There are some really minute things that change with Parkinson’s disease. Many are really small and when those show up my immediate thought is, when did that become different.
Wash cloths in the shower, for example, have changed in number. In our old house after the kiddos moved out and started their lives and families, after we became empty nesters, we each had our own bathroom that we used. Upstairs is for her. Downstairs is for him and visitors. (How come I had to share my bathroom? — different question.)
There are some funny aspects to this. Cheryl has her mother’s knees and they were starting to give out along life’s way. The doctor told her that if you have a choice of stairs or the elevator pick the elevator or escalator. No kneeling in church either. Cheryl told the doctor, our bedroom is upstairs. He replied when you come down for the day stay down.
Over time I moved the guest bedroom upstairs to what was the boys bedroom. The guest bedroom downstairs I converted into her office and sewing room. I took over her old office area as mine upstairs adjacent to the upstairs bathroom far from the coffee but what the heck I didn’t used to have an office. I was a basement guy. In my male mind all was well. But her bathroom was upstairs. (smiley face) And although she spent a lot of time in her office sewing room she would go upstairs to the bathroom when that need arose. She rarely used the downstairs bathroom.
Cheryl and I have been married for more than fifty years and although I cannot point to the specific date when we started some particular habit, we started it somewhere in our lives. Thinking back we have known each other longer and I have lived with her longer than anyone else in our sphere and that includes her family and mine. A lot of habits and some traditions have been started and rejected along the way. Several years ago we mutually decided that it was time for a smaller flatter place. Between her knees and the parkieness our life was changing. We bought a condominium all on the same level. It has two bathrooms but the one next to the big bedroom has a swell walk-in shower. She hung one washcloth for her and one for me in the shower area. Done. We are moved in.
Why am I stuck on washcloths? I really do not know but there it is this morning while I am taking my shower; there are now three washcloths hanging in the shower. When did that change?
Sometimes I want to become angry. Sometimes I want to laugh. Sometimes I want to cry.
Parkinson’s disease and PD with the added feature of Lewy body dementia is puzzling and it consumes a lot of hours for the care partner.
The washcloth thing is merely one of many.