes to my kids and grandkids. I don’t want to think about that (so I do).

I’m carrying on with my new pill regime for the second week, i.e. more Sifrol plus also one small anti-depressant each night to help me sleep. I need the help, but I’m also getting quite worrying side effects. Thus, before we left for the UK Marie had to prevent me going for walk in garden – naked at 3:00 am, after attempting to lift the garden door off its hinges. Another night I freaked out the cat when I went on a search for “air bears” in living room. I also have vivid dreams, for instance of buying a new house and having to piss in sink because there is no loo there – so vivid that I checked the sink next time I woke. It looked wet but not yellow, but I rinsed it anyway …

I’m told that these side effects will wear off after a week or three. And they better bloody had, because an unpleasant scenario is unfolding at work. Monday Boss asks me to write a simple bit of software. I confidently say OK, I will have it done for him by Thursday, because it really was a trivial bit of coding. But the snag is I am hung over from the new pills, so Friday rolls round and I have to admit to Boss and myself that I have failed to come up with the code. Together we decide to send me home sick until mind and body have improved. Boss understands the difference between health problems that are caused directly by the PD progressing, and health problems that are secondary or unrelated, and therefore potentially curable/reversible. My reaction to the new drugs is in the second category.

But for me, THE BIG QUESTION is: can I actually still write a simple program? I feel my head clearing somewhat, but the world seems to be seen through a dark glass. I used to do this work all the time, and I’m starting to panic that perhaps now I can’t (and the panic obviously isn’t making the task any easier). The books say that about 30% of PD sufferers develop some cognitive impairment, but how can you tell? What is PD and what is a normal process of getting older and slower and less able to learn new skills? A good friend of mine who was at least as good at programming as I stopped years ago because he just found it harder and harder to learn each new version of software. Is that what is happening to me, or is it something more sinister? If I look on the bleakly black side then
* I’m not reading as much or to the level I used to
* Driving has become a nerve-wracking task – though I’m safe because I’m scared
* Senior moments are getting more frequent and my short term memory is rubbish
* I could not sort out setting up this blog but needed help from #2, and before it has always been her who needed help from me with IT
* Finding the correct word is getting difficult – apparently a very common symptom of PD, but worrying nonetheless. It gives a sensation of time dilation where it seems like half a minute ticks by before the word comes to me, whereas others say it is really just a brief pause. Often I cope by walking away, and Marie pretends to ignore the pauses.

Have you seen Flowers for Algernon? A fine (SF) book and later film in which our hero starts out stupid, achieves a high level of intelligence helped by drugs, and then while fully aware of his plight looses it all, reverting to stupid. It always makes me cry.

Anyway, what this probably is, is a clear demonstration that a little learning is a dangerous thing. Between us, Marie and I have five degrees and every book on PD we could find on Amazon. I can tell you with some confidence that it is not a good idea to read all of them in one go, it will set off severe hypochondria in the most well-adjusted person – which I am not, so there’s my excuse.