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Tatty has headaches again.

He’s not a very expressive person and definitely not visual so when he says he feels like a hammer is pounding in his head for hours I know he must be in great pain.

If you saw him you could never tell.

He doesn’t moan groan or complain. He struggles to put on his jacket designed with extra-large armholes. If someone walks by and helps him he nods imperceptibly. It’s the only way he knows to show appreciation to those helping him accomplish a task that used to take thoughtless seconds.

His headaches may be a side effect of the medication he takes to slow the progression of Parkinson’s. But I think they’re exacerbated by his diet. The headaches and dizziness make it impossible for him to focus on the written word. I tell him bits and pieces of what I have read.

“Do you know protein interacts with your medication?”

“Oh.”

He walks away before I can explain.

The next time I see him he tells me his doctor mentioned something about protein but he isn’t sure what.

“Do you want me to explain?”

“Yes but I don’t have time now” he answers.

“Should I type it up and e-mail it?”

“Okay.”

Inside I burn. This is his health. How can he be so dispassionate?

The waves of emotions crash deep inside me. They cry. They sigh. Then seethe in a low burning rage.

It takes me a long time to calm down.

I type up a list of all foods containing proteins. I e-mail it. Run after him to explain it.

Eventually ever so slowly I see he makes changes in his diet.

I persist.

I try hard to talk to him about exercise vitamins hydration and so many more aspects of his health that are foreign to him. He always listens. He nods his head. Then asks me why I think exercise is really helpful or who says which foods are antioxidants? After I answer all his questions and offer a plan of action he pulls back.