Today we had the delight of a visit from my much better half’s son, his wife and their 10-and-a-bit-month old son. I’m not sure if that makes him my step-grandson or my grand-step-son but as Will Shakespeare said “a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet”. So whatever his exact title, he is utterly adorable, in spite of possessing a kind of sixth sense that leads him to find the most unsuitable object to investigate, usually by sticking it in his mouth!
Apart from that, thinking about it we have a lot in common.
He can’t walk yet but he can get around by holding onto the furniture. Some days I need to hold on to things to get about.
When he is on the floor he can find it hard to get up without help. Just like me. He needs to be dressed. Some days, when I’m at my worst so do I.
He sometimes finds it hard to swallow when he is eating and has to take a sip of water to help it down. Me too.
With typical contradictory symptoms he can drool large amounts, I often wake from a nap or a night’s sleep and find I’ve drooled. A lot. Having a wet shoulder is not nice at 5am
We both struggle to turn over in bed, meaning, in my case I sometimes end up trying to sleep in a ridiculously uncomfortable position whereas he might cry to attract attention so his Mummy or Daddy comes to his aid.
My Parkinson’s does have a few advantages and disadvantages.
On the plus side my total lack of a sense of smell means that I am blissfully unaware of his very smelly wind and even smellier nappies. My lack of manual dexterity that there is no chance of being asked to help with nappy changing. Feeding him would be a logistical nightmare, trying to get the spoon in my trembling hand to ‘dock’ with his mouth, positioned as it is on his fidgety head would have very long odds.
I just hope I’ll have enough voice to be heard when he is old enough to be read to, and enough energy and stamina to keep up with him. . .


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