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Category: Parkinson’s Disease

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Crazy?!

Crazy?!

I am losing my mind. Am I’m losing it to my Parkinson’s Disease?  To age? To maladies yet to be diagnosed? I stare into space, trying desperately to remember what was right there, right there, on the tip of my tongue just moments ago. Then it hits me: I have children. It’s not the Parkinson’s Disease.  Nor age, nor my blessedly over-committed life. No, it’s those plotting little hellions, the Teen and Tween, who separately and together are intent on exacting my mother’s revenge. It’s my hell spawn who are driving me bonkers. Their ability to jump up and down on my very last nerve is masterful. If only they would channel this genius to their studies, they’d be the… READ MORE

Happy/Scared

Happy/Scared

I am happy because my home is solid and my kids… well, they’re here and kinda solid too. I am happy to have learned from my many mistakes and hope that this hard-earned knowledge will spare others pain. I am happy that I have Parkinson’s Disease instead of Multiple Sclerosis which I admit seems like a backhanded version of happy. But of late, I’m more fearful than happy. I read the news and fear that our lesser selves will prevail. That the world will divide again and again into ‘us’ and ‘them’ and repeat the genocidal madness that such thinking devolves into. I fear that I will never figure out how to follow my daughter on Snap Chat and that… READ MORE

Flu Fret

Flu Fret

“If you’ve got your health, you’ve got everything.” Well, then, I am lacking. I am afflicted. But so are many. My conditions are my constant companions. They’ll shuffle along this mortal coil with me for as long as I shuffle along upon it.  But there is a gift in my conditional state: my chronic ailments fortify me against the indignities of aging. When I was a child–back in the dinosaur age–there was a limited artillery in the asthma fighting arsenal. Compromised since my first wheezy breath, I was a Marax kid. (Marax shouldn’t ring a bell with many – it’s no longer manufactured in the USA because Ephedra, since banned, was an integral part of the formula.) I was a… READ MORE

Parkie Steps

Parkie Steps

There is no challenge that duct tape can’t overcome in the right hands. My husband has such hands. There is a pesky, Parkie peculiarity pertaining to stairs. Specifically–walking down them. When I look down, I see the step as if I’m wearing reading glasses and looking at a distant object. The challenge is heightened when the stairway is light and monochrome.  Often — especially when I’m tired – my perspective is uneven and wonky. Steps are both closer and farther than they appear. On the Parkie perk side, I’m a great judge of whether or not the rise and run of a stairway complies with the building code.  It’s odd, like much of this idiosyncratic disease. I descend slowly, cautiously,… READ MORE

The Touch

The Touch

I Have the Touch* Of a community that doesn’t want me afflicted. Of literal embrace. Of phones that would be answered in the middle of the night. I am touched. “Have you heard?” “No, what?” “I have Parkinson’s Disease,” I share my then-recent diagnosis as I join the parent posse outside of our children’s school. “Oh, I’m…” says one of the fathers who squeezes my shoulder and looks into my eyes as he departs from the pick-up point toward his tyke. Later, I get a text apologizing for awkward words I’ll never remember. “Your shoulder squeeze said it all,” I type back. He has the touch. Shake those hands, shake those hands• Give me the thing I understand• I’m not… READ MORE

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