#234 PD Notes, a Story, and Photos

 

San Francisco de Asis Church in Ranchoes de Taos in color and BW

About the photos in this post: I found some photos from a trip to Santa Fe and Taos, NM, we took a few years ago. I combined some I haven’t shown before with a photo program called Sketcher, used to enhance the image or create a more painterly (if that’s a word) look. The photos aren’t meant to go with the PD info or the story, only to brighten up the blog. Hope you enjoy parts or all of this post and I always appreciate your comments.

Barns and ruins in southern Colorado.

Continuing to Live with Parkinson’s Disease

You should easily guess which one of us didn't care for the snake pot displayed in a Taos museum.

There are four main symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease: Resting Tremor (as opposed to active tremors that hit when lifting weight), Slowness of Movement, Impairment of Balance, and Rigidity or Stiffness (the only symptom of the four that I haven’t really experienced yet). Then there are more than forty other and often hidden symptoms, many of which are not pleasant to talk about in detail such as constipation, drooling, and rhinorea (look it up).

What I do want to talk about is the way PD makes the simple things of life so difficult. Autonomic activities, those bits of living we do without thinking about them (such as walking, talking, or eating) are suddenly not so automatic because my brain no longer produces enough dopamine to keep doing those things like putting on a seatbelt in a car. I used to get in the car, grab the seatbelt across my body, plug it in and I was ready to go.Now I slowly get in the car seat, reach around slowly feeling for the belt (remember Slowness of Movement is a major symptom), try to get the metal flange in hand, make several attempts to pull the belt across my body, and hope it only takes me two minutes to plug the buckle in. No wonder I keep my driving to only local and easy jaunts! I find I’m still okay brushing my teeth, but I have some real challenges with dressing. I used to throw on a jacket to go out in the cool winter air, but now I’m pleased to get one arm in correctly before I begin battle with the second arm hole. Buttons are a new challenge when they used to be something I didn’t even think about. There are a few (very few) positives—perfecting the perfect 007 martini, shaken not stirred seems more doable now.

PD does change living patterns. I now leave a full half hour to get dressed—make it an hour if I’m going to add beard trim and shower. And tell me when I lost the ability to dry my back after a shower. Come on, dopamines, let me have a dry back back. 

Line of cottonwoods in southern Colorado.

Sangre de Cristo Mtns from Rio Grande Gorge Bridge and from Taos.

Pure Nostalgic Story about Nona, Silver Bells, and Coney Dogs

Museum art, Taos.

Every Christmas season brings with it special memories of my Nona (Italian grandmother, although Nona was probably a mix of Mexican and Apache adopted by an Italian family in Colorado), the song Silver Bells, and Coney Island hot dogs. During my childhood years I would spend a lot of time with Nona, my maternal grandmother. At Christmas time in Sacramento Nona and I would get on a city bus and travel downtown to what was for me a wonderland of decorated streets and shops. On every corner in the downtown area would be large decorated silver bells and stores would have the song playing in the background. Nona was half blind from Diabetes and I learned to help guide her around town—I was maybe seven or eight years old. My reward was always the same, a lunch at The Coney Island, a hot dog store with a few tables and a long counter with bar stools. A staple in the K Street area in the fifties and sixties, The Coney Island (new owners changed its name to Lindy’s in 1957) closed in the early seventies. I remember hot dogs were 15 cents and coneys were 25 cents and the coney sauce was to die for. As I recall there was never much money for shopping, but Nona and I had great times looking and singing Silver Bells.   

Next: More found photos I hope. PS. Thanks, Rumpelstiltskin, for the kind comments.

#233 Happy New Year

 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ONE AND ALL

In this post I attempt to cover two topics, the first related to my struggles with Parkinson’s Disease and the second an assignment I gave myself in the last post of the blog.

A Fall in the Fall

First is a story that happened a couple of weeks ago—-it’s about a fall which appropriately happened in the fall and is being written about while it’s still autumn [Notice how I deftly avoided another use of “fall.”] Also appropriately I was leaving a Parkinson’s support group meeting at the Canby Adult Center when I suddenly found myself on the ground of the parking lot. My head was bleeding, glasses askew, small gashes on my hand and one knee. How I got there I’m not sure. I could have tripped over a rough spot in the parking lot asphalt or I could have stumbled on the toe of a dragging foot. Whatever happened, I luckily didn’t hit the ground very hard. 

Taken by Anne at my request. Me on the ground surrounded by help while waiting for the professional (EMT) help.

Better yet I had numerous people around me ready to help—Anne (who goes to the meeting as a caregiver), a couple of other PD patients and caregivers, two staff from the Adult Center. Also, it was good that I knew what to do. I stayed down and waited for the EMTs who were called soon after I fell and who specialize in picking up and caring for the fallen.

The Canby Fire Dept. rescue truck arrived in five or six minutes, thankfully with no siren blaring. The two EMTs checked me over and after confirming that I had no major injuries picked me up off the ground and got me on my feet. They helped me walk to the rescue ambulance where they checked me out more thoroughly.  Since I had hit my head on the ground, bending my glasses but not breaking the frame, they said I should consider a visit to the hospital in case I was concussed [I’ve always wanted to use that word, “concussed,” if it is a word.], We decided that with neighbors on both sides being nurses, we’d have help close by if I felt worse later. 

The result of the fall was a sore wrist and knee, some facial scabs, a little embarrassment, and a reality check. There is good logic to Parkinson’s warning that each of us struggling with the condition are only one bad fall away from a really bad day. My day wasn’t this one.  

My Photo Assignment

Celebrating Thanksgiving with a dinner out at Arrowhead GC in Mollala.

We did manage to get in a round of golf in good weather.

 

I managed to take a couple of almost good photos at the course.

The second part of this post is my response to an assignment I gave myself: "put together a photo essay of a small town between Thanksgiving and Christmas." My intent was to produce a coherent narrative of events and scenes in and around the holidays as celebrated in Canby. Within the photos I’d come up with I would hopefully find a couple (maybe more) of significant artistic value. What I ended up with was a bunch of trite snapshots not worthy of a passing grade on the assignment.

We went to our rented storage unit to pick up the last of the 17 boxes of Christmas decorations.

Why such a poor result when I had had such lofty hopes? This may sound like I’m looking for an excuse for my performance, but really I’m just recounting how I conspired against myself and got no help from outside sources.

Some of the decorations in our home for the holidays. Anne does a great job of organizing and displaying our treasures.

I had envisioned going to local town events and taking pictures of holiday cheer and happiness, but when I had opportunities I blew my chances. For instance, when at Anne’s birthday meal out with friends I didn’t even think about taking my camera until we were already at the restaurant. I did the same for a big band Christmas concert at the Hope Village Community Center. 

At the concert I did borrow Anne's iPhone to get picture. It's the only shot I took and you can tell I'm not used to using the iPhone as a camera.

I had planned to visit a couple of local parks (for nature photos and pictures of lighting displays). I did neither, I simply dropped the ball on those ideas. I have to say my Parkinson’s didn’t cooperate at all. Early in the month I fell [see previous story] and recovery was slow with several visits to doctors and therapists in the way of anything planned. I could have pivoted on my plans and come up with something else, but winter blues or Parkinson’s apathy put an end to that. The pictures I did come up with lack any value beyond the typical scapebook snapshots which could have been taken with 1953 Kodak Brownie. 

The city of Canby is nicely decorated by local snowman contest (as well as a light in the park display. I made very poor use of bothers opportunities. There's much more that I could have done.

I did learn that if I’m going to continue to produce anything worth your time to view I have to find ways to overcome physical and mental blocks that I faced on this assignment. If  I do that, the month will not have been a total washout.

Lots of local flooding and wind damage was done by the three Atmospheric Rivers (used to be called The Pineapple Express) hit us in a two week period.

NEXT: Something worth your time to read and see.

#232 Happy Thanksgiving

 HAPPY THANKSGIVING 

It’s time for a special seasonal post. This blog post contains two messages—one about Parkinson’s Surprises and one Seasonal message, all surrounded with fall photos taken near to home. 

Turn, Turn, Turn

One thing about Parkinson’s Disease is that it is a condition full of surprises. Who knew that I’d need dopamine to remember how to dress myself—how to pull my pants on or put on or take off an overshirt. Who knew that a middle toe could turn under so much that I’d walk on its top side.  Or that I’d have to figure out how to deal with Rhinorea (excessive and consistent runny nose). And one that really surprised me is that I didn’t know that I’d seemingly forget how to roll over in bed. The condition has a name as well—it’s called Nocturnal akinesia, difficulty moving your body in bed.  It seems like all at once I went from being able to gleefully or sleepily roll myself over to where I could hop out of bed. All of a sudden something so natural and easy was almost impossible. No, really, I went from easily getting out of bed or rolling over from my stomach to my side, to feeling like I was a raw potato wrapped in velcro trying to roll over on a bed of velcro. Let that picture sink in—it’s like one evening I slid into bed on satin sheets and woke up in the morning tied to the bed like Jonathan Swift’s Gullliver was tied to the ground. Surprise!

I now am seeking to learn tricks for turning over or getting out of bed without falling. The best thing I’ve found so far is a partial hospital-style guard rail that attaches to the bed and covers about a third of the side. It’s strong enough that I can use it to brace and pull against to try to slide myself to the edge under some control and then pull myself up. [Available at Amazon as Bed Railing for Seniors for under $50) I also discovered that I’m better at handling surprises than I once thought I was. Surprise! 

I also know I can’t get too cocky. We stayed over at Anne’s sister’s house in Salem a week ago to visit with a niece from Phoenix who had come for a pre-holiday visit. When I crawled into the hide-a-bed’s spongy mattress and splashed down into the springs, it took a Herculean effort on both our parts to get me out of the bed. I found a nice La-Z-Boy recliner in the living room and wrapped in my blanket had a good night’s sleep. Surprise!

What am I most thankful for this Thanksgiving?

While the new house at Hope Village is a godsend with no stairs and a lovely community of neighbors, what I am most thankful for is much closer at home. Anne, my loving wife of 57 years is also a wizard of a caregiver. She is helpful when I need help and super helpful when I need help and don’t know it. There are too many ways she takes care me to mention, but mostly she tolerates my mood swings and deals with my new symptoms with calming serenity. She’s always been companion to my adventures—dogsled racing, backpacking, car racing, golf, foreign travels—and now nurse to my neurological needs. Anne, I love you more than I can tell you and need you more than I even know.

NEXT: An assignment for me to put together a photo essay of a small town between Thanksgiving and Christmas.