Things I dislike about having Parkinson’s
#3 in a series of many
Not being able to help with the washing up
At this moment you’re probably thinking ‘weirdo’. Just let me explain.
A long, long time ago I can still remember an Andy Capp comic strip, drawn by Reg Smythe. In the first frame he was speaking to a newlywed husband, offering him advice, which we saw as ‘whisper whisper’. Next we saw the newlyweds at the kitchen sink doing the washing up, the woman washing, the man drying. Behind her back he deliberately dropped a plate, saying ‘oops’. The woman does her nut; ‘you clumsy oaf, that was part of the set that Great-Aunt Maude gave us as a wedding present , just leave it to me in future! In the final frame has the husband lounging on the sofa, glass of beer in hand while thinking ‘Cheers Andy’.
Twice recently I have been removed from my drying up duties as my Parkinson’s has chosen that moment to turn off my fine motor skills. Each plate risks being smashed as I try to convince my fingers to cooperate; having opposable thumbs is not much use when your fingers won’t move. Cups seem to cower, plates try pointlessly to hide behind glasses, you can almost sense the panic on the draining board.
‘You ok there?’ My much better half asks, as she has finished the washing up and put away the few things I have dried.
‘Yes.’ I lie.
More time passes.
There are glaciers moving more quickly than me.
I admit defeat.
‘Go and have a sit down, I’ll finish off.’
Disappointed I go and lounge on the sofa.
Now don’t get the wrong idea, I dislike doing the washing up as much as the next man or woman. It is an Irksome task. Nor does the sight of my much better half, slipping on her yellow marigolds (other brands are available) do anything special for me.
It is the loss of another small battle that irks me.