I quietly closed the door, leaving the consultant neurologist's office and exited with the information I had desperately sought, but now wished I did not possess. I stumbled through the carpeted waiting room of the BUPA hospital with tearful eyes and gently whispered to Margaret."I've got Parkinson's Disease."
As we walked in silence to the car, I casually glanced at a pair of wood pigeons. The same pair had, 20 minutes previously, captivated my attention as I had gazed out of the waiting room window. The male still chased the hen through the branches of the chestnut tree, but I no longer found enjoyment watching their springtime frolics. My mind, in turmoil, was filled with fragments of medical terminology, words I did not understand but which were destined to become part of my future.
"What is Parkinson's Disease?" Margaret asked as we seated ourselves inside the red Mondeo.
"I don't really understand," I replied. "But the consultant said it is a neurological disorder, something to do with cells dying in the brain. He used words like degenerative, progressive, complex and mentioned a substance called dopamine. He said it is incurable."
"When you say incurable, what do you mean? There must be something they can give you for it, surely?"
"Don't know."
"But they have drugs for everything now, don't they? Did the consultant say anything about drugs?"
"Well, he did say that because he wasn't 100 per cent certain of the diagnosis he couldn't give me anything just yet. And I remember now: He said something about the drugs for Parkinson's... that they didn't cure the disease but only helped to alleviate the symptoms. I think that's what he said."
"When? Did he say when he'd be certain?"
"No. He just said I should see him again in a few months' time, I think."
"But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Carry on as normal, I suppose. Oh, I think he did say I should consider early retirement."
"So he must be fairly certain then?"
"Suppose so."
I wondered whether it is done out of kindness, a way of preparing you, in stages, for the bad news. Or is it simply, that at first, they are not sure? I must remember to ask on a future visit.
"What else did he say?"
"Can't remember."
"You must try. Did he mention work?"
"Yeah! He asked what I did, and I explained I operated heavy engineering machines, and he said to carry on as near normal as I can, while I can."
"Did he say what we can do to improve matters?"
"No. But let me think: He did say that nothing I had done in the past had caused it, or that anything I do in the future will affect it, or something like that, I don't know."
"Did he say what had caused it?"
"No."
When we arrived home I went straight to the pigeon-loft, to my many friends there. I went inside and sat among them, on a stool that I keep in the corner.
While I sat, the pigeons pecked at my clothing, pulled at my shoelaces and fought each other for the right to perch on my knee. I suppose to them, it was just another day.
With the loft-door closed behind me, I sat there, alone with my thoughts, and quietly I wept.
your comments
Karen Morris, Glamorgan
Never give up hope. I have the right attitude - BOLSHY - and I take a vitamin called Q10 (look it up on the internet and use your commonsense about dosage).
Wed Oct 29 08:42:04 2008
Arin Morris, Porthcawl, Glamorgan
If you look on the internet at the vitamin Q10 you will find that it helps Parkinsons. Also, the use of stone therapy - in this case opal - is said to help. When scared and desperate one tries anything within reason.
Tue Oct 28 10:25:12 2008
Sally Knights, Brighton, Sussex
Just wanted to thank Howard for sharing his story, I am also a muture student studying for a BA in social work. Howard sharing his experience has helped me understand more, the individual and personal journey people undertake when discovering they have Parkinson's and not just seeing the disease.
Fri Oct 17 08:56:08 2008
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