16/04/2015 07:28 BST | Updated 15/06/2015 06:59 BST


Call it "stir crazy" or "cabin fever", it all amounts to the same thing. Housebound for several weeks, due to the horrid weather of late, that seems intent on encroaching into what should be spring time, the invitation to join my husband in a trip to our local supermarket was hard to resist. Just the thought of getting out of the house to see a world outside these four walls was too tempting and sounded positively exciting! I know what you're thinking, how pathetically sad! But living with ill health makes one appreciate the smallest of things - even a trip to the supermarket with the enviable possibility of interaction with people! You know you've not been out in a while, when at the deli counter the conversation about the virtues of sliced versus a block of cheese sounds scintillating. I really must get out more!

The first few minutes were positively exhilarating, looking at the rows of aisles neatly displaying every type of food imaginable, almost beckoning me, and I thought to myself "I did the grocery shopping for years. Comparing prices, carefully checking ingredients, choosing the best fresh vegetables and fruit, I was a fountain of knowledge regarding special offers and the use of coupons to help stretch a family budget. I can still do this" I foolishly told myself. With great confidence, shopping list in hand, I hung onto the trolley, which is far better than any Zimmer frame. Unsuspecting passers-by were unaware this cart on wheels was what kept me upright. As I reached the frozen foods section, Parkinson's decided to unexpectedly throw me a curve ball, and I suddenly came to a grinding halt and froze. Rather appropriately, or ironic - depending on how you look at it, I was rooted to the spot next to the frozen vegetables. I stood like a frozen placard, as if I were a rather short relative of the jolly green giant stuck between the broad beans and green peas.

I franticly looked around, scouring the aisles for my husband. A helpful shelf stocker stepped forward and asked if I needed assistance, but thankfully by now I had spotted my better half, and at a glance, like the mind reader he has become over the years, at speed made his way over to me. It may have been poor timing on my part, but it was better than the last time I froze, which happened in the middle of a busy car park, where angry drivers shouted and tooted their horns at me, totally unaware of why I was stationary and causing a small traffic jam!

After what felt like an eternity, I was able to move away from the frozen veggies. Have you ever noticed that there's nowhere to sit down in a supermarket? By this time I was "off" (which is when medications cease to work for a period of time for those of you who are unfamiliar with this Parkie term). I needed to sit down before my legs, which felt decidedly weak, gave way under me. There was a terribly long line at the check-out, and spotting a chair in an unoccupied check-out, oblivious to anyone else, I made a beeline for that seat. Despite feeling chilly from being in the frozen produce section so long I managed to make it to the car and got home safely. So what is the moral to this story? Don't waste energy worrying where you might freeze. Frozen or not, as Elsa would say "let it go"!