I get knocked down…

… but I get up again. I took a tumble on holiday. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but I’m still in one piece and raring to go. Here’s how I might improve things next time.

At the beginning of September, we had a lovely holiday walking in Austria. To be fair, the cable cars did most of the heavy lifting so that we could meander along gently undulating Alpine trails. But one day we bit off more than we could chew, with a route that included a long, rocky, rooty descent. Now I have had my First Big Fall. No bones broken, but a huge bruise on my arm and I twisted my spectacle frames.

It wasn’t what I was expecting! Regular readers will know that I have worked long and hard with those lovely people at Neuro Heroes to address ‘The Wobble’ and prevent slips and trips. Their rigorous balance exercises challenge my visual, vestibular and proprioceptive systems.  I’m sure they helped me stay upright everywhere else on the holiday – travelators, aeroplane steps, changes of surface, getting on and off buses, wet pavements. And people, lots of people, barging into me from all directions. All of them hazards that are just as likely to leap out and trip up people without Parkinson’s if they aren’t paying attention.

Dopa-deficit

No, this was different. This was me going into real dopa-deficit. I’d taken all my meds on time, including a supplementary rapid-release tablet that I keep for emergencies (like Paddington and his marmalade sandwiches).  Stupidly – because my heart and lungs were feeling really good – I thought I could push on through an ’off’ period in the early afternoon. (’Off’ is when the last dose of meds has worn off and the next lot hasn’t kicked in.) I ground to a halt with both feet and both poles firmly planted. I sank into a slow and graceful squat (thank-you, quads!) before my top half keeled over and hit the bank with a thud. We were still some distance from the gondola station, and it was a real struggle to get back.

Now I know what it feels like to be REALLY Parkie, and what some people live with every day. It is not something I care to repeat any time soon. I’m happy to say I hit the reset button with a good night’s sleep and a new round of meds and managed two more lovely days of walking with no ill effects.

No repeats

Where did I go wrong? How can I prevent it happening again? What have I learned that might be helpful for you?

I got too cocky. I spent a big part of August meeting up with friends from Penrith, my old home town. I bathed in the warm glow of people telling me that I looked better than I did when I left two years ago. My neurologist struggled to see any external motor symptoms and told my GP I was doing ‘fantastically well’. I knitted all this feedback into an invincibility cloak, which was light and easy to pack. I felt fit and ready. Pride does, indeed, go before a fall.

We got too ambitious. With a good weather forecast for the week, we shelled out on a six-day lift pass. It was pricey, but considerably cheaper in the summer than for winter sports. We had a fabulous choice of trails and naturally we wanted to make the best use of this pass that we could. We had three glorious, gentle walks in the sunshine and then Wednesday dawned a little bit greyer. We ventured out anyway. Looking back, we could still have gone up the mountain for coffee and cake without any great exertion.

I didn’t plan my days properly. In the old days, climbing Lakeland fells like Helvellyn, it would be a snack half-way up, sandwich lunch at the top and snack half-way down. Now I need to juggle timing meds and meal ‘windows’ much more carefully to make better use of my ‘on’ time. I need to stay hydrated without wanting a comfort stop every half hour, and allow enough time to relax and enjoy the hospitality of the mountain huts and their clean, five-star luxury facilities.

There was too much downhill.  Even before I knew I had Parkinson’s I was struggling with descents. Every step is a brain-mangling risk assessment. In the Lake District, my companions would be hoppity-skipping down in eager anticipation of a pint and a pie at the Old Dungeon Ghyll before closing time, while I was still pussyfooting gingerly around Stickle Tarn. Waiting for me was no fun for me or for them.

 ‘Gentle’ and ‘moderate’ are subjective! Other people’s experience of a trail, published in a guidebook or online, may be completely different from mine – in future, I’ll take them with a pinch of salt.

Onwards and upwards

We’re already planning our next alpine holiday. So it can’t have been that bad. But I must be easier on myself! We have 11 months to get it right. In the meantime, I’ll still be working on those balance exercises. Oh, and maybe I’ll leave the invincibility cloak at home next time.

Play > Tubthumping (I get knocked down) > Chumbawamba