My uncle with Parkinson’s had time for those buttons, even if I didn’t

The message was clear: The way to help him put on his jacket was to let him do it

Written by Crystal Onyema |

Banner image for Caregiving Unfiltered column by Crystal Onyema.

As you may already know, my uncle Brandon was a proud man. He liked to do what he could, when he could, and how he could, on his own terms.

Even something as ordinary as putting on a jacket meant something to him. He had been doing it for decades before Parkinson’s disease entered his life. A jacket meant getting ready for work, taking the kids to school, checking the weather before coming back in to tell everybody else how to prepare, greeting neighbors and friends, or heading into the garage to work on his cars.

I especially remember his trusty thermal work jacket and, of course, the cap that often completed the look.

As his Parkinson’s progressed, though, some parts of getting ready began taking longer. His tremors became more prominent, and tasks involving his hands weren’t always as quick as they once had been. Still, whenever possible, I tried to let Uncle Brandon do things his way.

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A response clear as day

One cold day, however, we had somewhere to be, and we couldn’t be late. Uncle Brandon was getting dressed to go with us and had reached the jacket portion of his routine. Normally, I would’ve asked, “Need help, Unc?” and waited for an answer.

That day, I looked at the clock. Then I looked at Uncle Brandon. Then I looked at those buttons. You guessed it; we did not have time for this.

Without asking, I grabbed his jacket and started helping him pull it over his shoulder and button it. His response became clear as day. He swatted my hands away and gave me a look that required absolutely no interpretation.

“What time do we have to be there?” he asked. I told him we had about 45 minutes. “Well, we’ll get there,” he said. “Just give me a moment. I got it. Let me do it.”

So I backed off. I wish I could say I waited with the patience of a saint. Spoiler alert: I did not.

One by one, Uncle Brandon worked those buttons as his hands shook. Tick-tock went the clock in my head. Another button. Another minute. I tried my hardest not to tap my foot.

“Unc, we’re on the time,” I gently reminded him. He waved his hand. “We’ll make it.”

Finally, the last button was done. Then we couldn’t find his hat. The expletive that ran through my mind in that moment shall remain between me and the big guy in the sky!

“Let me help you find it,” I said as plainly as possible.

Brandon continued looking until he finally spotted it behind the bed. He took his time picking it up, brushed down his hair, and put it on. Then he adjusted his hat and glasses just right before glancing at himself in the mirror.

“All right, let’s roll out,” he said. “I’m ready.”

And after all my worrying, we made it. A few minutes late, yes, but those extra minutes hadn’t ruined the day the way I’d feared they might.

Hands to myself

Later, I thought differently about those few minutes. Parkinson’s can affect fine motor skills, making everyday activities such as dressing more challenging. Occupational therapy and other strategies can help people with Parkinson’s adapt daily activities and maintain independence.

But there was something I needed to adapt, too. I had to learn that helping Uncle Brandon didn’t always mean using my hands. Sometimes it meant keeping them to myself.

As his Parkinson’s progressed, our family naturally wanted to make things easier for him. But being able to do something faster didn’t automatically mean I needed to do it for him. When it was safe and we had the ability to give him that extra time, sometimes the better help was simply letting him have it.

I learned to let him remain king of his ritual castle whenever I could. Putting on his jacket, finding his hat, adjusting his glasses, and making sure everything was just right may have taken longer than it once did, but it was still his normal routine.

Eventually, I realized those extra few minutes weren’t really mine to rush. If Uncle Brandon could still button his own jacket, put on his hat, check himself in the mirror, and announce that he was ready to roll out, sometimes my job was simply to stand back and let him do it.


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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