Parkinson’s changed how my uncle ate, but deer sausage ruled the menu

Swallowing became more difficult for Brandon as his disease progressed

Written by Crystal Onyema |

Banner image for Caregiving Unfiltered column by Crystal Onyema.

My Uncle Brandon could have a few pieces of chicken and a room full of people and still ask, “Y’all want some?”

Never mind that there wasn’t enough chicken to feed everybody. If he was eating, chances were he was going to offer you some. Food was something to enjoy and share. His beloved deer sausage was no exception. Unfortunately for him, I never understood the appeal.

Brandon had hunted deer for years and took pride in having the meat turned into sausage. I generally ate it to appease my dear uncle, who couldn’t understand why I wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about one of his favorite foods.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he’d tell me. Apparently, eating the sausage wasn’t enough proof that I knew exactly what I was missing.

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One day, he asked me to make him one of his favorite simple meals: a deer sausage sandwich. White bread, a little mayonnaise and mustard, deer sausage folded inside, chips on the side, and a tall glass of soda.

I put the plate in front of him and expected the usual commentary about my failure to appreciate quality cuisine. Instead, I heard coughing. At first, I wasn’t especially alarmed. Uncle Brandon was a former smoker, so an occasional cough wasn’t unusual. I grabbed him some water and expected that to be the end of it.

It wasn’t. He continued coughing until eventually he had to spit the sausage into a napkin. “You OK?” I asked.

“I couldn’t swallow the damn meat like I usually do,” he said. That got my attention.

Eating the foods he loved

By then, Brandon had been living with Parkinson’s disease for years, and his doctor had indicated that swallowing could become more difficult as the disease progressed. Still, there’s a difference between knowing something might become difficult and watching it happen at the kitchen table.

Of course, Uncle Brandon tried the sausage again. He cut off a smaller piece and struggled with that one, too. Eventually, with a smaller bite, a couple of swallows, and something to drink, he got it down.

And yes, he finished his food. It just took longer than he wanted, especially for a hungry man who’d never needed to put that much thought into demolishing a deer sausage sandwich.

We didn’t have a formal name for what I watched happen that day. Later, I would learn more about dysphagia, the medical term for difficulty swallowing and an issue that can affect people living with Parkinson’s. At home, though, we were simply figuring out how Uncle Brandon could keep eating the foods he loved.

Taking deer sausage away from him was not going to be our solution. I can only imagine the look we would’ve gotten for suggesting it. Instead, we made small adjustments without making a production out of them.

“Want me to cut that sausage up a little more?”

“I’m bringing you another water since you’re eating your sausage.”

Uncle Brandon hated feeling like he was being cradled, and we understood that how we offered help mattered.

Sometimes the sausage was cut into smaller pieces. Other times, it went into eggs and rice, a breakfast he already enjoyed, occasionally with a little gravy. We weren’t replacing his favorite foods. We were helping him enjoy them differently. And Uncle Brandon adjusted, even when the adjustments irritated him.

Eating more slowly wasn’t something he enjoyed. But sometimes adapting meant accepting the extra water, letting somebody cut the sausage smaller, or taking more time with a meal than he wanted.

I never cared much for deer sausage. But I cared that Brandon could keep enjoying it.

Looking back, those meals taught me something about caregiving. Helping someone adapt doesn’t always mean taking away what has become difficult. Sometimes it means paying attention to what matters to them and finding a way to work around what has changed.

Parkinson’s had made something as ordinary as eating require more care and patience. But the deer sausage stayed on the menu. And knowing my uncle B, that’s all that mattered.


Note: Parkinson’s News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Parkinson’s News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Parkinson’s disease.

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