Tuesday, February 1
I woke up feeling downright spritely, even if lacking in easy mobility. That lasted through breakfast and the morning ceremonies of massage, cleaning, and dressing. (During leg massage, my right leg is usually so sensitive that it twitches and leaps; there was none of that this morning.) The sprite also endured several longish messages I had to write in search of transportation to Florence on Friday. Typing was not only accurate, but fast and automatic.
Then we took a very brief walk (brief to save my ankle and because the typing put us too close to lunch to do otherwise) and by the time I’d eaten I was tired. The nap that followed was restful, but I woke with distant echoes of RLS (not fully realized, but a little shaky) and a great slowness of movement. It’s about an hour later as I write this, and while typing is more than usually accurate, it is no longer quick and automatic – the natural ebbs and flows of recovery. But I still feel spritely even if the edges of my wings are frayed.
Something surprising happened on Sunday – I could suddenly scratch the center of my back with my left hand. I still can. I’ve not been capable of that for years!
Still, by four I felt tired and tight and typing was becoming sloppy and goofy. So I took a nap. When Roman came in at five, the noise of the door latch caused my body to jump like from an electric shock.
Walking Via della Costituente was very pleasant, and revived my energy and high spirits.
Wednesday, February 2
As per usual of late, I woke on the top of the world, and when walking the hall shortly after I swayed from side to side (as a healthy stride does) and without trying. I also got out of bed several times over night with a similar ease and spontaneity. PD hits automatic movement hard, so that I am experiencing its revival is wonderful news.
We rolled to an empty Piazza del Duomo that was washed in sun, still feeling fabulous, but trying to walk the sunny side was a shambles. Roman blames the broken pavement, but today I think the dopamine just wasn’t spread out enough to support my jolly mood and walking, both.
The big news yesterday was typing smoothly. Today, it’s back to sometimes accurate but always slow and needing effort. I’m disappointed but not discouraged. I’m coming to accept the squiggly line that recovery takes.
The Alexander lesson today was at home – illuminating, but strenuous.
Thursday, February 3
This morning after a decent night’s sleep, I transferred to the recliner to wait for Roman and slept for about fifteen minutes. When Roman tried to help me up I felt like I was losing consciousness or dying. I theorized a low blood pressure episode – I’d had one about a year ago, and this felt the same. Roman took my pressure and temperature about twenty minutes later and they were perfect. But I’ve been hopelessly weak ever since, though to be accurate, the really unpleasant part lasted only a minute or two, and my memory of last year is that after 24 hours or so, all residue had vanished.
Walking from recliner to desk with Roman’s help took several minutes, and typing at first was practically impossible, but it’s getting better now. Then he took my temperature again at 16:30 and it was 37.5 (normal is 37) so I alerted my doctor and Roman got a test kit. All is (thankfully) well, but a residue remains, most notably I can barely walk and feel as heavy as lead.
My doctor recommended an antibiotic which I happily had left over from last summer so was able to start it before bed.
Roman offered to spend the night. I said yes, please. I slept the full night in the recliner, and slept extremely well.
Friday, February 4
We were supposed to go to the consulate in Firenze today, but yesterday’s fever makes that impossible now for fourteen days. I’ve spent the morning sorting all the ramifications of having a fever during the time of covid (there are many) and by the time all was resolved, the fever was gone. Then after all that computer work, I napped like a stone. We managed an evening walk in the garage which was followed by another stoney nap.
Saturday, February 5
Roman notes that my hands are no longer cold. “What about my feet?” I asked. “They warmed up several months ago.” Cold feet and hands are symptomatic of PD.
I slept really well, and Roman didn’t wake me until ten, which allowing for a ninety minute intermission at about six, gave me a total of eight and a half hours. We walked the garage and I felt more steady on my feet than I have in well over a year. Upon arriving home I was instantly tired… or maybe I just wanted to return to the loveliness of sleep. Post lunch I tried to nap but RLS returned after being largely absent for awhile. That annoyed me, but now that I’m up it seems that in this case RLS was a reaction to my trying to oversleep.
Typing is very good. Pins and needles in my hands began the instant I thought of typing and a good five minutes before I was at the keyboard. They continue at varying intensities. I worked at the computer all afternoon, getting in and out of the chair without any problem.
Walking this evening is spontaneously lighter, knees bend, I sway with each stride. Roman noted before I said anything. It felt fantastic! As the evening continued and the quality of stride degraded, the knees lifting and the swaying survived. So did getting in and out of chairs (which was incredibly easier).
Then around 23:00 I got hit with a snot attack that lasted for an hour (provoked by a sip of water!) so I took some NiQuil, which was effective almost immediately. It also made me sleepy. I managed to stay up until 00:30.
Sunday, February 6
I slept until 09:15, and continued to sleep whenever I was deprived of stimulation. And I could barely walk, though curiously, rising from a sitting position continued to be easier than usual. Also curious, I continued to pick up my knees while walking, even as the walk itself was reduced to jerks and freezes. Left knee is sore and sometimes feels like it will give way.
It is a beautiful day so we wheeled toward San Giovenale and did a few laps on Piazza Gonzago. Then I skipped lunch and fell back to sleep for over three hours.
Mobility come evening was severely compromised, and despite all the sleep, I was tremendously tired. I bowed out of the evening’s phone calls. The contrast with yesterday could not have been starker. Roman stayed over again, and I slept in the recliner for nine hours.
Monday, February 7
Mobility is still bad but less so than yesterday. Naps abound.
Janice writes that when periods of recovery begin that they are short, and that the body’s need to recuperate takes much longer than the recovery period. Then, as recovery periods expand, recuperation shrinks. My first noticeable recoveries were of a few minutes length, and I chose to view them as breakthroughs rather than early expressions of healing. But Saturday’s recovery period lasted for hours and had a “soft” beginning and end (it didn’t just click on and off). And my body’s subsequent need for rest is profound. I also am not the least bit discouraged by the recovery period’s ending. I am experiencing these changes somatically, and see them more in context of a larger process.