Thursday 16 December 2021
I don’t really like Christmas any more.
Writing cards, going
shopping, wrapping presents, decorating the tree… all of them are, frankly, a
pain in the neck, or, more literally, a pain in the hands. Everyday activities
like getting dressed or grocery shopping are getting harder as it is without
this burden of extra tasks requiring fine motor control.
I went to see my mother yesterday for a pre-Christmas gift-and-card-swapping visit and it was almost comical: mother and son, both with Parkinson’s, sitting on the floor trying to wrap a present for one of my brothers. We both fumbled for ages finding the end of the Sellotape, but eventually got a sort of system going. With trembling hands, she slowly folded the paper whilst I managed to stick the tape onto everything except the paper, and then eventually onto the paper itself. The end result wasn’t too bad but I have the distinct opinion that next year I need to be smarter: e-cards, or gift-wrapping services, or printed address labels or something. After all, it will only be harder in twelve months’ time.
We went for a short “walk” (shuffle might be a better word) near the house and played two games of scrabble and of course I gave her a back massage. It still amazes me how someone so thin and frail can have back muscles as hard as plywood. We even had a Parky power nap together – lying comatose side-by-side on the double bed in the spare room for ten minutes.
Despite our shared challenges, it was joyous to spend a few hours with her. As I departed into the cold darkness, I resolved to make the 7-8 hour round trip more often. She is lonely and craves human interaction, but she is also very much settled in her home and not keen to move, so I, and my siblings, need to travel to her.
When I returned home I looked at the pile of cards waiting to be written. It's sorely tempting to simply not bother.
Bah humbug. Yep, I no
longer like Christmas.
