I had slipped into unconsciousness last night right after I completed and published my penultimate blog entry for this trip. One of the last things I did was send JL the link so it would be available for her to read first thing in the morning. Only a few minutes later, I got a ping from her to say she loved reading it, bless her.
I awoke this morning, once again refreshed, after a decent night’s sleep. Judging by the hubbub and noises from all corners of the house, I think I may have been the last one up and about.
I packed my things away. The laptop went into the backpack, the CPAP machine into its carry case, and my power strip with chargers and cables, all still plugged in, was wound into my clothes bag. Rather than unplugging it all and rolling up the cables separately, I found that just leaving it all in one large mess was the most practical way to pack and unpack. It might have looked like a tangled cobweb, but there was method to the madness. These three bags had sustained me for the past month. Even with access to drawers and cupboards, like at John and Lisa’s, I still simply left everything in these three bags and lived out of them.
Downstairs, I found several children happily playing, with JL and Jay in the dining room and kitchen. Jay made me a lovely cup of tea, and I enjoyed a few more magical, and once again emotional, moments with my niece. As of this trip, I no longer see her quite so much as a niece. I now see her more as an ally and kindred spirit. I have precious few of those, and I’m not letting go of this one now.
With hugs and cuddles that were all the sweeter for being tighter and lasting longer than normal, I bid both JL and Jay a very sad farewell. It was all hands on deck as the family waved me a final goodbye when I pulled out of the drive. Naturally, I was reversing out in the wrong direction, but we caught it in time. I quipped that I was hopeless with directions and needed my satnav to make it out of my own garage. We parted company with smiles on our faces. Could anyone really ask for more than that?
For the first few kilometres of the journey to South Ockendon, I contemplated some of the powerful and heart-wrenching discussions JL and I had had over the past 48 hours. That brought me to tears again several times. As instructed by my therapist, I allowed that emotion to just emerge without fighting it. I’m getting better at doing that.
Before I was halfway to South Ockendon, I kept seeing WhatsApp notifications. JL had created a ‘Beyblades Crew’ WhatsApp group with her, me and Joey. She and Joey were already busy chatting away there. This put a huge smile on my face. Not only have I come away enriched from the experience with JL, but Joey is also already benefiting from his newfound family connection, which is so wonderful to see. Joey has no social circle of friends—indeed, he typically shuns social interaction altogether—so it pleases me no end to see him engaging in this way.
I didn’t head straight for Dad’s house. I had previously told Paul I would pick up some shopping for them both, so I made a beeline for Tescos to work my way through the list Paul David sent me. Paul clearly learnt from the previous exercise. This time, his list was visual, with images of each product. That was better than a text-based list, to be sure, but I still didn’t know where to find much of it. I got flustered at one point when I scanned the laundry products aisle looking for what I thought was a plastic bottle of liquid laundry soap. I later learned it was actually a bottle of milk. Like many products nowadays, they often don’t actually state what it is clearly on the bottle. Shampoo and related products are notorious for this. I thought the prominent ‘WHOLE’ plastered across the top of the container in the image was a laundry detergent brand name.
I was getting progressively flustered, walking back and forth along the length of the Tescos superstore, trying to work my way through Paul’s list. Not knowing where to find each next item on the list resulted in me walking (what was for me) a bloody half marathon in the most inefficient path around the bloody maze as possible. The problem was that I wanted to squeeze a bit more quality time in with Dad before making it to Dover and my ferry. The boat was going to leave whether I arrived in time or not, so I was feeling the pressure. In the end, I made sure to collect all the main items and cut my losses. I did manage to grab all the things Sandy had asked me to—including more pillowcases that were not plain white. I managed to grab most things and sent Paul some money via PayPal so he could pick up the rest. I said I’d buy their shopping, and I wanted to keep to my word.
In the end, I managed another 10-15 minutes at Dad’s bedside, squeezing in one more happy memory—even if it was a brief one. It was an emotional farewell for me again, to the two of them. I went to my car and sat there for a couple of minutes sorting out my satnav. Paul emerged again. He wanted to pop up to the nearby shops to pick up the milk I couldn’t find in the laundry aisle. I said I’d take him there and back, so we once again squeezed in some more quality time. Paul was contemplating how wonderful it would be if we could get a larger family reunion going—especially given Dad’s condition. Nobody would be happier than me if this were to come to pass. I can live in hope.
The drive to Dover was interrupted only by a quick stop at an ASDA superstore to do one final sweep for some comfort foods and other titbits. I picked up some more pillows and some non-white pillowcases, which will make Sandy happy, and yet more sausages and bacon, which will make me very happy.
I drove the remaining 45 minutes to Dover with the windows down, wind racing around my body and nothing blaring from the radio to interrupt me from my thoughts about the past month.
Immigration and passport control were all very brief, and I checked in with no hassles. By the time I reached my docking row number, I was immediately ushered onto the ferry, so the timing worked out just about perfectly in the end.
Somewhat surprisingly, the ferry wasn’t one with which I was familiar. I don’t recall travelling on this particular vessel before. I climbed the stairs from the lower car deck to the restaurant deck, but immediately had to retrace my steps when I realised I left my laptop on the car. This blog entry was never going to write itself after all.
I took the elevator back to the restaurant deck the second time—another indication my stamina isn’t what it should be. I was really pleased to find an unused table right next to a power outlet, only to realise that all my chargers and cables were still in my clothes bag in the car. Fortunately, both my mobile phone and laptop are fully charged, so not being plugged in shouldn’t cause me any issues for the 100-minute return trip. After a promising fish ‘n’ chips dinner, which was only mediocre in the end, I sat and wrote what you have just read.
After reaching its destination, the penny finally dropped on why I didn’t recognise this ferry. Typically, I travel between Dover and Dunkirk, but we just docked in Calais. That will add half an hour of driving, but it shaved over an hour off the journey across the water, so I will likely get home just a little bit sooner than expected.
And there we have it. That’s my last blog for this trip. What a wild ride these past four weeks have been. I came looking for peace of mind with Dad, knowing that each time I visit could be the last time I see him. What I found was a better understanding of who I am and what having Parkinson’s means to me. I also found connection with family and loved ones, and a realisation that there are many more people around me who love me and are there for me. I don’t feel quite so isolated anymore. This trip was originally planned to be just a short one—perhaps a week or so—but I took advantage of the hospitality continually extended to me from multiple directions, stretching the journey into what has turned out to be a significant and much-needed recuperative break. I feel better, rested, and more at peace with the world. Am I totally healed? Truthfully, I don’t know. When it comes to my own health and well-being, I’ve already proven I am not a reliable source for drawing conclusions. I suspect the answer lies buried in these blogs. Either way, I feel more capable of facing the world again.
To everyone who supported me throughout this journey, whether that meant providing me with a bed, offering moral support, or just reading my blogs and commenting on or liking my posts: A heartfelt thank you to all of you—you have all meant more to me than I could possibly convey here.
