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The song “Help!” by The Beatles has always been one of those songs I never seriously considered the meaning of. Upbeat. Catchy. Almost cheerful.
But I listened to it today while having a rest. For the first time I found it incredibly profound. The more I live with PSP, the more those lyrics land differently.
When I was younger, the word help carried a certain pride. You helped others. You solved problems. You got things done. Asking for help was something you tried to avoid.
After all, as the song itself says:
“When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.
But now these days are gone and I’m not so self-assured,
Now I find I’ve changed my mind, I’ve opened up the doors.”
Now it has a different meaning.
Yesterday, another Beatles song I may talk about another day, I took on a carer. That sentence alone represents a shift in life. PSP has gradually taken away some of the basic things most of us never think about. Getting dressed. Moving safely. Managing small everyday tasks.
These are not dramatic moments. They are quiet, ordinary moments where independence slips a little further away.
And in those moments, the word help becomes very literal.
Not help with strategy or decisions. Help with putting a sweater on. Help with shoes. Help with standing up without falling.
It takes time to adjust to that.
The last 24 hours have been quite hard. After a visit to have an EEG following my suspected TIA, my wife and I found it incredibly helpful having a very kind carer with me. He helped me navigate the journey, the clinic visit, and even the unexpected moment of going to the shelter when a rocket came in.
In those moments the chorus of the song suddenly sounds very real:
“Help me if you can, I’m feeling down.”
The strange thing is that another line from the song captures my experience almost perfectly:
“And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.”
That line resonates deeply.
Living with PSP involves a huge number of serious adjustments, one after another. Each one different for each person, each bringing its own mental and physical challenges. Each one uncomfortable at first.
But over time you realise that accepting help is not a failure.
It is simply the next stage of living well.
I did not feel like this twelve hours ago. I was emotionally very low and almost at the point of thinking that the next steps in life were going to be more than a challenge. But I am capable of rising again. And the people who help us, carers, family, friends, allow us to keep moving forward even when our bodies make things harder.
And perhaps the most powerful line in the song is also the simplest:
“Won’t you please, please help me?”
So when I hear that song now, I hear something very different from what I heard years ago.
Not a cry of weakness.
Just an honest statement about being human.
Sometimes we all need help.
And over the last 24 hours the city of Liverpool helped me twice.
First through the words of The Beatles.
And then, somewhat improbably, through a football result that allowed my team Tottenham to escape with an unexpected draw.
A small reminder of the unsurprising resilience of Tottenham, something I can perhaps learn from, at least until the next time they lose, which will probably be the next match.
But for one evening at least, Liverpool helped again.
