Parkinson's disease (A daughter's perspective)

I'd never ever given Parkinson's disease a thought except to feel mild pity for those who suffered with it whom I'd nursed on the ward where I worked. I'd watch them "shuffle" across to the bathroom, or down the ward, unable to swing their arms and walking in that peculiar shuffle.

I used to feel discomforted because when speaking to these people they seemed to stare at me unblinkingly with that awful mask like expression. I used to hate it because I could never gauge exactly how that person was feeling from looking at either his body language or his expression.

Then Parkinson's disease suddenly came to live with us. My father developed the disease, and suddenly a disease which had seemed so remote suddenly became frighteningly close.

Dad started with the tremors first, we all laughed and teased him and accused him of being a secret drinker. (He was teetotal). We put it down to age creeping up on him, and as it didn't seem to bother him too much, it didn't really bother us either. (It was later he told us it had bothered him very much, but he didn't want to worry us)!

When I look back on those early days of his illness, I often wonder whether I was in total denial or whether I genuinely didn't realise what his symptoms implied. (There's none as blind as those who refuse to see).

It was only after a few months when the tremors worsened and his speech began to slur did I realise what his problem could be. I remember having a flashback to those staring mask like faces and being really scared about what the future would hold not only for him, but also the rest of the family.

Dad went through various tests, and saw a specialist in neurological diseases who confirmed he was suffering from Parkinson's disease. I sat there in the doctor's office after the doctor told dad his diagnosis, blaming myself and thinking "if only I'd recognised the symptoms" etc could we have caught this earlier.

After we got home, the family had a chat about how we were going to help dad and each other get through Parkinson's disease. We decided to stop feeling sorry for ourselves, be more proactive and make dad's life as easy as possible without taking away his independence and mollycoddling him. (The doctor had told us this was the worst thing we could do).

One of the first things we needed to do was ensure he took his medication at exactly the right time. Parkinson's disease medication is prescribed very carefully and should be given at exactly the times stated to obtain the optimum effect. My mother took on this duty gladly. As she said, it helped her feel as if she was contributing to helping my dad retain his health as long as possible. It's been several months now since dad was diagnosed, and we do see a gradual decline in his condition, though not as bad as it could have been. We've been careful with his medication, and we've tried not to mollycoddle him too much, (though it's hard not to automatically do something for him when he's struggling).

We know what the future holds for him, but with good nursing care and the right attitude we are going to make his remaining years as productive and happy as we possibly can. After all that's all we can ask for.