Start. Stop. Eyes Glaze Over. (How a Parkinson’s Patient Talks)

My conversations with my father have changed. Changed in tone and tenor. Mostly, ebbing away with no warning.

My conversations with my father have changed. Changed in content and context. Changed in tone and tenor. Mostly, ebbing away with no warning.

Our conversations have been impacted by the degradation of Anna's physical and mental abilities. His speech mimics his shuffle-walk of fits and starts, leading to conversations in short bursts. A meaningful conversation can take hours or days.

I call these "staccato conversations".

Here is a conversation I had on Monday.

I get to Anna's place after spending a day Ubering from one end of Gurgaon to the other in 37°C temperature.

I find Anna sitting on a single-seat sofa sipping tea from a cup held to his mouth by his attendant (nowadays Anna is finding it hard to pick up a mug). On a plate in front of him is a half eaten kodubale (lovingly made by my first cousin and sent specially for him).