“Verify you’re human,” read a message on my computer after I clicked a search result today, but no CAPTCHAs appeared; the small matter of my humanity was quickly and satisfactorily resolved by automated process and I was sent on my way. That my input wasn’t required was a wry reminder of, and apt metaphor for, the last few years of my life.
While Crankenstein was at a colleague’s (belated) Diwali celebration tonight, I was home with Muriel, preoccupied with swallowing difficulties — nothing new, just the same old stuff — and a looming neurology appointment. Before getting down to Botox business, my doctor will ask how I’ve been and I’ll want to answer, via my own automated process, “OK, and yourself?”
That would be less than truthful: I’ve been clumsy enough lately to have acquired several bruises of unknown provenance, one of them quite large. There was also a failure to properly dress myself prior to my last PT appointment, something that escaped not only my attention but Crankenstein’s.* We missed it both at home and in the car, and again as we said goodbye outside the PT building. I checked in at the front desk, sat in the waiting room, and was a minute or two into the appointment itself before realizing I hadn’t buttoned most of my shirt.
Whether I’m invisible enough that no one around me noticed, or maybe they were too timid to alert me to this fashion faux pas, I couldn’t say.** But I was mortified to have gone out like that, for no other reason than what it says about my distractibility or reduced faculties or whatever caused such a lapse. It was as uncharacteristic as forgetting about the mortgage or my car’s inspection and I’m still troubled by it almost two weeks later.
The question I have for my doctor is how do you distinguish between cognitive decline, apathy, and depression, all of which can happen with Parkinson’s? And if sleep deprivation is a factor, what can we try next to address it so we have a clearer picture of what’s going on? I’m sick of usually feeling like a fraction of myself.
* Most wives, present company included, notice when something’s amiss with their spouse’s appearance — I regularly fix Crankenstein’s collar and point out missed buttons or zippers before she leaves for work. But her inattentiveness is such that I could start wearing a giant Jack in the Box head and it might be days before she noticed.
** There was an unzipped jacket over my shirt that might’ve provided some cover.