This is my sixth visit to Venice, but the first time I’ve been up the campanile (bell tower) of the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore, which sits on the small island directly in front of St Mark’s Square and the Doge’s Palace.
Wow, what an astonishing view!
In my opinion (and the opinion of many others), Venice is the most beautiful city in the world. The place is ridiculously photogenic. Stand virtually anywhere in the city and point your camera in any direction, and the chances are that you will have taken a good photo. Of a serene canal, or the rich blood red façade of an old palace, of elegantly crumbling brickwork, or a shop window full of carnival masks, or perhaps an ornate lamppost.
But if it’s a panoramic view you want, then the one from this particular bell tower tops them all: amazing Venice, formerly one of the wealthiest and most powerful states on the planet, laid out in all its glory in front of you.
Clara and I came here for a long weekend because Italy is one of the few countries not subject to quarantine on return to the UK. In these Covid-19 days it’s still possible to have a beach holiday or city break, but there’s little point in trying to plan ahead; last minute bookings are the way to go.
That said, Italy has been on the safe list for a while now. And you can see why the virus is under control here. A couple of times I forgot to put my mask on: when stepping onto a vaporetto (water bus) and when popping to the loo in a restaurant. On both occasions I was immediately scolded by eagle-eyed staff. People here just take it more seriously than in the UK, though it helps to have a government that issues clear, consistent guidance.
Whilst wandering the winding streets, we stopped several times to gaze at the reflections of terracotta and salmon coloured buildings in the canals. This (cue thinly veiled segue into discussion about Parkinson’s…) got me reflecting on my own situation now that nearly four years have passed since my first post about living with Parkinson’s.
So, here’s a sort of four-year status report.
- Athletic decline. I went out for a ten minute run this morning and probably
covered just over a mile, stopping only once. That’s about as much as I can
manage comfortably and is quite a decline from my last marathon in 2016. But
I feel pretty good about the fact that I can still run at all.
- Fine motor skills. These are a problem. Writing, typing, buttoning my shirt, opening bottles. All of them are difficult even when I am loaded up with levodopa. I took a tablet an hour ago and my hand still hurts typing this.
- Speech. Problems with my voice have started to come on in the last year or so. Most of the time it’s fine, but sometimes I am quiet and husky. Sometimes I fumble my words. It feels as though my mouth no longer does exactly what my brain wants it too.
- Fatigue. This is by far the biggest issue, and it’s in large part due to bad sleep. Sometimes I have nights where I only sleep for two or three hours, and I’m a train crash the next day. Even after a (relatively) good night’s sleep I normally need one or two powernaps in the afternoon.
- Drugs and addictions. I’m on relatively mild doses of a dopamine agonist (Pramipexole) and levodopa (Madopar) and these do make a big difference, enabling me to get through the work days. The downside is the addictive behaviour. Harmless things like playing a lot of online Scrabble, and mild at the moment, but one to keep an eye on as my doses inevitably increase.
- Other physical symptoms. These come and go, but include no sense of smell, constipation, occasional sharp pains, eyesight problems, general stiffness, tremor and involuntary twitching. Oh, and the expressionless face.
- Cognitive decline. This is a tricky one. I’m definitely slowing down, and both my short term and long-term memory are not as good as they used to be. But on balance I think the fuzziness in my head is a result of the fatigue and normal ageing, rather than some sort of clinical dementia.
- Work and play. Despite the above, I still work almost full time, go on holidays, do the gardening and clean the house every week. My driving licence has been renewed for another three years (though I no longer permit myself to drive for more than half an hour). I try to be a decent husband and father.
Overall, not so bad. But every day, every week, every month, a few more of my brain cells die. There is no cure, no respite, no stopping the relentless progression. Daily activities ever so slowly get harder. If I’m honest, I am a little afraid of what the future holds.
However, the good news
is that the campanile of the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore has a lift installed. So, even as my body declines, I
should still be able to gaze over amazing Venice on my next six visits.
