Snake Oil Peddlers and other things
The world is full of snake oil salesmen, some of them trying to Govern a country, and some of them sell Parkinson's cures. Try Googling ‘cured of Parkinson’s’ and you will bring up a long list of bogus claims. The peddlers of these claims are willing to give you the secret of their success, for a reasonable fee. Just to cover expenses, obviously.
Of course, those making the promises of a cure, have neither the capability nor intention of keeping them. After all, there isn't a cure, as yet it does not exist. These snake oil salesmen are taking advantage of people who are often scared or desperate or both.
And of course, we live in an era of ‘fake news’ driven by social media and the internet. The result of this, incredibly, is that a large section of the population will place more faith in the writer of a blog, entitled “Tin Hats R US”, peddling the numerous conspiracy theories by a certain David Icke than they are willing to place in a properly educated, subject specialists, with a PHD and years of research, who actually know what they are talking about.
Snake oil peddlers love these people.
However just because the promise of a cure is still an unknown number of years down the line, it doesn’t mean that there aren't steps that can be taken to slow progression and keep up a decent quality of life for a longer period of time.
It has been clear for some time that exercise helps relieve some of the symptoms associated with the condition. However, what was not clear was whether exercise did more than that. increasingly there is strengthening evidence, demonstrated by a number of studies that intense exercise can noticeably slow the progression of Parkinson's.
At least for a while.
You will have noticed the word ‘intense’. A nice, occasional 20-minute amble, pausing to regularly enjoy the beauty of the surrounding countryside doesn’t cut it. You need to exercise at least three times per week and better still 4 to 6 times a week, for a period of 40 minutes each time, with the intention of getting your heart rate operating at between 80 to 85 per cent of its maximum.
In short, you need to sweat, get your heart pumping and feel knackered at the end of it.
Oh, joy!
For those of us who see gyms as being places of inhuman torture, and needing to be fully investigated by Amnesty International, this isn't all good news. I’m not by nature a gym bunny and I find exercise tedious and unpleasant. However, I will grudgingly admit that I do feel better afterwards. The brain fog clears, the shaking stops and I feel sharper and the increasing slowness is reversed.
There are other problems that can be helped by correct exercise. As the disease progresses standing straight becomes more difficult, you become increasingly prone to falls and walking becomes even harder. However, the exercise required is more specialised and ideally needs a physiotherapist to guide.
The exercise itself is relatively gentle and doesn't require copious sweating or a gym.
The downside is that the exercise has the look of interpretive dance. It’s all flowing gestures, grand movement, and elegant flow of arms.
In fact, having a Kate Bush album playing as a backing track, whilst you are doing the exercises will provide the right ambience.
You’ll still feel (and look) like a pillock, however, so for someone like me with an unnaturally low embarrassment threshold, a room with a lock on the door and closed curtains is a must.
Inelegant would be a kind description of my efforts.
When I was diagnosed I made a promise to myself, one I intend to keep, that I was going to continue to enjoy life and the things that I enjoyed.
Like drink............, an alcoholic drink. I make no claims to having a highly cultivated palette. I like my beer, preferably dark, I like my wine, preferably full of tannins, red and deeply flavoured and I like my Port.
This will come as a shock to my friends, but I enjoy a pint or three on an occasional night and whilst I’m able I’m going to continue to do so.
And I don’t give a damn about Government guidance as to the safe weekly limits. There are precious few benefits to being very old, unless your happy having Alziemers, wearing Tena’s for men and being at the mercy of some poor badly paid carer, who may not be as gentle as you would like.
I remember my mother's last months, as hard as the carers tried, dignified is not how you would describe them.
I know that it isn't always like this, but it's like this for too many of our old. There is precious little dignity in achieving a great age.
Anyway, I’ve got distracted. If like me you wish to continue enjoying the good things in life, for as long as possible, I have some kindly advice. Don’t tell anyone. Not the Consultant, not the Physiotherapist and above all, not the Parkinsons' nurse you will be allocated. Not unless you are a masochist and enjoy being nagged and lectured to, whilst attempting to refuse to accept the latest NHS Guide to responsible drinking (about half a pint of shandy per month).
Save yourself the grief.
Instead, proclaim your intention, order yourself your favourite curry drowning in ghee, a monster Nan and a couple of side dishes, along with several bottles of Cobra, well chilled and plonk yourself in front of the tv and pray that the wife doesn't decide to leave her end of term dinner early because she feels tired.
It's a great way to spend an evening and life won’t get better.
Some Studies
Can the wife join you next time?
ReplyDeleteQuite right too.
ReplyDelete