JON: It happened again, Marie left me to go Holland to do something professional and hopefully well-paid This time only for 4 days, but that’s enough time for things to go wrong. Marie left me with a full fridge, a list of dos and don’ts and a handful of phone numbers. I felt prepared for the nuclear winter that is Denmark, and things were going well until I tried to use the microwave and the kettle at the same time. A fuse blew (come to think of it, I think the seller may have predicted that something along those lines would happen). I tried saying “Let there be light” a few times, but it stayed resolutely dark. Very, very dark, although there was sufficient light to get me into bed – and in the morning there was enough light for me to see that I didn’t understand the 40 year old foreign fuse system at all.
Our next-door neigbour had said she would be happy to help out with any problems (although she speaks no English). Lots of people are happy to offer help feeling that it is very un-likely that the help will ever need to be given, but I had to take her on her word, and she was fantastic! A cursory look revealed that she too was out of her depth, but out came her mobile and within minutes her father appeared, diagnosed the problem and went off to the nearest shop (several miles away) to buy fuses, then returned and made light.
So what has all this got to do with PD? Well, had I been my old self, I would have worked out the fuse system and solved the problem myself somehow. Failing that, I would have been able to think of an alternative solution without ringing Marie in the middle of a meeting. I could have confidently strolled across the frozen tundra that is our driveway without falling and having to turn back. Indeed, I could have driven Marie to the station and therefore have had the car so been able to do my own fuse-shopping. But with PD, I now have to rely on the kindness of others. I am pretty sure that had we been new neighbours in the city (any city), I would have sat in darkness and waited for Marie to return to a fully defrosted freezer. We’ve picked a good place to live.
PS: I have now seen a doctor (as a private patient since I am still waiting for the magical CPR number that will throw open the doors to national health care) who has referred me for a X-ray of my hip and for physiotherapy while we wait. I have my first physio appointment in two days. I hope for pain relief, Marie hopes for a set of exercises she can taunt me with. I know she means well…
PPS: When I fell over in our icy driveway, to my surprise it didn’t hurt at all. Maybe the jolt of adrenalin helped, and also prevented a panic attack. Anyhow, I just stood up, no fuss, no mess, and went back to the house. With PD there will be many falls in the future, and although there was obviously some climate input involved, I’m wondering if this counts as PD fall #1?
Showing posts with label strangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strangers. Show all posts
16 January 2011
31 March 2010
At the airport
MARIE: Apologies for the slight interruption in service – we have been away on each our long weekend trip. I went off in one direction to a conference, while Jon went off in the other direction to visit friends and family in England. As a result of good fortune and careful planning, we had flights out of Amsterdam within half an hour of each other. It felt very jet-setting to kiss my husband goodbye not at the train station, and not at passport control, but actually airside at the gate.
The trip also led me discover something new about Jon and Parkinson’s. A lot of people with Parkinson’s complain that when they are out in public, people treat them like they’re drunk. I’ve never really understood that – okay, the slurred speech that PD can cause does perhaps sound a bit drunk, but how can somebody walking towards you in the street know what your speech will sound like? And drunks don’t tend to shake and twist, do they? So although of course I believe what people say when they complain about being treated like drunks, I’ve never really understood how this came about.
But standing behind Jon in the queue for passport control, seeing him wobble up to the counter, and then watching as he swayed and gyrated while the officer checked his passport – now I know where the drunk thing comes from. It’s all about balance.
In addition to all the other things PD does, it affects “postural stability”, which is the ability to take up a posture and maintain it. People with advanced PD often fall because of impaired balance, and already Jon is finding it almost impossible to maintain balance when walking backwards. And, as I realized at the airport, he can’t stand still for even the 20 seconds it takes to get his passport checked. He was in constant motion, swaying a bit to the right, righting himself but then leaning to far to the left, bending the knees to lower his centre of gravity and regain balance, then straightening up and starting all over again with the gentle swaying. And he looked exactly like a morning drunk. It is heartbreaking to see, and to know that there is nothing I or anyone else can do to make it better.
Actually, it reminds me of our last trouser-buying expedition where I sat outside the changing rooms as Jon did battle with shoes and feet and trouser legs. Meanwhile, a much older man strode out of his changing room to confer with his wife over trousers and as a totally natural thing he did that deep knee bend that you do to check that the trouser legs aren’t too tight. Such a small thing, such a natural and familiar movement, and so far out of Jon’s reach. I felt a right idiot, coming over all emotional outside the men’s changing rooms. Jon isn’t the only one to make a spectacle of himself.
The trip also led me discover something new about Jon and Parkinson’s. A lot of people with Parkinson’s complain that when they are out in public, people treat them like they’re drunk. I’ve never really understood that – okay, the slurred speech that PD can cause does perhaps sound a bit drunk, but how can somebody walking towards you in the street know what your speech will sound like? And drunks don’t tend to shake and twist, do they? So although of course I believe what people say when they complain about being treated like drunks, I’ve never really understood how this came about.
But standing behind Jon in the queue for passport control, seeing him wobble up to the counter, and then watching as he swayed and gyrated while the officer checked his passport – now I know where the drunk thing comes from. It’s all about balance.
In addition to all the other things PD does, it affects “postural stability”, which is the ability to take up a posture and maintain it. People with advanced PD often fall because of impaired balance, and already Jon is finding it almost impossible to maintain balance when walking backwards. And, as I realized at the airport, he can’t stand still for even the 20 seconds it takes to get his passport checked. He was in constant motion, swaying a bit to the right, righting himself but then leaning to far to the left, bending the knees to lower his centre of gravity and regain balance, then straightening up and starting all over again with the gentle swaying. And he looked exactly like a morning drunk. It is heartbreaking to see, and to know that there is nothing I or anyone else can do to make it better.
Actually, it reminds me of our last trouser-buying expedition where I sat outside the changing rooms as Jon did battle with shoes and feet and trouser legs. Meanwhile, a much older man strode out of his changing room to confer with his wife over trousers and as a totally natural thing he did that deep knee bend that you do to check that the trouser legs aren’t too tight. Such a small thing, such a natural and familiar movement, and so far out of Jon’s reach. I felt a right idiot, coming over all emotional outside the men’s changing rooms. Jon isn’t the only one to make a spectacle of himself.
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