The Beginning

This story officially begins back in 2016 when my father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, but let’s backtrack a little first.

Mum and Dad loved dancing and there wasn’t a weekend that they stayed home. Then, one evening Dad suddenly stopped in the middle of a dance with the words, ‘I don’t remember where I am.’ This was a dance he knew well and Dad had forgotten the steps.

Some days afterwards Mum spoke about this night with a friend whose husband had Parkinson’s. In a lightbulb moment, the dots began joining together. Dad had also begun kicking and yelling out in his sleep – another sign Mum was familair with. With that she booked Dad in for a doctor’s appointment. Within a month or so Dad saw a geriatrician who diagnosed Parkinson’s Disease and promptly put Dad on the requisite drugs.

Almost immediately, my parent’s life drastically changed.

Dad had suffered from migraines for years, but with the medications these increased ten-fold and he felt nauseous for hours after taking the tablets. Those tablets meant to help keep the Parkinson’s symptons at bay made it impossible for Dad to live his life to the fullest. What we didn’t know was that some of these drugs weren’t suited for MSA.

The dancing came to a rapid halt.

My parents loved doing long camping trips in outback Australia: crossing the Simpson Desert many times, travelling the Strzelecki Track and the Canning Stockroute are just a few. They haven’t camped since Dad’s diagnosis, instead they had occasional week trips or weekends away and staying in accommodation. The last serious trip I remember them undertaking was a trip in mid-2016 to meet Bob and I in Germany. It was also the last time I saw him with his camera in hand.

Dad kept tending his garden and much loved orchids and ferns. The massive Bird’s Nest which he had grown from seed and required two strong pairs of arms to lift, was Dad’s pride and joy. He also pottered around the house as he undertook the maintenace required and tinkered in the shed – he was pretty handy with his hands.

2022

By now we could see Dad’s syptoms becoming noticeably worse and it became increasingly difficult for him to do the things he loved. As each day passed, more time was spent inside doing his family tree, than outside in the open air. His thought processes slowed, his co-ordination decreased; then came the day he almost fell asleep at the wheel. Undertaking 1-2 trips to Adelaide and back on an almost weekly basis (they lived in on the Yorke Peninsula) left both Mum and Dad exhausted. Mum herself was experiencing health issues.

With the medical care Dad required not easily accessible, unable to see any other option, my sister and I broached the idea of them moving to Adelaide permanently. This idea hit Mum and Dad like a tonne of bricks, but after months of discussion, my parents eventually made the heartwrenching decision to sell their dream home.

2022 was difficult for everyone. The house on the market, watching my parents as they tried to process what to take or toss was distressful. They had close on 60 years of memories, and Mum also had her knitting wool, dress and quilting fabrics to consider. For Dad there were thew tools he required for his projects.

Bob helped Dad with the packing in the shed, my sister (when she had a weekend free) and I helped Mum. With as much as possible packed, it was then a matter of waiting for the house to actually sell. Life rolled on.

Bob and I had been in Europe for a week, when the phone call came. Six weeks later we returned to help with the last of the packing and the move itself.

2026

2025 saw Dad’s symptoms worsening with a speed that was mindblowing. My great uncle had Parkinson’s and this didn’t compare. Dad didn’t even have the shakes that are synonymous with Parkinson’s – he was experiencing twitches. A second opinion was required and Dr Robert Wilcox came into their lives.

By the time they walked out of the door, Dad had received a new prognosis: MSA – P, otherwise known as Multiple System Atrophy with Parkinsonism symptons (meaning it mimics Parkinson’s disease). The news was he would be in a nursing home within 8-12 months. Taken off a number of medications, the twitches disappeared and he did feel a little better.

I have always been Dad’s girl, whilst Terry is Mum’s. It was Dad who taught me to throw a ball so hard ands straight, the girls in my first netball team couldn’t catch it. He taught me how to bait a line and gut a fish.

Dad’s stubborness has helped him a great deal, but sadly the MSA is beginning to overtake this.

Bob and I return to Adelaide for two months each year. At the end of 2025, the change in Dad in was phenomenal. His thought processes were like mush and he was unable to process or organise clearly. He had returned to stamp collecting and I spent days helping him sort his stamps so he could get on with the process of cateloguing them. Working a computing becomes increasingly more difficult and he needs help with cuttinmg food and showering.

Watching this strong man who had an IQ well above the average and held a mangerial position where he helped develop different technologies in what was then known as Telecom is one of the most difficult challenges I am having to endure. For my sister and mother who are there supporting him full time, it’s even more difficult.

Despite this, every now and then, we still get to see Dad’s cheekiness and humour shining through …