Is that a Lifetime Movie you'd set your DVR for, or what? Some days I feel like those words could be my theme song. I want to thank everyone for your visits, your posts, your shares, and your comments on my first post.
I'm extremely lucky to be in a position to be able to talk candidly about my journey and still keep my job. I have met many PD sufferers, particularly those with young onset (anyone diagnosed before about age 60), who tell stories of living in fear for years, afraid that they would be “caught” showing symptoms of PD. They had asked their partners and children to lie or cover for them because they were afraid of losing their livelihood, their insurance, and even their self-worth. And it’s worth mentioning that I’m well aware that there are likely some people who may choose not to work with me due to my PD. But screw them.
I know people who finally dared to seek treatment from a neurologist after hearing my story. Not all of them had PD, but many had some kind of neurological issue they weren't seeking medical care for. I know people who nearly cried with relief to have someone to share this experience with, when they weren't ready to talk to their friends or family. And I know family, friends, and fellow “Parkies” (my word) who have had a laugh, or a cry, or learned that you can get your meds without the damn childproof caps, because they read or heard something I said. Those of you who know me professionally will see new work coming from me soon. That's all I'll say for now. But much of the work in my PD life in recent years has been about finding a center, a balance that isn't too fast or too slow, that lets me live my life as easily and normally as possible. And yes, I see the irony in the fact that if you removed the letters "PD" from that sentence, it could be about almost anyone on the planet. I’m not that special. But, like everybody, I’m a work in progress.
I recon routes through crowded airports to preserve energy and avoid gait-stopping hazards. Like grout lines. I get loud on behalf of others calling for a cure and forget to take care of myself.
Every day I struggle to hydrate, eat right, move, find the right combo of meds, and fight the apathy and depression that accompany Parkinson's. I recon routes through crowded airports to preserve energy and avoid gait-stopping hazards. Like grout lines. I get loud on behalf of others calling for a cure and forget to take care of myself. Although I'm still not great at asking for help, I am far less likely now to yell at people who offer it. I'm working on it, I'm working on it. On Thursday I'm posting a blog with lots of PD info and resources for those of you who are interested. Happily, I have recently started some new meds, which seem to be helping a lot, and I’ll fill in the details for those of you playing along at home soon. I am picking up at mile 42 of my 365-mile in 365 days challenge (216 days left! More to come on that too). I'm hopeful. Every day. To keep trying. To keep feeling your support. To keep writing and working and making bad jokes and rattling my pill bottles. Thanks for shuffling along with me.