Published 6 June 2025

She enters the consultation room with two folders — hers and her husband’s. He has advanced parkinsonism and dementia. There’s no way she can bring him to the clinic. They’ve been together for 40 years. For the past few, he’s been bedridden — and she’s been his sole carer.

They live in a small flat at the back of their daughter’s house. She’s worried about his fast breathing, and the repetitive movement of his right hand rubbing his face. She describes everything in careful detail. I offer to do a home visit at the end of the day.

When I arrive, she opens the gate and leads me through the house to the small one-room flat at the back. An old, deaf dog barks and sniffs at my feet. The room — impeccably clean — is just big enough for two single beds, side by side.

He lies on his back on the bed furthest from the door. Neck extended. Right hand rising, again and again, to his face, just as she described. His breathing is shallow and fast. He smiles as I introduce myself.

They survive on two old age pensions. Nearly half of it goes to adult nappies. She cares for him round the clock — no external help.

Nights are hardest. He’s restless, often waking. Is there any respite for her? Not really. When he sleeps during the day, she uses the time to clean the flat.

She shows me how she helps him into a chair. It’s a slow, painstaking process. First, she turns him onto his side. Then, helps him sit up, legs dangling from the bed. I move the chair into the narrow space beside the beds. She lifts him into a standing position, supports his few shuffling steps, and gently turns him to sit. He often falls forward. She braces him upright.

Returning him to bed follows the same choreography.

Despite everything, there’s a deep connection between them — an unspoken understanding. He rarely speaks, but when he does, it lands with weight. “Thank you, doctor,” he says, clearly. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”

As she walks me back to my car, she asks softly: “What’s going to happen now, doctor? What’s the way forward?” He’s been deteriorating slowly over the past six months. I tell her I expect that to continue.

She pauses, then says, “We must appreciate every moment we have together.”

I am filled with quiet wonder at her love and dedication.