HAPPY THANKSGIVING
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.
