Cleared to drive

Wednesday 24 May 2017

Breaking news – the DVLA have cleared me to drive again. 

But there’s a catch.  I have to return my licence within 14 days and have it replaced with a “medical review licence”.    

This is valid for three years, after which presumably I have to go through the whole process again of having my medical records checked and my consultant, er, consulted, in order to continue driving.  And of course, if something happens that impacts my ability to stay safe on the roads before three years are up, I am obliged to declare it.

After three years, I may be allowed to drive for another year, two years or three years, or no years at all.  So I probably need to get any driving holidays out of the way whilst I still can.  I am no longer allowed to drive a lorry or a minibus but I can certainly live with that. 

The letter from the DVLA included some information about driving with one eye: “….it may take 3 months or more for you to adapt to driving with one eye.  In particular your ability to judge distances may be affected…” and so on.

So, watch out South London, this bank holiday weekend, for the one-eyed wonder in his Honda Civic!

Driverless cars

Saturday 20 May 2017

An old friend of mine bought himself a Jaguar F-Type.

It’s black, does 0-60mph in an astonishing 3.5 seconds and has a maximum speed of 200mph.  There is just about room in the boot for a set of golf clubs.

I, on the other hand, drive a 13-year-old automatic Honda Civic, about the least stylish car you can imagine.  It probably does 0-60mph in 13 seconds. It’s blue. It’s literally an old man’s car, having been handed down to us from Clara’s dad.  I’ve been wanting to replace it for years but it just keeps going and I can’t justify spending the money on a new vehicle.

Or rather I used to drive it.  About a month ago I sent a declaration to the UK DVLA to inform them of both my vision problems and my Parkinson’s diagnosis.  They are taking a while to go through my medical records. I’m optimistic that I’ll be cleared to drive, but there is a chance I will never be allowed behind a steering wheel again.  In the meantime, I need to stay off the South London roads as, if I had an accident, my insurance would be invalid.

Although inconvenient at times, this is not as bad as it sounds.  I commute to work on public transport, travel long distances by train, and take an Uber for short journeys near home.  Nearly everything I need to buy in life can be delivered to my doorstep with a few mouse clicks.

Driving was getting difficult. Much of the time I didn’t feel great but the biggest problem was my eyesight.  My solution to this, which I understand to be perfectly legal, was to wear a pair of glasses that obscures the vision in one eye.  The loss of depth of field took a bit of getting used to, and must have looked weird to other drivers, but it was effective.

Hopefully once I have my eye surgery in June there will be no need for the special glasses and, DVLA pending, I will be able to drive as before, though I suspect my eyes will take a while to recover and adjust.

However, unlike my friend with his sports car, I no longer take any pleasure from driving anyway.  London roads are busy and carry plenty of aggressive drivers (including some Ubers…).  I used to be one of those aggressive drivers myself, but now I just want to get from A to B with minimal fuss.  Outside of London and on the motorways it seems to get ever more crowded as well.

I was looking into an all-electric car as my next vehicle, now that the range on a single charge is starting to make them more viable for journeys outside the city.

But maybe I will keep the Honda Civic even longer and hold out for the day when driverless cars are a reality.  As with any new technology, self-driving vehicles are going through their ups and downs as issues of safety and legality are navigated, but it seems just a matter of time before they become mainstream.

To me that would be the best solution of all: relaxing and enjoying the view whilst the machine takes care of all the stress. 

For a person with Parkinson’s, maybe that would be as gratifying as driving a Jaguar F-Type.

Drug dependency

Thursday 18 May 2017

I forgot to take my medication this morning.
I got up only five minutes late and in my rush to get ready for work I forgot to pop my little white pill.  I realised mid-morning in the office, half way into a two and half hour workshop, when I started to feel light headed.

I continued to feel a bit “out of it” most of the day then, at around 4pm decided it was time to go home to take my meds.  I feel better now though I am having a lot of difficulty typing this text; but I think that problem will subside quickly enough.

The reason this matters is because coming abruptly off a dopamine agonist can have serious effects including anxiety, panic attacks, depression and low blood pressure.  In other words, I’m probably addicted to my medicine.  There’s even an acronym for it: DAWS (Dopamine Agonist Withdrawal Syndrome). 

I resolve to be more careful in future: I will set a reminder on my phone and I will carry some spare tablets in my work bag.  I have enough to deal with already without a dose of DAWS.

Normalisation

Saturday 13 May 2017

I sit in the conservatory with the sliding doors open gazing at our small but quintessential suburban garden.

I write a piece of pretentious prose about what I see*.

There are few places more beautiful on the planet than an English garden in May with all its colour and exuberance.   It would be a bonus if I could smell it too, though my loss of olfaction is a minor inconvenience.

Staring at the garden is therapeutic and helps me reflect on my Parkinson’s journey to date and put things into perspective.

After getting correctly diagnosed, I started off with a certain amount of bravado that I could simply manage my way through it like a work project.

Then came the realisation of how difficult life was without medical attention.

Once medicated there were a series of highs and lows as my brain adjusted to the influx of chemicals.  And there were a similar set of highs and lows as I oscillated between hope and frustration amidst wider concerns about work and family.  Through all of this I am pleased that I have managed to avoid any significant depression and know I must stay positive.

A third of a year since I was diagnosed I now feel like I am entering into a period of normalisation.  For the most part I am able to manage my symptoms and lead a relatively normal life as long as I am careful.  I make a five-point plan of things I need to do each week to keep healthy.

  1. Plenty of sleep: in bed between 9:30 and 10pm
  2. Work from home one day a week when possible
  3. No more than one dinner out per week and a curfew of 8pm for after work drinks
  4. Maximum two units of alcohol per day
  5. Regular exercise: at least three times per week, and always use the stairs
I still have the problems with my eyes and some days I get tremors, stiffness, insomnia and fatigue but they are bearable. Over time my symptoms will worsen and my medication will need to be adjusted but for now things have stabilised.

My attention turns to the future.  Despite the beauty of spring in front of me I realise that am now into the autumn of my life, possibly with a harsh winter ahead.  I still have a decent chunk of time left but I need to use it well, perhaps starting by spending less time brooding over my disease. 

Now that I struggle to run even 5K, Clara says I need a new hobby to avoid slipping into a state of ennui. 

She is right. She is one of the smartest people I know and she is always right.  I love her for it.

Perhaps I should take up some serious gardening….

* The forget-me-nots that flowered for the first time this year form a sea of blue at the back of the neatly trimmed lawn.  The tulips I brought back from a work trip to Amsterdam rise handsomely from their pots: amber, purple, pink and crimson.  On either side of the lawn, the shrubs are bursting with the vitality of spring adding different hues of green and yellow along with white and mauve flowers. The jasmine on the trellis is similarly prolific.  The rose stalks rise high and the buds are swelling but they have yet to flower.

Surveying all of this is Tolstoy sitting proudly on his shed, under the shade of the sycamore tree which rustles softly in the gentle breeze.

Popular posts