Chapter 244 - Hot Stuff

A day up to the humid Big Smoke yesterday for the birthday of our youngest descendant. She had hesitated to book a motel for Sunday night, something we had decided to plan to do on such trips, partly in order to have more family contact once other family members (on the out-law side) had gone home, but this time she was not keen to be away from home, me thinking the worth of spending $100 or so on accommodation. On the way yesterday morning we stocked up with a selection of cheeses as our contribution and a pack of the horrid drug filled bilge that I find brings me alert whenever my driving concentration falters. As things turned out, I needed none going or returning.

I find participation most difficult in these family gatherings. I have often likened my experience to that of the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", although in our case there are no other cultural influences involved - simply too much short term chatter at cross purposes around the table, too many "in family" jokes & references with which we have little knowledge, even after some 17 or so years. And my hearing in a hollow house does not help me, although I don't know about her.

Anyway, sitting back, un-involved in conversation, I was able to observe the body actions of those around the table. She was wobbling, weaving her head & shoulders, some hand tremor while seven other adults and several teenagers were pillars of stone by comparison. There were some comments  when she switched on her small personal battery powered fan as her face dripped perspiration, someone mentioned air conditioning but that was not acted upon, I think I heard a snippet of the usual female comment about "hot flushes" yet the conversation changed before I could react. Partly due to my tipping over a mug of tea to look like an incontinent old fart.

Middle aged women, and beyond, always take a self interest in describing their change of life crises whenever they see her dripping sweat. When a male chips in, to point out that in her case she instead has an autonomic issue caused by PD, he is treated condescendingly as not knowing what he is talking about. At her age, with a hysterectomy half a life time ago, the cause of her discomfort has nothing in common with their memories of their female condition.

Fortunately, we live in a cool, dry climate. At least one benefit of living some distance from many of the advantages of city life. Even so, we have fans in various positions about the house for her to switch on as she needs. The fan in the bedroom has a remote control so she can operate it while still in bed, covered by the bed clothes. After all, she does not wish to feel cold at 5AM. That is the strange thing she sweats, not because she is hot, not due to physical activity, she just sweats, especially when her meds are "off". Stress, as when she is manipulating pieces of fabric for patch work, also encourages sweating. Lately, her hair looks as if she has just stepped out of the shower. She often has difficulty pulling on her night dress when it rolls and sticks across her shoulder blades and she often calls for help to untangle herself. One evening she came out here to my dungeon, asked me to touch the shoulders of her blouse and my fingers came away as if dipped in water, the water content of her blouse was so high. Irrespective of feeling hot or cold, she sweats. I am concerned that other autonomic functions may eventually be impacted by the PD condition.

Her utterances during sleep, although less frequently or perhaps I am sleeping more soundly, have become clearer so I am able to understand the words. Early one morning recently she yelled out "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" I remained awake listening for more until I dozed off again.

Chapter 243 - Postponed Posts

Once I used to post here weekly, hardly ever these days, nothing to write about I tell myself, perhaps I'm just bored, although nothing momentous or frightening has occurred. I make mental notes "mention that in the Blog" then by day's end I forget. Also, I used to get up early on Sundays to post while she still slept, but now she tends to rise before me, while I snooze, listen to RN on the on-line connected T-hub, recovering from reading an eBook into the small hours.

Then again, she seems not to have so many problems lately. Her pains I measure by the amount of Ice-Gel she rubs (or has me apply - yucky mentholated stuff) to her lower back, shoulders or calves. This morning, her legs on the floor, seated on her bed, she rocked back & forth attempting to gain sufficient momentum to rise sufficiently to grasp the handles of her walker, I asked "Are you having problems Dear?" as she accomplished her task, pushing the walker towards the door "My back hurts." "The new mattress overlay isn't helping?" "It helps a bit" she says as she shuffles through the doorway. About a month ago she forwarded some junk mail from our ISP advertising a good plonk offer which I was not interested in, yet noticed a discount offer for a mattress overlay full of "micro balls" (or somesuch psuedo techo waffle) that I encouraged her to buy. She seems to be happy with its effect. All our efforts at sleep comfort for her "work" initially, like a sugar pill.

She travels around the house, stooped, pushing her walker in front. Outside, her back straightens, her stride increases, she experiences freedom. A few days ago she attempted to take a number of her meds whilst standing. Stooped and standing, she tilted her head back attempting to have water flow from her re-cycled plastic water bottle (she has a stock of them, always a partially filled one with her) and as she sat she said "I just can't take pills standing up, I have to sit down."

I think I previously mentioned that when she told the Day Respite people she didn't wish to attend on Fridays that they talked her into Tuesdays? The fewer numbers present on that day seem to suit her, also, they re-arranged the room of clutter so she thinks she has more space. Tomorrow, there is a bus outing in which she will not participate, remaining at the Centre with others who "don't like getting in & out of the bus either." She seems to be taking on a role of un-official crafts demonstrator, each week taking a plastic bag of sewn items for showing or completion. A zip bag of pin cushions, in the shape of hats (using our old CD/DVD's as brims, suitably covered, plus other nick-nacks will be taken to grace an upcoming craft stall at a fete.

I watch her pinning, hand sewing, machine sewing, gluing, cutting pieces of fabric, cardboard etc. and am amazed that her efforts turn out so well, while her head moves sideways, back & forth as if she is taking a better view of what her hands are doing (I know that is not the case) and as she is seated each foot, in turn, steps forward then back, at a regular pace, maybe every 5-10 seconds. She will be lost should she ever be unable to steadily hold small items.

I broached the subject of my attending a lecture down in Hot Air City, at night, in the near future. That would mean an hour's drive each way. Her reaction was quite neutral. I won't go.

She told me as we drove to see our sick friend in a southern town that she is always having hallucinations while we are driving, although she has largely learned to disregard them. I imagine these to be light flashes, shadows perhaps, that her mind interprets as moving objects. Coupled with her active imagination about life's dangers must make life very stressful for her.

We saw "The Iron Lady" last evening (from the very front row where she was not confined) then our regular super market shopping, she pushing, I pulling, the trolley. Quite often she is unable to tolerate standing stationary in a queue, needing to pass through a check-out to a seat outside. Even though pill time was approaching, a seat was not needed last night.