If Tomorrow Never Comes

Home Truths

Have you ever watched the television show Grey's Anatomy? If you have, you'll agree with me that it is an absolutely fantastic programme, with the perfect mix of drama, hot actors and medical goings-on. If you haven't, then you're missing out on something great, so go hire it out and catch up with the latest fad to hit pop culture.

With my mum still pitying me because i'm sick and need to stay at home doing pretty much nothing (i'm telling you, if it sounds relaxing, it's really not), i scored Grey's as a consolation prize. Last night, i was watching the episode If Tomorrow Never Comes. The problem with medical programmes is that there is occassionally a procedure or operation that hits a little too close to home.

Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever watched something, or seen something, or read something that has stuck a chord in you, a sore spot that you generally keep buried, away from the prying eyes of everyone around you and their need to make you feel better? Well, this was one of those moments. I was thankful for the fact that the hovel only has a single occupant (me) and nobody else was around to see my pitiful fall from composure, into a dank pit of emotion, from which i took a good while to haul myself out.

What was it that set me off today? This episode was all about a man who had Parkinson's Disease, very advanced. In case you don't know, that means that he had uncontrollable tremors in his arms and legs, stiffness and cramps, difficulty walking and talking, trouble swallowing... basically, the man was incapacitated. He wasn't even very old. The drugs that can help to control the tremors and other symptoms weren't working. The man refused to look at any other options.

Enter his daughter. Her wedding was weeks away and she was inconsolable because her father wouldn't be able to walk her down the isle. She tried to convince him to have DBS surgery. What's that? Deep Brain Stimulation. He finally consents. And then the viewers are treated to the operation. Where the patient is forcibly restrained and completely awake. While his skull is opened under only a local anasthetic. While probes are inserted into his brain, looking for the area that controls the motor skills. While electrodes are implanted into the brain and connected to an electrical device, externally helping to control the symptoms.

This man came out of the operation ok. His tremors were significantly diminished. His quality of life was regained. This man was lucky. He avoided any of the problems that can arise from DBS, it being a relatively new operation that has a variable success rate. When he came out, he could move. He could talk. He had mobility. Not everyone does. The odds aren't even particularly favourable. This man was one of the lucky ones. His daughter was one of the lucky ones. Her dad was ok, would go on to live in relative normality for a few more years. She didn't have to watch her dad as a vegetable or watch him continue deteriorating and watch him get further and further from the man that you've known him to be for your entire life. She was lucky.

Why does this bother me? I know a man with early onset Parkinson's, just like this man. He's a candidate for surgery and is stubbornly having it, risks or not. But the icing on the cake? The straw that is breaking the metaphorical camels back?

The man is my Dad. In one month, he'll be the one having the operation.