Dad- a Clinic Day without PD Patients

My father used to be 5'10", now he's 5'6" or so. With my high heels on, I am as tall as he is. He's got that hunched over Parkinsonian posture. I tried to fix it by putting my shin near his spine and pulling his shoulders back. He shouted at me. I couldn't get him to extend his chest at all, his shoulders and pectorals have very little 'give'.

At home, he has a regular exercise routine, but the day I saw him he and his generation opted to eat dinner in the hotel restaurant, rather than walk the block and a half to the grill and microbrewery. When we did walk together, I took his arm, hoping that a little support would encourage a more spirited pace. Usually it failed, but at least he could hear me. He stops when he talks. I acquired the habit of either not talking, or monopolizing all the words, so we could continue moving.

Apathy comes. He is content to read the paper all day, drinking black coffee. I hear he does little housework and does not help with chores. When these things are pointed out, he shrugs his shoulders. My Dad has always favored well-cooked meat. At the hotel restaurant, he requested well- done bacon; it looked like jerky, he was delighted. He ate his bacon with dry toast- also well- done. I informed him the protein in the meat would affect how well his medications worked. He has never been science - oriented, he is an English and History teacher. I told him about neurotransmitters and how dopamine and proteins compete for the same sites, but I don't think he knew what I was saying, except that I thought the bacon was a bad choice.

Ages ago, I found a map of Wyoming or North Dakota with a town bearing our family surname. I showed it to him at the hotel breakfast.

"Yeah, I knew about that." He wasn't impressed.

On certain nights of the week when his wife works late, he cooks dinner. It can be a contentious event, apparently. Dad would not disclose what was for dinner on a recent night; he'd already had one argument about it. He likes meat and potatoes and tolerates a vegetable. How do the bowels of this man work? He lives primarily on bread and meat, and drinks no water, just black coffee during the day.

I am the delinquent one, the daughter who has never visited him, and he is nearing 78. At the end of our visit, I hug him and tell him I love him. He may have become apathetic, but he is teary to see his three daughters leave.

Hope is Hard to Kill

The patient hoped there was something in her a neurosurgeon could fix, to alleviate the tremor of her left hand. Unfortunately, she lived with several poorly aligned vertebrae in the cervical area and the doctor could see no reason on the MRI for a tremor. He wasn't the first physician to tell her this. Two neurosurgeons and a neurologist confided they saw no cause for tremor on the images of her brain and upper spinal column. Still hope is hard to kill. Clinically, the tremor she endured would be classified as mild, yet because it was her arm and hand, she conceived the movement as pronounced and problematic.
An older woman- she thought herself so, her birthday three years before the physician behind the desk, she suspected her tremor might be part of aging. The doctor assured her she was not old, and tremor is not a natural consequence of increasing age. He pointed with both hands to his head of dark hair shot through liberally with graying streaks, encouraging her to change her thinking on that matter.
With a Latin surname, a Florida speech pattern and the pale eyes and skin, I assumed she was a descendant of an original Florida family, but I was wrong. She still used the name of her former husband. Her manner so mild, I feared she would cry, outnumbered in the examination room by the clinical coordinator, the physician and myself.
The specialist recommended amantadine for the tremor, two pills a day- one at breakfast another at dinner or before bed. The drug has other properties as well as reducing tremor; it is anti- viral, so patients experience less flu and colds while taking it. While Azilect might stabilize symptoms, it is also an MAO inhibitor and possibly problematic, as one must avoid certain foods- aged meats, cheeses, and certain other drugs. He also strongly advised an antidepressant to lighten the cloud she carries over her head.
The MRI mages produced an unusual finding, a calcified meningioma: a very slow- growing tumor of tissue involving the tissue of the meninges. The doctor fished into the large envelope searching for a report to see what the radiologist concluded, and confirmed his own diagnosis. Women apparently have a greater quantity of such tumors.
Small, round, light splotches speckled the brain on the MRI. The doctor gave this a medical term, "leukoareosis". Apparently, leaky blood vessels in the brain show up on MRIs due to their excess fluid, a natural consequence of high blood pressure. They also, cannot be blamed for instigating the tremor of the left hand.