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Jerry Hurley - Kerry
I am convinced that humour and optimism (however irrational) are hugely beneficial.'
I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2007 when I was 62. It was a relief. That may sound strange but it confirmed that I didn’t have Motor Neuron Disease and that my symptoms were not imagined – nor were they due to wear and tear and to scarring from spine surgery 7 years previously. Was the effect of the news a major shock? I don’t believe so. My previous medical problems – including colon cancer, prostate cancer, Crohn’s Disease, Osteoporosis, had probably left me with shock fatigue. Also, in delivering the diagnosis, the Neurologist was realistic but reassuring: while there was no cure currently and the disease was progressive, there was medication for symptoms and research into the condition was on-going. Another plus: people didn’t usually die of the disease, they died with it.
I had retired early, on health grounds, in 1999 with plans to spend more time in stress-reducing pursuits like hill-walking but had to revise the plans to accommodate more surgery and more hospital treatment. I was able to do some voluntary work which I thoroughly enjoyed. The activity which gave me most satisfaction was volunteering as a Literacy Tutor with the local Adult Learning Centre. Over the years I have had a great variety of learners, each with his own personality and talent. I certainly gained as much from the experience as they did.
Fast-forward to sometime in, maybe, 2006 when I was trekking in the Hag’s Glen on the way to the North face of Carrantuohill in an effort at making a return to the mountains. On a dodgy part of the track with a steepish drop on my left I distinctly felt my left foot not obeying an instruction from my brain. I had the sense to turn around. The truth is: I knew then. Not the name, nor the full import but the disconnect between head and foot was so glaring it had to signify a major malfunction. As time went on the various chores like shaving took longer and longer and my balance became problematic. The final straw was when my left leg stopped working when I was swimming. I did not have a tremor and still don’t. And so back to the professionals and in due course the verdict: Parkinson’s. And no, it was not really a surprise; especially as my wife had already identified and named the problem. She had observed my symptoms and had put two and two together.
So now I have added the Parkinson’s medication to the nostrums for my other frailties. I have invested in a largeish compartmentalised pillbox. It is a godsend. It takes me half an hour to stock it for the week but it ensures that I have some means of knowing whether I took a particular pill.
No doubt my way of coping with Parkinson’s is very much influenced by the experience with my other health problems except that I tend now to live in the present. I walk and I swim – not nearly as much as I should and I indulge my interest in music, in films, in books and in computers and related items. I do a little DIY and most importantly, engage with my robust and ultra-lively l0 month old grandson. I enjoy the challenge of fixing things, even with clumsy hands. I have a fascination for gadgets and can waste hours on a computer. One sure-fire way of picking up the spirits is to put on a favourite piece of music, just slightly too loud and let it lift you. I have a collection of March tunes on disc and you would have to be stone-deaf not to respond to the stirring notes of Old Comrades or the majestic strident brassy blare of Verdi’s Grand March.
I can see how people with the disease could become withdrawn and reclusive; it can take a considerable effort sometimes to get motivated to go out to do something in the community. I value my weekly lunch with my former Rotarian colleagues, and the contact with my companions in the Leisure Centre, in the Book Club, local Film Society and of course in our North Kerry Branch of the Parkinson’s Association. I am convinced that humour and optimism (however irrational) are hugely beneficial.
