One of the many complications post the surgery at Pune was a right wrist drop. Over time, Appa improved to a condition where he was able to once again control his sugar levels, move around on his own and make meaningful conversation. But the problem of his right wrist having completely dropped remained. We took him back to Pune for a last visit post the surgery. The quack coolly dismissed it as one of the unfortunate after effects of what was essentially a successful surgery. He was impressed that the two holes that were drilled in Appa's skull were not overtly visible because of his skill and technique. They shot a video of Appa climbing the stairs up and down by himself (he was on a high dosage of Syndopa at the time) and blamed us for the blood sugar fluctuations. We exhibited our traditional softness of character and quietly made our way back to Hyderabad.
Now followed a period between Appa and me where I was able to understand him like I had never before. I started taking him for physiotherapy sessions so we could rectify his wrist drop. We would go every morning at 11:00 a.m. for a 45 minutes session at Sweekar which was close to home. I had started visiting the gym regularly and knew a thing or two about the physiology of the body having to do many exercises myself at the time. I was a strict task master, cajoling, shouting, asserting myself at various times as we moved through his set of exercises every day. We had a splint for the wrist made for him and he gradually recovered to the point where he was able to go for a walk downstairs all by himself. The walk, of course, would have its own stops and starts, he would be rigid but he did recover to the point where he was able to perform many tasks on his own. His hallucinations reduced to only being prevalent during the night time. One of the last times that we walked together was when we went out on to the road and walked a little bit there. He did not enjoy it much - he was tense but I was glad that we were able to progress till that stage.
This period continued for 6 months while I was able to help him as much as I could. It was soon time for me to leave for my studies at the United States and I took off in December after my cousin had come over for his official stint at Hyderabad. As a result, I did not feel too bad about not being there since he could cover for some of the things that I was helping with. Maybe not as much with Appa as with Amma, perhaps.
Over the next few months, Appa started going to the office of one of his old colleagues from his office who had started a company of their own. A car would arrive in the morning to take him to work and back - he would be present there for not more than 2 hours. As usual, he was reticent about his work there and we suspected that there wasn't much that he was doing there. Over time, he would renege to falling asleep after bath and breakfast, at around 10:00 a.m. It was basically down to the largess of his old friends that they continued to deposit a "salary" into his account for his visits to their offices. To Appa's immense credit, he went to their office for a period of 4-5 years after the surgery. On some days, it would be surprising to us that he managed to still go and return but after a fall or two on his way to work in 2006/7, he stopped.
He stopped going to office and slowly, a fall or two while walking in the basement after dinner ensured that walks that were frequent also ground to a halt. As the days, months and years passed, he would have his ups and downs. He continued to have a distinctly ON period after breakfast every morning when he was able to go to the bathroom by himself.
Appa has always been short tempered and the disease is truly one of a kind. Of course, every disease seems like the worst to those suffering it but PD has got to be up there in that list. It exposes the patient in every aspect possible. It brings out your darkest side to be laid open for others to see. Appa belongs to a generation where the boy child was the apple of the eye for his family and the spouse was entrusted with the care and upkeep of the house and the kids while he would be the bread winner. He never confided his thoughts to anyone in the house - keeping his work pressures and tensions to himself and being very quiet most of the time. A a result, we never really understood the man behind the figure of a father. He never really learnt to express himself or his thoughts to anyone. But the disease doesn't care. The medications don't care. Some of his shortfalls such as a tendency to be lazy, a tendency to depend on others and expect others to respond to his weakness in a positive way, his extremely short temper have all been brought out in excruciating detail. Some of these traits are masked by us in our younger days as we learn to be more mature and take things in our stride. With PD, you are completely exposed. Everyone around can see you suffering and wonder what is wrong.
Over the years, all of us would insist on him exercising more frequently, tell him to not lose hope. He was a voracious reader - he would read books and had a genuine interest in Hollywood movies and cricket. He started to fall more frequently while trying to get up from the chair or while walking. His sense of balance started to desert him along with an onset of continence. Even till 2008/09, he was able to walk by himself at times when the need arose. He was never a social person and going out to visit some relatives sometimes proved to be an ordeal too big to overcome for him. His tremors would increase and his rigidity would take over. After experimenting with a walking stick to give him some balance for a few years starting 2005/6, we bought a wheelchair for him in 2009. If nothing else, it was to help take him out a little more frequently. It was simply not worth the trauma for him or for us as caregivers to have him undergo the scrutiny of a thousand eyes of people looking at him as he struggled to take a step.
Days move into months, months into years - they were numbers for him as he turned 60. An age when his classmates would retire saw him on a wheelchair struggling to make conversation. At times, we look wistfully at some 70+ year olds walking around, traveling on their own, being independent. If we, as his children, realize it once in a while, we can only imagine the thoughts that run through his head. What must be going through his mind?
Now followed a period between Appa and me where I was able to understand him like I had never before. I started taking him for physiotherapy sessions so we could rectify his wrist drop. We would go every morning at 11:00 a.m. for a 45 minutes session at Sweekar which was close to home. I had started visiting the gym regularly and knew a thing or two about the physiology of the body having to do many exercises myself at the time. I was a strict task master, cajoling, shouting, asserting myself at various times as we moved through his set of exercises every day. We had a splint for the wrist made for him and he gradually recovered to the point where he was able to go for a walk downstairs all by himself. The walk, of course, would have its own stops and starts, he would be rigid but he did recover to the point where he was able to perform many tasks on his own. His hallucinations reduced to only being prevalent during the night time. One of the last times that we walked together was when we went out on to the road and walked a little bit there. He did not enjoy it much - he was tense but I was glad that we were able to progress till that stage.
This period continued for 6 months while I was able to help him as much as I could. It was soon time for me to leave for my studies at the United States and I took off in December after my cousin had come over for his official stint at Hyderabad. As a result, I did not feel too bad about not being there since he could cover for some of the things that I was helping with. Maybe not as much with Appa as with Amma, perhaps.
Over the next few months, Appa started going to the office of one of his old colleagues from his office who had started a company of their own. A car would arrive in the morning to take him to work and back - he would be present there for not more than 2 hours. As usual, he was reticent about his work there and we suspected that there wasn't much that he was doing there. Over time, he would renege to falling asleep after bath and breakfast, at around 10:00 a.m. It was basically down to the largess of his old friends that they continued to deposit a "salary" into his account for his visits to their offices. To Appa's immense credit, he went to their office for a period of 4-5 years after the surgery. On some days, it would be surprising to us that he managed to still go and return but after a fall or two on his way to work in 2006/7, he stopped.
He stopped going to office and slowly, a fall or two while walking in the basement after dinner ensured that walks that were frequent also ground to a halt. As the days, months and years passed, he would have his ups and downs. He continued to have a distinctly ON period after breakfast every morning when he was able to go to the bathroom by himself.
Appa has always been short tempered and the disease is truly one of a kind. Of course, every disease seems like the worst to those suffering it but PD has got to be up there in that list. It exposes the patient in every aspect possible. It brings out your darkest side to be laid open for others to see. Appa belongs to a generation where the boy child was the apple of the eye for his family and the spouse was entrusted with the care and upkeep of the house and the kids while he would be the bread winner. He never confided his thoughts to anyone in the house - keeping his work pressures and tensions to himself and being very quiet most of the time. A a result, we never really understood the man behind the figure of a father. He never really learnt to express himself or his thoughts to anyone. But the disease doesn't care. The medications don't care. Some of his shortfalls such as a tendency to be lazy, a tendency to depend on others and expect others to respond to his weakness in a positive way, his extremely short temper have all been brought out in excruciating detail. Some of these traits are masked by us in our younger days as we learn to be more mature and take things in our stride. With PD, you are completely exposed. Everyone around can see you suffering and wonder what is wrong.
Over the years, all of us would insist on him exercising more frequently, tell him to not lose hope. He was a voracious reader - he would read books and had a genuine interest in Hollywood movies and cricket. He started to fall more frequently while trying to get up from the chair or while walking. His sense of balance started to desert him along with an onset of continence. Even till 2008/09, he was able to walk by himself at times when the need arose. He was never a social person and going out to visit some relatives sometimes proved to be an ordeal too big to overcome for him. His tremors would increase and his rigidity would take over. After experimenting with a walking stick to give him some balance for a few years starting 2005/6, we bought a wheelchair for him in 2009. If nothing else, it was to help take him out a little more frequently. It was simply not worth the trauma for him or for us as caregivers to have him undergo the scrutiny of a thousand eyes of people looking at him as he struggled to take a step.
Days move into months, months into years - they were numbers for him as he turned 60. An age when his classmates would retire saw him on a wheelchair struggling to make conversation. At times, we look wistfully at some 70+ year olds walking around, traveling on their own, being independent. If we, as his children, realize it once in a while, we can only imagine the thoughts that run through his head. What must be going through his mind?
No comments:
Post a Comment