Comfy chairs and un-comfy words

JON: We went shopping for treats recently. This was not your ordinary chocolate and cake shopping, but shopping on the grand scale – Olympic shopping, in fact. As I may have mentioned a dozen or so times before, I have had a very stubborn case of sciatic nerve pain, which is basically a pain in the bottom. Bad news on top of the Parkinson's. Enough is enough, and action clearly needed to be taken.

Being of sound mind and scrambled body, I went looking for a chair that I can bear to sit in for more than 5 minutes. While being dragged around to places where Marie wanted to buy pointless things like towels and coffee tables and seed potatoes, I have taken every opportunity to thoroughly investigate the market for comfy chairs … and then … Marie found and bought herself a comfy chair which reclines and swivels and probably also types letters. So as not to be outdone, I too found a chair. Only mine is electrified with 2 motors: one reclines, i.e. turns the thing from a chair to a near-bed experience, while the other very cleverly raises the seat and effortlessly tips me out. All I have to do is press a button, something I still find myself able to do without assistance. The chairs should be delivered in about a month, and I can’t wait!

In other news, Marie had to go see one of her clients in Holland. The last time she visited them I was left alone and somewhat miserable at home, so this time she dragged me along. This had upsides and down sides. On the up side, I had company, restaurant meals, and British TV to watch at the hotel. The downsides were exactly the same. As a special challenge, they gave us a room with the shower over the bathtub, which meant I had to forego the continental habit of morning showers because I quite simply cannot raise my leg high enough to get into a tub in the mornings. Instead, I reverted to evening ablutions, with Marie there to assist me in and out.

The journey to Leiden gave us plenty of time to talk. Or to be more exact: it gave Marie time to talk, but that was OK because she talked about me. At least I thought it was OK until it transpired that she was in fact somewhat upset with me. I was very surprised to be informed that I subconsciously resent the fact that Marie is healthy and I’m not, and that I punish her for this by being obdurate (look it up, it’s a finely calibrated insult). I flatly deny this. But of course it doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not, our problem is that we disagree. I suspect the PD is somehow to blame and that Marie will simply have to find a way to live with it.

Her other complaint was that I don’t do the things that I can do. Of this I declare myself guilty, mea culpa entirely. It’s not that I deliberately don’t do things, it’s just that I don’t remember to do them. I need to be reminded, and I can see how the need to prompt me to do almost everything must be irritating. For this I will play the PD card (i.e. blame it on the disease). Because of the PD, I occasionally forget to brush my teeth. Me! I’m a dentist; I recognise the importance of clean teeth better that most people, and I’ve cleaned mine twice daily for over 50 years. If I can forget to brush, surely it’s no wonder I also forget to go for my walk, and collect the mail, and take out the trash, etc. etc. etc. Since shouting at me appears to have little effect, we’ve agreed to try a tick list of daily tasks on the fridge. This too shall pass…