When my father has a couple of good weeks, it means that he has had weeks where he has not been plagued by vivid disturbing dreams. Or that there have been only a couple of hallucinations or delusions.
These are the weeks when he walks more, talks more, is far more insightful and jokes and laughs with us. Though all this makes me happier, there is also the fear and dread that soon he will have a hallucination which will contrast dramatically with these couple of good weeks. The moment I begin to think this, I start to feel guilty.
I know that it is inevitable – soon there will be bad days. But I try to push those thoughts from my mind consciously, and try and look at only the one day, this day. This moment, when things are okay.
So dear world, you can huff and puff all you want. For now, I am only going to look at the bright side.
Let me tell you what happened on one of the ‘good’ mornings, during one of the early morning coffee rituals that I have with my father. He told me about his first trip overseas – when he was a speaker at a conference.
It was 1964. My father had been sent by the Government of India to present at a conference in Copenhagen; his area of expertise was small scale industries. At the end of his presentation (more like a speech) in front of his first international audience – he was greeted with a nice round of applause.
When he returned to his seat, a Nordic gentleman who had been sitting next to him said, “That was a very powerful speech, Mr. Murthi.”
My father smiled graciously, and replied, “Thank you,” feeling very proud.
That was until, the gentleman asked the next question:
“But, what did you really say?”
My father and I had a good laugh.
He told me how it was during the conference that he realised, that he needed to speak slowly in order to enable the interpreter to translate what he was saying.
Therefore, in preparation for the next conference – somewhere in Finland – he began to practise speaking slowly. During the course of this one, however, he spoke so slowly that the interpreter had to interrupt his speech to ask him to speak faster. Which he did.
His take?
You can prepare all you want. But eventually, something will happen which you are not prepared for, and you need to learn and change fast.
(After working in corporate India for over 29 years, Sangeeta has taken time off to look after her father, who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in 2008. Sangeeta hopes that these authentic stories will help patients and caregivers understand and appreciate the impact of Parkinson’s Disease. You can follow Sangeeta’s blog here.)
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Related Links in the Series
My Father’s Love of Sweet Things Knows No Bounds
Dealing with Disorientation: A Daughter’s Tale
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