Tuesday 16 May 2023
“FUCK!” I shouted, loud enough for the neighbours several
doors away to hear.
The IKEA wardrobe I had been struggling to assemble for the
last hour collapsed and a heavy plank gave me a hefty whack on the head on its
way down. My immediate concern was concussion. I was a bit dazed and concerned
about my brain and any possible swelling that might result. That was until I
noticed the blood dripping onto my T shirt and trousers. “Fuck,” I said again,
this time much more quietly. I called to Clare for help.
She cleaned me up in the bathroom and made me a cup of tea.
I sat in the kitchen recovering after the bleeding had stopped, I had a cut on
my scalp but thankfully no signs of anything else other than a bruised ego.
Clare suggested I enjoy the rest of my Sunday afternoon and look into getting a
flat pack man to help. After all, I have Parkinson’s, and that is not
particularly compatible with constructing heavy bedroom furniture.
That night, I lay awake for hours, partly because of the
sore head, but also because I was playing through in my mind what had gone
wrong (the space I was trying to build the wardrobe in was too small), how I
could salvage the broken pieces, and how I could rebuild successfully.
After Clare left for work on Monday morning, what I should
have done was ordered replacements for the broken parts then hired someone to
build it for me. But I decided to have one last go myself.
My strategy involved rebuilding the frame, which was a
sizeable 2.36 metres high and 1 metre wide, on the bed using quite a bit of
duct tape, then nail on the back board, then execute a precarious pivot off the
side of the bed onto the floor, whilst avoiding smashing windows or ceiling
lights. I loaded up with levodopa in preparation and waited for the drugs to
kick in.
The first two or three attempts resulted in more collapses
and frustration. I decided to have “one last go”. Miraculously, this time the
structure held firm long enough for me to secure the backboard into position.
Now for the tricky pivot onto the floor… this wasn’t easy but remarkably it
worked and I then shuffled the unit into position. I had a second, undamaged,
frame to construct in the same way and, having done it once, this was pretty
straightforward. More levodopa followed by a couple of hours of fitting
shelves, doors and handles; and drilling holes in walls to secure the furniture
in position. The end result looked great.
I reflected on the saga of the wardrobe: with Parkinson’s
you can often still do a lot but you have to be smart about how you do it and
be well prepared. Medication, adaptation, and perseverance will often pay off
in the end. But trying to pretend that you don’t have Parkinson’s can end in
disaster.
