Loving the lockdown

Friday 8 May 2019

I suspect I’m going to regret saying this, but right now I’m loving the lockdown.

I do, of course, acknowledge I’m one of the lucky ones (with the caveat that we often make our own luck – see previous post Lucky or unlucky?). I still have a well-paid white-collar job, a job that I can perform reasonably well from the comfort of a spacious house, without any screaming young children running around.

The local Tesco stocks everything needed to sustain life. (It did run out of fresh raspberries and strawberries for a couple of weeks, but the grapes were still arriving from places like South Africa and Chile... phew!)

I live in a suburban area with wide streets, so going for a Sunday walk is better than it’s ever been, with barely any traffic either on the roads or overhead, great air quality, and the lovely scene of contented parents and children sharing family time together. Even the weather has been pretty good since social distancing measures were introduced back in March.

The main reason I love the lockdown is because it makes getting through the work day so much easier with Parkinson’s. Back in February and March, every day was a desperate battle with fatigue. The morning commute was exhausting in itself and by the time I was making the journey home often I could barely stand up. Many times I felt close to blacking out on the train platform in the evening.

Working from home, having virtual meetings through a screen all day, is also pretty tiring but I avoid two hours of travelling and, best of all, I can sneak off to the bedroom for a five-minute power nap whenever I feel the need, and nobody needs to know. I do this once or twice (occasionally three times) per day and it makes all the difference.

Obviously, there are disadvantages to living like this. Eating or drinking with friends has to be via video link, there are no holidays to look forward to, no shops to browse in, and I can’t visit my mum to give her a big hug. Home haircuts were a bit scary at first but are actually quite fun now.

And then there’s the strange phenomenon that the weeks really fly by when the daily routine is the same. To understand why, see previous post: The perception of time.

But I can live with all these things for a while. Perversely, my biggest concern is that this must, somehow, eventually come to an end. At which point I’ll need to return to the office, at least for two or three days a week. Now that I’m used the routine of working from home, the prospect of the struggle to get through days in the office is not one I’m looking forward to.

So, I resolve to make the most of the lockdown while it lasts. I appreciate many people are having a tough time right now. But, three years and counting since my diagnosis, for me personally, it was just the tonic I needed.

Oh, and it also helps avoid dying from covid-19.

Shall we FaceTime?

Wednesday 1 April 2020

“Shall we FaceTime?” I asked.

Rachel sounded surprised at my suggestion. I continued:

“It will be much better if we can see each other. You might even be able to do some clinical tests.”

After some faffing we managed to connect and we both spontaneously did that most human of things: we gave each other big smiles.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?” I concluded.

I had received a letter informing me that my six-monthly neurology appointment would be by phone because of the coronavirus. It had actually been a year since I had seen Rachel as, on my last visit, I had seen The Professor. Rachel is one of his research team, and seemingly the person looking at my family case.

The conversation was friendly enough but routine. I told her that I felt I could stay on the same medication, with the levodopa tablets giving me the flexibility I need with my Parkinson’s: although I am prescribed three tablets a day, I sometimes take just one or two and, at other times take four or even five depending on the ebb and flow of the condition. Rachel said this was fine, and that I should be guided by how I feel.

There was not much news about my genetic analysis. She said they ideally need DNA samples from more family members to help isolate the faulty gene(s). My mother (who has Parkinson’s) and her brother (who doesn’t have Parkinson’s) have both given samples, but I now need to encourage my sister (two years younger, no signs yet of Parkinson’s) to donate her DNA to medical science as well.

After a convivial half hour, we concluded with some basic clinical tests, primarily some simple finger tapping, which were actually quite effective over the phone camera. I will see her again in September. Perhaps in person, but I suspect by FaceTime again.

It’s surprising how we have all adjusted so quickly to the new normal of living in isolation and communicating via video links.  Like millions of other people, I now have a mini office set up at home and spend a good chunk of my working day talking to other people on a screen.

I’m really very fortunate: I still have a good job, I get to sit in the comfort of my own home all day, eat and drink well, exercise, and I am able take a rest whenever I need it. Clara and I are “staying safe”.

I find myself thinking about the million people across the world who now have a confirmed diagnosis of covid-19. They are also doing most of their communication via a screen and video camera.

Sadly, some of them won’t ever get to see their loved ones in the flesh again.

Flying first class

Thursday 13 February 2020

Today I am flying Emirates first class from Dubai to London.

It’s awesome. Some say it’s the best first class in the world but I wouldn’t know about that. This is probably the only time in my life I will fly first class on an airline like this.

The experience starts with the chauffeur whisking me smoothly to the airport in his S-class Merc. He drops me off at the separate check-in section without any queues at security, naturally.

I head to the first class lounge, a vast oasis of calm in an otherwise heaving airport, where the staff outnumber the passengers. I elect to have a la carte fine dining: delicious sashimi to start, veal saltimbocca for main, and a fruit and cheese plate to round it off. As expected, the wine is also excellent. I don’t bother with the spa or cigar room, but I do use the sleep area for a while after a glass of 15-year-old Glenfiddich.

Once on board, the beaming stewardess hands me a hefty goodie bag. Bulgari amenities, gourmet snacks galore, pyjamas for the overnight journey, slippers, moleskin notebook and pen.  She offers me a pre-take off drink. I don’t hesitate in my choice: a glass of Dom Perignon 2008 Champagne.

There’s a fresh orchid in my compartment. Enough gadgets for a James Bond movie and more bling than, well, an Emirati 5-star hotel room.  A screen as big as my TV at home, and so the list goes on.

How did I get here?

I’ve done a few business trips to the Middle East and saved up some miles. It turns out that that the Emirates loyalty scheme is not very generous. Surprisingly, BA’s Avios are much better for getting reward flights.

With my working days numbered, and business travel becoming increasingly exhausting, it made sense to use my Emirates points for an upgrade, rather than wait for a reward flight that will likely never come.

So I’m making the most of the absurd luxury while I still can. Things will start changing soon. I will need to cut back further at work, stop the travel, and retire in two or three years with a pension pot that will very much put me at the back of the plane, if indeed I’m on the plane at all.

We will be landing soon. Whilst I enjoy my scrambled eggs and cup of tea, I reflect on the best bit of my journey. 

Taking a morning shower at 41,000 feet. Obviously.